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zird is the word [userpic]
What are you playing at? I just asked myself this question and it made me laugh a little. I'm playing at keeping my cool (especially at work where I was on a short fuse today) and playing house (which I sometimes still feel like I'm doing despite living independently, even when it was with roommates or my husband, since I graduated college) and playing at being an adult. Aren't we all playing at that?

Do you feel like you're making it up as you go along, too? Do we all feel that way secretly and some of us are just much better at hiding it than others? When did we figure out how to act like an adult and do the things adults do? I have been thinking about this a lot since I have newly adult children who are learning their way into their adult lives like I must have done when I was their age. There is so much I don't remember.

I don't remember how I figured out how to file taxes, for example. I don't even know when I did it the first time. I used H&R Block in Chicago for years before I moved to Sweden, but I don't remember what I did before that, or even IF I did before that, despite having had a job all through college. I must have filed/paid taxes, right? I don't know if it is something my parents told me about and instructed me in how to do, or if it was something I learned from friends or acquaintances...we didn't even have the Internet back then (at least not like we do now) so it wasn't as if I could Google it.

I probably called my mom to ask. I called my mom a LOT when I was a young adult. I called her to ask stupid things like how to cook rice because she always knew the answers and she always took the time to give them to me, no matter how asinine or simple my question might be. She was my Google, pre-Google. She was my Lifeline and my Encyclopedia and my how-to guide on how to be an adult. I don't feel that I am those things for my children. They don't need me the same way I needed my mom, my parents, because they can just look it up themselves. They have an app for that.

I don't remember learning how to cook. I wasn't a child especially interested in cooking and I didn't stand beside my grandmother or my mom with an apron on, spooning out measurements or reading recipes. I called my mom a LOT about cooking questions when I was living on my own. My mom gave me a recipe book when I graduated from college and I had a couple of cookbooks and nowadays I have no fear of throwing things together, making recipes up out of my own head, because I have at least a basic understanding of how things work, how things go together, how long things take, etc., but I don't remember learning it. It must have been so gradual and piecemeal that it snuck up on me somehow, like most adulting.

My mom taught me to clean. She taught me pretty well, actually, despite probably not believing it herself when I was the age my kids are now, based on the state of my room (just how I feel about my kids' rooms!). I was one of the few who really knew how to clean when I worked in the MSU dormitories one summer cleaning. By the end of that summer, I could clean anything and the only thing that I have trouble cleaning as an adult is the horrible well under the bathtub that fills up with hair and soap and god knows what. I am gagging just thinking about it, writing this.

But lots of things still elude me. I am pretty clueless when it comes to banking things, like mortgages and funds and taxes in general. Thankfully, I have a husband who adults that stuff better than I do and keeps us solvent. Even though I'm the one who pays most of the bills, I think that's the part that is me secretly adulting, because it's the easy part. He's the one who deals with realtors and cars and computer crises (mostly).

I had a stressed-out day at work today and barked at my daughter (I apologized) and vented at my colleagues (who were understanding and sympathetic) and steamed about things in general and on the way home, Karin talked me down by asking me questions. She asked me all kinds of questions about what I thought about this and that, and what I did then and what I liked and didn't like and how I dealt with it and by the time we were home and sitting on the sofa, I felt much better. And I think she's got the adulting thing down. She's better at it than I am, already. In fact, I think I lucked out right where I am, in the middle between a mom who could answer anything and a daughter who knows how to apply it all instinctively. I don't know what she's playing at, or if she even realizes it's a game, but either way, I suspect she's winning it.
mood: thoughtful
music: All Angels—Simple Gifts

zird is the word [userpic]
I've been so busy. February is short but at least being busy all the time makes it feel shorter, but it's also annoyingly awful weather-wise, so even though it's early in the month, I am already tired of it, and longing for spring. One of my college roommates, after she moved to Chicago, used to throw a F*ck February party every year, complete with palm trees and sand and a beach-themed clothing requirement. If I wasn't already so busy, I might have planned one of those. I could certainly use it.

