Sunday workout, rules and ettiquette

Just got back from the gym. It's always really hard to get me there, I dawdle and procrastinate, but once I am there, I do try to push myself with the weights and I try to always go to the next level. I go for heavy as I can and 3 reps of 10, I don't mess around with little girly weights in many reps. What's the point?

Anyhow, I always end up getting PISSED off at the people in the gym. Norwegians are seemingly masters of creating a space around themselves where they honestly don't notice or acknowledge other people, it's like they are the only ones who exist. It's a truly unique cultural trait, I've never seen it anywhere else. They just don't see you unless they physically run over you, then they are surprised you are in their way. It's not specifically rudeness (though ohmyGOD it comes across that way) it's more a sort of self reliance and self-containment kind of thing. (People from America don't get this, and I doubt we ever will, as we are pretty much trained from birth to focus on the outside and pay attention to those around us.) This must be nice if you are the one inside the bubble, but it's INFURIATING when someone, say me, is at the gym and I just want to get on the one last machine I need to get on to finish my workout.

But on that machine is a blissfully unaware Norwegian guy, let's call him Mr Thousand Yard Stare. He does a few reps on the leg machine, then has a rest period. Does a few more reps, has another rest period. Gets out his iPhone, sends a text, has a rest, finds a song to download, whatever the FUCK it is when people dawdle on a machine. By now, I am hovering in a very obvious way. He's been on there 12 minutes. (I timed it.) He never once acknowledges my hovering, maybe offers to let me work in (do they even do that here? I doubt it as we don't ever talk to strangers in Norway) or anything. Just takes his SWEET EFFING TIME on the one machine I want to use, like it's an armchair, and then leisurely gets off it, leaving it sweaty and funky. He never acknowledges my antsy hovering. An American, from cultural guilt or whatever it is we have that makes us always refer to those around us, would've gotten out of the way and let me work in. No problem, easy peasy.

I wish I could say it's a one time occurence. It's not. It happens all the time. I get so frustrated when I go to the gym, because I like to work fast, rotating from machine to machine to free weights and around, in out and about, keeping up my heart rate and really pushing myself for that one hour. That's just how it works in the gyms I learned how to 'gym' in. I try to alter as I must, depending on who is where and the busyness of the place, but there is always one joker who thinks they own the damn gym and just dawdles. ARGH!

Drives me nuts.

Still, the benefits outweigh the frustration. I like the feeling of muscles in places that I really never felt muscular before. My butt is definitely firmer and higher. My hips are narrower. My stomach is really firm, I am having problems finding enough core ab exercises to challenge it. My arms are actually noticeably more shapely, there's definition and even some shoulder muscles happening. I feel stronger, I feel healthier and I have better stamina. My back doesn't hurt anymore (well, rarely) and oddly, I don't get heartburn anymore either. All this makes me realize that I am definitely of the body type that likes to build muscle. Aerobics never got me results like this, and never made me feel like this, either. So I guess I can put up with some Thousand Yard Stare people. (Barely.) What I really wish for is to someday have my own gym in my house, then I could go workout whenever I wanted, without having to put up with machine hoggers. Wouldn't that be nice?

WEll, shit. Go ahead and make me homesick, why don't you, NYT?

Read this article and weep if you are a Texas expat.

Then, after you are done reading that, read this and cry some more, and then get really hungry for barbeque.

Damn. I seriously want some ribs.

The George, Liverpool St, London

IMG-20120207-01088.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

Lunch at The George, Liverpool St. Strongbow and Fish and Chips. Really tasty. Good service, too.

View of the Tower from the hotel

IMG-20120204-01057.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

The Tower of London and the Tower Bridge at dusk. Great view from the bar on the top of the hotel.

london calling

Heading to London for a fun weekend tomorrow. Catching up with friends and family and getting to wander around my all time favorite city. I'm sharing a room with a girlfriend, and another girlfriend is coming in for the weekend, then I also get to meet up with one of my wonderful cousins and my favorite Auntie. Rich is staying here. He's giving me the weekend off. But he's gonna stay inside. Avoiding the cold.

How cold is it? THIS cold. That's fahrenheit, people!

I made sure, this trip, to pack BEFORE I had anything to drink. When we went to Berlin last October, I was slightly tipsy when I packed and ended up in Berlin with one pair of pants and 6 pairs of shoes, 2 of which were sandals. In October? I still have no idea WTF I was thinking, with that, but am pretty sure the rosé had some effect. So now I have a strict 'no drinking while packing' policy. Judging from my past performance, that is wise.

