I haven't mentioned the Olympics much here, because as you may or may not know, I don't watch TV hardly ever, except for West Wing which disappeared from Swedish television like 8 months ago and apparently likes vacation so much it is never coming back, and Little House on the Prairie re-runs which I would totally sit slowly down on the sofa for, relaxing into a slack-jawed state because Michael Landon OH HOW WE MISS YOU!

I'm secretly hoping that Swedish TV will start sending showing Little House re-runs on Fridays so that Karin can be properly introduced to the Ingalls as a part of every child's necessary education, during our Year of Free Fridays. Although, Martin would probably enjoy it more, I can so see Karin stealing riffs off Nellie Olsson and incorporating them into family life. When I was home with infant Martin, 2 different Little House seasons were showing on 2 different channels and it was a very colonial time-warp, watching teenage Laura in the early afternoons and little Laura about 2 hours later with a cold-dash-of-reality-Oprah in the middle. Thank god my normal television-watching habits reverted soon afterward and I went back to reading instead of watching TV. People used to tell me I looked like Laura Ingalls when I was young, but what they really meant is that I looked like Melissa Gilbert. Nobody tells me that now, dammit.

I finished the most excellent book yesterday, Haven Kimmel's first novel, The Solace of Leaving Early. I marked several pages with tiny dog-ears where there were passages I have to copy into my notebooks for remembering, but since I'm writing this from work I can't share them with you. Ms. Kimmel published her autobiography first, A Girl Named Zippy and I can recommend that one highly as well. I can't wait to get my hands on her next book.

In other news, the cherry tree is planted. It's taller than me, but I can't see it from our bed, more's the pity. I really, really hope that it has cherries next year because that will give me an excuse to steal my Michigan Cherries Recipe book back from Angie, cuz I'm an indian-giver that way. And in a not-so-subtle attempt to completely cement our Swedishness (because we already have 2 children and a Volvo), we're heading to IKEA tonight to buy a new kitchen table and chairs because you can NEVER HAVE TOO MUCH STUFF FROM IKEA. Okay, I lied. You can. I used to be winning the furniture wars. It was my dark-wood, heavy-footed, curvy, thick-n-nubby upholstered furniture against Anders' Scandinavian-design blond wood, straight-line, cotton-striped stuff. Not anymore, alas. My stuff is barely holding it's its it's its own nowadays against the IKEA incursion.* Damn their inexpensive and streamlined ways.

Walking with my brother around Flyinge the last couple of evenings has made me see it with unfamiliar eyes. Even though I think I have decently powerful powers of observation, it's still nice to push aside the contempt of familiarity and see things anew again. It reminds me that I really want to take my camera with me on my walks.

Cracking Me Up: (hello, Olympics, were your ears burning?) Woo Your Woman

Happy Happy Birthday Wishes to inblackink!

*Oh for god's sake, how many times can one possibly remove and reinsert a damned apostrophe?!