Party of the busy has been cleaning and sorting things in Anders' mom's apartment. We've spent several hours each weekend there and are nowhere near finished. On Saturday we cleaned it up and put things away and tidied so that the realtor can come and take photos on Tuesday and get it officially on the market. That will at least give us a deadline. Anders and I discussed some of the furniture (no one is taking much of it, so unless we can sell it, it will go to charity) and decided to take the 2-seat leather sofa and matching armchair for our family room...the sofabed there, while functional, is so badly stained, ripped and sun-faded that it's an embarrassment. And since it only gets used as an actual sofabed once in a blue moon, we figured it was time. Black leather isn't really my style, but hey, we don't use that room much and the furniture is free, so...

We had the AWC Valentine's Potluck dinner tonight. There were 20 people signed up but Karin didn't make it (she was going to come after work but got stuck cleaning late), and one couple never showed. The rest of the participants were all very nice and the food was delicious. One woman made a huge pot of baked potato soup which was fantastic. I baked heart-shaped iced sugar cookies yesterday and this morning I made pigs in a blanket and cream cheese pinwheels, and Anders made a delicious broccoli, feta & sun-dried tomato quiche. Yum!

I'm officially going to Seattle in June and I'm very excited, though my excitement was a bit tempered by the cost. Even if work is paying for it, it seems outrageously expensive. The hotel rates, especially. Yikes. Unfortunately, my friend Russell who might have been going to come that same weekend for a race, decided the timing didn't really work very well, but I'm hoping to see Chuck and my best friend Becky might also be able to come up for a couple of days. And in time-honored tradition (mine, anyway), I've given my mom all the details in the hopes she can come too! I'll be at a conference each day all week but the evenings are free! And I'll have the Sunday before the conference starts to see something of Seattle. Something to look forward to in the midst of the February weariness.

Speaking of looking forward to, I am leaving for Lisbon in a week! Crazy! We have not figured out a lot of plans in advance, and I'm just hoping it's relatively warm and more importantly, NOT RAINING, when we get there, please God!
mood: busy
music: Cheryl—Love Made Me Do It

zird is the word [userpic]
Well, I got a little over excited about where we were with our PC...still not fixed and still in the middle of trying to get it working correctly, running a bazillion diagnostics with the help of my friend Russell who is tech supporting us from Texas and thank god for his help or I would have slung the stupid thing through the window by now.

I am typing this on a bluetooth keyboard attached to my iPad which I thought would make typing faster and easier than the pain of typing on the iPad’s keyboard and it does...sort of. But I find myself backspacing and correcting nearly just as much anyway. It’s little and extra flat and not sensitive enough so it’s hard to keep my fingers in the correct positions. I keep skating off by one if I don’t keep careful watch and typing öolry yjod omdyrf-

Haha! GAH.

We had a break-in at work over the weekend, happened Sunday afternoon or so; we got the email about it around 9 pm. Apparently they had really managed to scope out the place as they were in the building for only about 3 minutes and still managed to get away with the most expensive things: an iMac, 6 laptops, and 2 Wacom tablets. They ripped the doors off cabinets (destroyed two in the process) to get at things, so even though most of them were locked up, it made no difference.

And I heard from one of my colleagues who worked in this same building some years ago, that there were at least two break-ins through the same window back’d think the building management would have done something by now...reinforced that window or put up cameras near it, or something. I wasn’t personally affected as I have a desktop PC and they bypassed the team laptop that was near my desk in favor of other, newer models. Still, not a fun thing to start the week with.

It’s only 2 weeks until I leave for Lisbon and it doesn’t feel real. And yesterday I got approval from my manager to attend a huge Adobe conference in Seattle in June...a whole week of geeking out which includes a 2-day presentation design conference. SO excited! I’ve never been to Seattle, so hoping to spend at least one extra day sightseeing. The only drawback is that it’s while Martin will be home...assuming that he is coming home after the school year ends and not staying to work all summer (though he has already applied to work the same 3-week summer program that he did last year).