They are forecasting everything from sun to snow to rain in London, so I've packed a fairly brilliant yet compact wardrobe based on the one confirmed fact: it will be cold. Not as cold as here, in fact it will be about 25F warmer in London than here, which in normal circumstances would mean bikinis and a tan. But this winter, it means merely that I will still freeze my ass off, but not as quickly.

Brrr. Just, Brrrr.

hearts of ice and snow

IMG-20120201-01055.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr

Ice cold day in Oslo but some beauty to be had. Two hearts made from a car doing a three point turn.

good sunday

Today is turning out pretty good.

Woke up late, lazed in bed.

Watched an episode of True Blood, season 4, which I was given by a coworker. It's full of truly smoking, hot, gorgeous, TALL naked men, so I fully approve of this season. It's like porn for Karla, basically. Me likey. My goth side REALLY likey. Mmmm....

After watching that episode, I got out of bed, threw some chicken, onions, garlic and green tomatillo salsa in the slow cooker, and started cooking dinner. I love the slow cooker, you just stir every few hours and go about your day, and in 8 hours, voila! Dinner!

Went to the gym. Had a good workout, my legs will kill me tomorrow. My arms are still shaky.

Come back, checked on dinner, wow, look at me slave over a hot stove, not.

Am now watching more eps of True Blood, while drinking my new favorite drink, Riondo pink prosecco. ohmyfuckinggod is that stuff good.

Later, after dinner (see above re: slaving, etc) I will have a nice hot bath, more prosecco, and then a good night's sleep.

I rather like today. (Though I didn't do the one thing I needed to do, which is clean some shit up around here, but, eh, it will wait, it always does.) Now if you will excuse me, I think Eric Northman is about to get naked again, I don't want to miss that.

PS Holy shit, just noticed I haven't posted in 2 weeks? Really? Sorry about that, truly. I had no idea my frequency of posting has dropped that much. I will try to be better. I always mean to post, but usually at the end of the day I am so sick of computers, the last thing I want to do is be on one some more. I'll try to post more, sorry about that! (If anyone is left reading, that is....)

While I wait for my bath to fill up, a bullet post

• I totally don't get the Tim Tebow thing, and I never will.
• This is because, mainly, that I am not a football fan.
  
• Never have been.
• Yes, I know this is heresy for a Texan.
• Bite me.
  
• Anyhow, I don't get why this guy is being so lauded for his religious zealotry.
• I wonder if people would admire him as much if he were Muslim or Buddhist.
• Heh, I bet not.
• I get restless this time of year.
• Something about the cold, and the light starting to rebuild, and me being stuck inside.
• (Funny, I talked to my mom yesterday, like I do every Saturday, and she gets like this too. Is it genetic?)
  
• It usually means I clean stuff and throw shit out.
• Today I hit my bathroom, got rid of old vitamins, hair products, etc.
• And cleaned every shelf in there.
  
• I also vacuumed, mopped the whole apartment, and completely cleaned the kitchen top to bottom.
• I had no idea that the kitchen fan filter could get THAT disgusting.
  
• Note to self, clean that sucker way more often.
  
• Then I was still hyper (listening to music does that to me) so I worked out.
• Just a small workout on my mini trampoline, with weights and stuff.
• (I hate doing squats, but they are mighty effective!)
  
• Not as big a workout as at the gym, but I could still watch the Las Vegas Pawn Stars at the same time.
• I love that show.
• I need to buy heavier hand weights.
  
• Rich made dinner.
• He's got the potential to be a good cook, he just needs to learn those little tricks of the trade, like what you can substitute for other stuff and that you can tweak a recipe to suit.
• So he made a very good chicken pot pie.
  
• I was impressed.
• I'm also full.
  
• Burp.
  
• Back to work tomorrow.
  
• Oh lord this time of year is hard.
• No time off any time soon and just one slog after another.
• I do have a little break coming up soon in London, though.
  
• Yippee!
• Oh, and just because I could: I bought a US size 10 leather dress the other day. SIZE FREAKING 10! it fit!
  
• Squeee!
  

my pants

IMG-20120105-01048.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

My pants have this vaguely Asian language print on them. I've had them for years. I rarely wear them because, once, I wore them when I was at Epcot on a vacation and people (mostly Asians) kept staring at me. And staring. And staring. I don't generally like having my ass stared at in the best of times, so of course t his started to wig me out.

I got totally paranoid, then, because I realized, these pants could be a total billboard of stupidity. Like, the fabric designer could have written all over the fabric (and hence my ass) things like "The person wearing these pants is an idiot!" or "This is the biggest ass in the world!" "I am fat and ugly and my butthole smells funny!" and I'd totally be walking around oblivious to the fact that my pants are a giant joke perpetrated by some clever and cruel fabric designer.