I guess since this keyboard works well enough, I have no valid excuse for not posting regularly. :) But right now, I have to go fix dinner and then watch some Call the Midwife.
mood: determined
music: Sanne—Over My Head

zird is the word [userpic]
I was starting to get twitchy, I was. We've been mostly computerless all this past week, and while I could have posted, I suppose, from my iPad or iPhone, typing on those makes me insane and prone to rage meltdowns, so I figured it was better to wait. Anders installed Ubuntu (which is some sort of Linux operating system, and which he's been wanting to play with/install for years) instead of Windows and then promptly left on a ski trip for a week and I couldn't find or download any of my usual programs, so I've been kicking my heels since last Monday. I got a Windows reinstallation disk from a kind colleague and Anders reinstalled it yesterday, so now I just have to configure things and reinstall all my programs and I'll be good to go.

So, this isn't a real post, exactly, it's an I'm alive post! And more soon post! And I missed you post!
mood: happy
music: none, just me

zird is the word [userpic]
We're dog-sitting this week, for the first time in ages, and it's a little dog...more of a cat/rat than an actual dog, if you ask me, but I'm partial to big dogs. Or at least bigger dogs. I knew someone in college that called little dogs "dropkick" dogs, because you could, well, you get the idea. This one is a little too big for that and she's too sweet for dropkicking even if she's a little weird. She's a miniature Pinscher, which is kind of a mini-mini-Doberman, isn't it? I always though of Pinschers as kind of little Dobermans. She's 16 years old and you can tell she used to be brown but now she's mostly white all over from age so only the tip of her tail and a bit of her ears and the very end of her nose and a little of her back are still sort of tan. She has big dark eyes and bat ears and spinky legs and she can just manage to jump up on the sofa and ruck the blanket around until she's comfortable. She sits at my knee and taps me if I don't pet her. At least I hope that is what she means, and not that the tap is morse code for "I have to go out again or I'll pee on the Persian rug".

She's so old that she doesn't want to walk very far and it's so cold out right now that I don't either. Mostly she just goes around the house so it's a pretty easy dog-sitting gig. Karin has been doing most of the work, even coming home at lunchtime to take her out so she doesn't have to stretch her bladder for 8 hours, but Karin and Anders ditched me tonight to go skiing up at Vallåsen, were they have night skiing on Wednesdays. Since we got a lot of snow the past couple of days, I assume they had the real stuff and not just the produce of the snow cannons.

I wrote a post yesterday, or tried to, to explain my lack of posting...not excuse it, though it's a little bit that, too. I've been so lame about posting regularly the past few years that I kinda feel nothing excuses me any longer and I also don't think anyone wants to hear excuses. Just post, or don't post. We've been dealing with a computer issue where our PC suddenly freezes and restarts with ridiculously frequent intervals and no warning other than the blue screen of death. We've been researching the issue and have tried several things with no luck. SO very aggravating. Even if I save constantly just to be on the safe side, it invariably catches me out and I lose what I'm working on or am in the middle of, constantly. Right now, I'm on my work laptop, and the dog just came over and put her feet up on me as if to say "I have to go out again or I'll pee on the Persian rug." so I'll be back in 10 minutes.

I'm back. Did you miss me?

She moves pretty quickly for such an old lady but she's pretty much just out there to do her business and get back inside where it's warm. I kind of wish she had little booties and an overall as she shakes so much in the cold. We have a lot of snow and ice on the ground; most of the snow is actually ice,'s all frozen quite hard. It came down thick and heavy a couple of days ago, but the majority has melted again and what's left is very pretty and very icy. Slippy, as I tend to say. It's slippy out.

An author I like linked to this poem today, which really struck me. Maybe it will you, too.

Good Bones

Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.

—Maggie Smith*

"a thousand, delicious, ill-advised ways" ...isn't that spot on? We could make this place beautiful, right? We could make ourselves beautiful. Why do you think, so often, we choose the ill-advised ways to live instead? Laziness, convenience, thrill-seeking, ignorance, willfulness. I don't think it's necessarily a lack of caring. It's a lack of action, of motivation, of motion. We're all to easily able to look past, or glance over, or turn a blind eye to what we OUGHT to do, in favor of what's easier, more convenient, more delicious. Life is short. A good reminder.

*not the actress
mood: thoughtful
music: The Washington Squares—Daylight

zird is the word [userpic]
Just wrote a whole post explaining why I'm not posting much because our computer keeps crashing whereupon it crashed and ate the whole thing for the second time in a row. I give up.
mood: angry

zird is the word [userpic]
I've always been a reader. Since I can remember, I've read voraciously, first library books and then when I was older and could afford it, filling my little book cabinet and bookcases with books I loved and read and re-read until they were in tatters. I cut my reading teeth on Little Women and Little House on the Prairie and Heidi, on Edith Nesbit and Edward Eager and Madeleine L'Engle, and all the thousands of books that I could spend this entire post listing, but won't. I can't remember NOT reading, not wanting to read. I stayed up too late reading; I still do. I read on the couch, on the floor, in the living room, in my bedroom, on the porch (but not in the car, sadly). I read instead of doing chores I was supposed to be doing. I read instead of watching TV. When I could, I read at the table, though my mother brought me up to set aside my book if anyone else was sitting at the table with me. I read for fun, for pleasure, for escapism, for knowledge. I steeped myself in words and immersed myself in other worlds, other minds, other lives.

I don't remember learning to read. And I don't remember learning to write, but I remember the writing that made me turn to words in a different way. The writing that made me realize that there was structure, and beauty and purpose to writing; that it didn't just appear on the page, but that someone carefully constructed it and placed it just so, in a way that crystallized thought. Oh sure, I wrote before that. And I knew that writing could be something beautiful, that a perfect turn of phrase was something to strive for. I wrote stories and essays and even poetry, but it was this poem that struck me like a bolt of lightning and made me start scouring the shelves for more:


Body my house
my horse my hound
what will I do
when you are fallen

Where will I sleep
How will I ride
What will I hunt

Where can I go
without my mount
all eager and quick
How will I know
in thicket ahead
is danger or treasure
When Body my good
bright dog is dead

How will it be
to lie in the sky
without roof or door
and wind for an eye

with cloud for a shift
how will I hide?

—May Swenson

It's the poets that know how to craft thought into something flexible and sinuous and heartbreaking. They pull the curtains aside and leave you staring out the window of your mind at something that widens your eyes, and strikes your soul. They let the light in. I devoured poetry, tearing great swathes through Theodore Roethke, e.e. cummings, Marge Piercy, Rainer Maria Rilke and Mary Oliver. They got me writing in ways I had never considered before. They showed me how to put words together. They shone a light on the importance of my voice and my memories and my stories and made me think differently about how to share them.

What will you do, God, when I die?

WHAT will you do, God, when I die?
I am your jar (if cracked, I lie?)
Your well-spring (if the well go dry?)
I am your craft, your vesture I—
You lose your purport, losing me.

When I go, your cold house will be
Empty of words that made it sweet.
I am the sandals your bare feet
Will seek and long for, wearily.

Your cloak will fall from aching bones.
Your glance, that my warm cheeks have cheered
As with a cushion long endeared,
Will wonder at a loss so weird;
And, when the sun has disappeared,
Lie in the lap of alien stones.

What will you do, God? I am feared.

—Rainer Maria Rilke

Death is on my mind today, because I saw this morning on the news that Mary Oliver had died. She wrote so many good poems and had so many wise things to say that I can't choose between them for favorites. But this, a poem she wrote about death and dying ends, like so many other good poems, by showing you how to live.

When death comes

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

—Mary Oliver

Me neither, Mary. Me neither.
mood: sad
music: Poema—Footprints

zird is the word [userpic]
We woke up to the white stuff today, and lots of it. Even though I don't think there was actually that much, what there was seemed to have been blown into our yard, along our streets and all over our cars. But when I went outside to scrape, I discovered it was all white fluffy fluffness, easily brushed off. The roads, on the other hand, were not so fun. We narrowly missed being trapped in our neighborhood by a bus that couldn't make an uphill turn and then WERE trapped by another bus that couldn't make the turn in our tiny traffic circle. He finally slid to the side far enough for us to go around. Ice everywhere underneath, and frozen snow snakes all the way to Gårdstånga. Just before we got to the highway, where I could see long ropes of red taillights heading up the hill to Lund, there was a truck, also slid, blocking traffic. We managed to get around him and made it up the hill at a steady pace. We actually got to work only about 5 minutes after we would have with no snow, but people coming from parts southerly were stuck in snow chaos traffic for ages. It was a bit strange that it was only my daughter and myself at work for over an hour!