Think about it. It could happen.

So, even though I love these pants, they fit like the bomb and they are red and black, which I love, I rarely wear them because i am really jsut too worried about what they might say.

Yeah, first world problem or what?

IN which I am addicted to Downton Abbey

I've got Downton Abbey on DVD, seasons 1 and 2, that I got in London. I just rewatched season 1, and will hunker down and see season 2 this weekend.

I saw this spoof of it on You Tube, from the BBC, that was so funny it actually made me snort my morning coffee out of my nose. That is rare, as I generally don't laugh before 9am, because i don't like mornings.



If this doesn't make you snort, you may not read my blog anymore. I especially lost it when they introduced O'Brien, about halfway through, when the servants were standing out side the house greeting the guests. BWAH HAHAHA! (Then Carson burped.) (Carson in this case reminds me of my friend Grant.)

HAHAHAHA!

Merry Christmas!

Wishing you a very Merry Christmas and happy holidays.
If your particular Christmas doesn't look like this (and very few do, this is old town Tallin, Estonia, from a trip we took in 2009) I hope you are drunk enough, warm enough and happy enough not to care. I know I am!
Love, and thanks for visiting, Karla

flower FAIL

This is what I ordered from 1-800-Flowers for my mom for Christmas. A little spot of color and brightness to liven up winter, which can be dreary, as we all know. A bouquet called "Field of Europe". Colorful, bright, with lilies and gerber daisies and roses. (Note the lack of carnations.)

This is what she got. Some crappy white roses, carnations (I HATE carnations, HATE them!) and baby's breath. WHAT THE FRIGGETY FUCK? How did Fields of Europe become a Load of Crap?

I called 1800 Flowers and was all, "WTF?" They said the local florist is the one who makes the bouquets, and so they will let them know I am not happy. I'm thinking, if the local florist can't offer what is pictured, then maybe they should not offer to be a part of the 1800Flowers website. To the website's credit, they are going to redeliver what I ordered, and they gave me a 50% refund.

Now, my parents DO live in the middle of nowhere. I totally get that. But if a local florist says they can do whatever the website offers (and let's face it, these are not exactly exotic flowers that are offered) they better damn well do what they say they will do and not try to sneak something by me, and the customers of the website. I mean, wow. How shitty is that?

Oslo party remnants

IMG-20111222-01039.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

Oslo morning after. I found this bottle exactly as pictured. Someone is regretting drinking that!

My manky mink

It gets cold in Norway.

I mean, yeah, I know people know that, but damn, it gets COLD in Norway. And sometimes my goosedown duffle coat just doesn't quite cut it. Sometimes, you need to go old skool.

So I finally gave in and went Russian style and bought a mink coat. (Russians know cold, and they know how to keep warm, too.)

Now, before you PETA types come screaming at me, listen up.

I don't buy new fur, and I don't think I ever would. (I do have my grandmother's old sable muff, and a fur stole that I bought from a vintage fur stand on Portobello road.) Not when there is so much awesome vintage fur around. Seriously, grannies die, and they leave all these fur coats around, and who am I to say no to a coat that is not only cheaper than any new run of the mill cloth coat, but actually, really, truly, no shit, keeps you warm? I think of it as haut recycling.

So, yes, I bought an old, second hand, used as shit mink coat. I got it at a Salvation Army type place in Oslo called UFF. As in, Uffda! I bought a mink! Well, actually, I made Rich buy it, though I picked it out, so that he could say, in all honestly, that he bought me a mink coat.

I kind of think the used mink might be the best thing I have ever gotten. It's warm. It's soft. It's oddly flattering. It's comfortable. It does glorious things for my 40+ year old skin. I can insouciantly toss it on over any old thing and I truly do feel glamourous. It cost about 7% of what a new mink cost, and it cost less than a new coat costs. It's real honest to God recycling, and I wonder who owned it before me.

I love love love love love it. Even if I do look a bit like a little teddy bear in it. It has no shape, it's just a fur barrel of warmth. There's sort of an ageist thing around here that only older ladies wear minks. I am still a bit young to be sporting the fur, ok, to be honest, right on the edge, but shit, I got tired of being cold and wanted something I could throw on and guarantee that I would not be cold. I figure, I am tall enough, perhaps hip enough, and young enough to carry it off ironically, especially since my hair is still long and wild and not short and 'set' like the older ladies. Plus I wear it with Frye biker boots. Old ladies don't wear Frye biker boots, do they?