Work is already insane and it's only the second week of January. I don't want to talk about it.

It was snowing again during mid-morning but by lunch the sun had come out and the snow had stopped and what there was seemed to mostly disappear. Not sure if was blown away or melted, because when we left at 4, it was FREEZING out. It sure looks pretty, even if it's a pain to drive in. And since we had only a dusting of snow in Michigan over Christmas (while they had a white one here), I'm glad to see some of it, especially after two solid days of pouring rain. I'd much rather have snow than rain. It's so pretty and it lightens EVERYTHING up. Even if the light is slowly returning, it's hard to tell in January.

I've been wiped out all week and weekend, fatigue is painful. I get so tired, I can't see straight, and despite trying to stay up until a reasonable hour before going to bed, I still keep waking up several times at night. GAH. It can't still be jetlag. Whatever it is, it's a pain in the butt. I have things to do! I can't keep taking naps or being tired all the time.

Yesterday, we met Anders' sister and his mom at her apartment to pick up the rest of the things she wanted to move to her new room in the assisted living facility we moved her to right before Christmas. When we first moved her, it was only with the bare minimum: winter clothes, bed linens, dresser, nightstand, chair, TV, some plants, and a bookcase. But it looked and felt very unfinished. Now she has paintings and pictures up on the walls, family photos arranged on the shelves, another chair and coffee table, and lamps for her windows. Much cozier!

We also went through and cleaned out her refrigerator, freezer and pantry, and started work on figuring out what to do with all her stuff. Anders and his sister will need to decide what they want, if anything, before they let the grandkids loose. Then whatever is left over will go to charity or possibly auction (depending), or get tossed. It's not a big apartment but it's still a lot of stuff. It makes me come home to my own stuff and look at it with jaded eyes.

Our house is too big already and it's full of stuff, but it's all stuff I LOVE. It's all stuff I have spent years accumulating and when I look around it's hard to think about getting rid of the things I see. I regularly purge things, but still...and I can really only purge my OWN stuff. There are three other people that have stuff here, and I can't just get rid of things that are theirs, even if a couple of them aren't here much anymore. At some point, they won't get a choice...out it will have to go! I did manage to fill two bags with books for the AWC book sale coming up at the end of the month. I will look again this weekend, because I know I can get rid of more. That's one thing that struck me...what would I do without my books?? I don't think I could live in a one-room apartment that I couldn't fit all my books into. Perish the thought.

And now, guess what? I am tired and my eyes hurt, and I am thinking about going to bed, even though it's not even 9 pm. All this tiredness is making me feel old. I shall go and read more of the book I am in the middle of, since I have to finish it by tomorrow night. It's for book group on Thursday and since I have a dinner to go to on Wednesday, I'd better get cracking.

Anders is in the kitchen, chopping red onions in preparation for pickling. I bought them and asked him to make pickled red onions because they are so good with the salads I make and take to work all week long. Yum yum! And I have hearts of palm to go in, too. Tomorrow my salad will be spinach, smoked salmon, feta, hearts of palm, pickled red onions, pumpkin seeds, baby plum tomatoes and a little zucchini. Lyx!
mood: sleepy
music: The Pretenders—Show Me

zird is the word [userpic]
I don't take as many photos as I should...these days I tend to spend more time in the moment, and whipping out my phone to stop the action in its tracks and document it rarely foremost in my mind. So it's a good thing that I have friends and family who manage to step up and take photos so I have them to remember the good times by!

Down in Detroit by the big tree, enjoying the lights and the sights

Grandma Linda with Martin and Karin

Cousins at Christmas!


Happy mom reunited with a kid who is too far away!

A kiss for Grandma!


4 generations of Pangborn/Slaughter/Ek women

Martin & Karin with Great-Grandma and Grandma Linda

Karin and Kathey chilling

Russell, Karin and Anders chilling (for real)

Kathey and Russell and mom chilling Michigan style, brrrr!

Martin & Karin ready to party on New Year's

Fantastic New Year's Eve feast served up by Anders

Celebrating New Year's with good friends and family

Group shot: Anders, Grandma Linda, Liz, Karin, Kathey, Martin, Russell

(C) Photo credits: Anders Ek, Russell Gilbert, Martin Ek, Jennifer Pangborn, Liz Slaughter-Ek
mood: calm

zird is the word [userpic]
It was kind of a weird Christmas, gift-wise, since we waited until the last minute to do all our shopping, and we were with each other while we were shopping and so everyone knew pretty much everything we were getting, even though things still got wrapped and put under the tree. But it meant that we were getting things we really needed and wanted, so that worked out well, and both the kids were thrilled with their "big" presents: Karin got a gimbal stabilizer for her phone and Martin got a tripod, at which he exclaimed, "Now I'm a real photographer!" :D I gave Anders a kayak rescue kit that he wanted, and he gave me new walking shoes which I needed. Win-win!

One of the nicest gifts I got was a slim volume of stories that my mom had contributed to. And then she gave me some of the Moorcroft pottery that I had originally purchased for her, at her cost, years ago, when I was in England; a bowl and a tiny saucer. I love Moorcroft but have never been able to afford any, so that was a thrill. Martin and Karin gave me pottery too, 3 lovely bowls that were made by the administrator of Martin's photo department. The best gift by far was getting to spend time together, though. It gets harder every year that my mom is so far away and that I see her so infrequently, and now with Martin as far, it feels double as tough.

A few days after Christmas, our good friends Kathey & Russell arrived and we had 3.5 days of fun with them, including going to see Mary Poppins Returns and playing fun new games like Telestrations, which has a stupid name, but a great premise: it's a mix of the old whispering game of Telephone with illustrations. They celebrated New Year's Eve with us, although the kids ditched us old folks and took the car to a college party in Detroit. I had minor palpitations at the whole idea, but they were great and very responsible. Karin drove since she can't drink in the US, and Martin and his friends were very grateful. They even came home instead of staying downtown so I was heartened to see them both in bed when I got up (late) the next morning. We were even able to meet up with my college roommate Julie and her husband for a fun day of museum-going, bowling and sushi. :)

The other Swedish thing that we did in Michigan was eat homemade semlor! Russell came with a recipe and ingredients and the desire to learn how to bake this traditional Swedish Lenten pastry: basically a cardemom bun filled with almond paste and whipped cream that is only available in Sweden between Christmas and Easter. We women went shopping and Anders and Russell stayed home and baked. Yum! Semla are yummy but usually one per year is enough for me, so now I'm done, haha!

It was a bummer that my sister and brother and their families weren't there, though the house WAS a lot quieter. :D We still had a row of our famous Pangborn family knitted stockings hung across the fireplace and I think that alone made me feel like it was really Christmas at last. Mom and I went through some old photo albums and cleaned them out, laughing and saving the good ones of our family, and tossing ruined/discolored photos, photos of landscapes of trips no one remembered going on and pictures of old friend's babies that no one could remember the names of.

I haven't made New Years resolutions per se, but I have manageable goals for the year and hope to work on and achieve them all, with no pressure and no stress, including losing the weight I've regained this year. I'm back on track at the moment, and after our January paycheck will be hunting for a used treadmill to replace the one that broke last year so that I have no excuses for not walking, even if the weather is crappy. What I really need, I suspect, is a dog...that would force me to walk every day, right ozswede?

We flew back to Sweden on Friday, January 4 and I would very much like a vacation do-over with some more relaxation included, if not cookies. It was a great three weeks but jam-packed with stuff and people and go go go the whole time. Getting home was nice, even if I always have mixed feelings about leaving my mom and Michigan. My suitcase didn't make it on to the connecting flight from Amsterdam and I had to wait 2 days for it to get delivered, and had to go buy makeup since everything I had was in it, and I couldn't go to work with jetlag face. Anders had to leave abruptly and unexpectedly on Monday for a work trip to sub for a trainer in Italy that called in sick for a course this week. I am right back in the swing of crazy at work, and so is Karin (and she got her contract at my company extended through the end of February!) and it feels like things are just ramping up, so hello 2019, here we are!
mood: awake
music: Girlyman—Joyful Sign

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lizardek's obiter photos
lizardek's obiter photos

Feeling generous? Be my guest!

I can complain because rose bushes have thorns or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.

Abraham Lincoln

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