I had a Russian friend of mine at work check it out. She expertly crinkled it up in one hand (it's not dried out, that's good), checked the fur for cracks (none), checked the weight (light and lofty, good quality), looked for shedding (none) and checked the shine and smell (all good). She said I got a good deal and that it is a high quality old mink.

All I can say is, this coat is the most practical thing I could have bought in Norway. It's warm, it's pretty and it's comfortable.

So here's me, wearing a mink. Ironically, yet practically. I feel glamorous in it. I like to toss it on the sofa at work, where it sits, like an uber-luxurious throw, and it shines in the dark Norwegian winter light. I totally get the appeal.

But, like i said, I wouldn't buy new. I like the old. It suits me.

I got the butter hook up.

IMG-20111217-01033.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

Busy busy. Thanks to two friends who gave me some black market Swedish butter, I've been able to be somewhat profligate and used a pound of butter to bake today. How decadent! Chocolate chip cookies complete, next up oatmeal raisin. Smells like the holidays up in here. Thanks, Sweden for filling in the holes left by the Norwegian dairy monopoly Tine and overly protective tariffs.

I have GOT to hit the gym tomorrow to make up for all the cookie dough I just ate.

Not dead, just hella busy.

Hit the ground running after my trip home and have not had time to come up for breath yet. I convinced Rich that he would be a better Christmas tree elf than me this year, so he has been slow and steady getting some Christmas sparkle into the house.

He's rather a large elf, but useful for things like tree toppers and garland in high places.....

Grrr......

This really pisses me off.(The "grr" is a link, btw.)

Awaiting my flight

Awaiting my flight, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

In BA business lounge. The next 11 hours will be spent with these 2 things.

quickie

I'm freaking exhausted. Drove straight from Missouri to Houston in one shot, with only some delays in Dallas. It was fun, actually, when I get into road trip mode I can go and go and go, but once I stop that's it, I'm swaying from exhaustion, kind of like I am now.

I'm at a La Quinta in Houston, a rather odd place with a tiny little desk clerk straight out of Of Mice and Men. When I arrived I caught him watching the Victoria's Secret 'Fashion' Show, ('fashion' being surrounded by ironic finger quotes, cuz that ain't fashion, it's just T&A). Kind of funny. I hope the door locks are secure, though. And that there aren't any little secret cameras in this room. Yoiks. yeah, he kind of reminds me of one of those kind of guys. I'll change clothes in the closet.

I always wonder what would happen if I got stopped by a cop on the road trips I take when I come home, as I routinely go at least 85 mph and this time I really pushed it. I have my Norwegian driver's license, I kind of want to see what they would do if they did stop me and that's what I gave them. But it hasn't happened in 9 years of me having it. Hmm. Maybe it's a magic bullet of anti-cop-stoppingness? I really liked my rental car this time around, a VW CC Turbo. Fun and it has this crazy gearbox that can be manual (without clutch, but you do shift) or automatic. It could be the ultimate compromise between my lust for sporty cars and Rich's desire for lazy marshmallow automatics.

I could see the Milky Way from the windshield as I drove, singing along to Lyle Lovett, it was that dark on the road from Dallas to Houston. Fuck, I'm gonna miss me some Texas!

Note to former Houstonites: Dave Ward is still the news anchor on Eyewitness News 13! He looks totally ancient, but it's the same guy! He's been the news guy since I was a kid. (Marvin Zindler died, though, right?)

Scenes from a walk in the woods (Ozarks)

Went on a walk in the woods today, on a cold Fall day. I'm heading back to Norway this week, though it's actually colder here in MO than it is in NO right now. This is all on my parents' property, in a place that is literally almost named Bumfuck. Still, Bumfuck is really pretty. The dog is also theirs, one of three, though one is pretty old and I think he won't be around much longer. Teufel, you're a good ol' boy.

Argh, I don't want to do the flight back. Such a pain in the ass. Sigh. Can't I just stay here, in the bosom of my family, I get wine in the evenings with Mom, and we giggle a bit, and today Dad gave me all the stuff he has on the family history, which was interesting to read. (Interesting factoid I found out, whether it's true or not I don't know, but apparently my German grandmother's (Mom's mom) governess was one of Franz Kafka's sisters. This would've been in the teens/twenties, in the part of Germany that became east Germany before the war. I'm not sure which sister, but Mom thinks it was Elli, the eldest.)

I don't WANNA go....

Road trip, somewhere in Oklahoma

221120113352.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

85 miles per hour for 750 miles. (Ok, I went slower a few times.)

Why America has a weight problem

Why America has a weight problem, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

This is a bucket they sell at a convenience store for people to fill with Coke. Seriously.

Enchanted

Enchanted, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

On top of Enchanted Rock!