Dread

You know how there is something you have to do but really don't want to do and you put it off and you put it off until it gets sort of insane and then you dream about it and it presses on you and yet you still don't do it because you just.can't.face.it? But it's always THERE, right there, looking at you and you really just want it to go away but you know you are really the only one who can make it go (even if there are extenuating circumstances that hampered things, but then those were cleared up and so now it really is just you)?

And then you finally get the cojones to do it...and it wasn't even anything problematic at all, and it took such a short time you could just kick yourself because honestly, Karla, what the hell was all that fuss about? And it might have even been just the tiniest bit...interesting?

I just did something that has been hanging over me for TWO YEARS and now I'm all, dude, what the hell, that was not bad at ALL.

I feel like I just did that term paper I was dreading or something.

Wow.

updates and changes

I'm working on updating the labels on this blog, so that you can go through and search the archives by subject. I've had a few people mention that I should do that, so am attempting it.

And it's taking a damned long time, as I need to go through each of my almost 900 posts (!!!!) to see what I wrote and what labels it needs, then add them. So if your RSS feeds are going nuts for my blog, sorry about that. I have to republish each post to get the labels on there. There might be a better way, which I will attempt to find out today.

So far my most populous label seems to be "wierdness". Figures, don't it.

A Siberian cold front is moving through the Oslo area this week. Holy crap it's cold. This only reinforces my intense desire to never live in Siberia. If this is their leftovers, I don't want to be there for the freshness!

things I was going to write about....

I had a whole mental write-up of what I was going to blog this morning when I was on the train. I should probably bring my computer and do little mini-posts in something like Word and then save it for posting later. But I never do that and so all the clever things I think of to write just disappear into the ether of my brain.

It included the guy waiting for the train wearing a Santa hat and drinking a beer (at 9:30am...Bad Santa?) and the lady sitting next to me wearing the most amazing pair of shoes from circa 1978...complete with that wierd Brazilian leather we always used to wear and HUGE brown wedge heels. Round toes...70's swooshy decor molded into the ghetto-fab squashy plastic heels.

Then I got to work and forgot all about blogging as it has been non-stop- balls- to- the- wall- don't- even- have- time- to- pee craziness. This is made harder by the fact that I don't have a phone yet in my office and everyone is like "please all me ASAP!" and I have to either run down to their office or find an office with a phone and then make the calls. Plus the printer is also a floor down, so that makes things aerobic as well. I am getting plenty of stair time and am dropping weight like crazy just trying to keep up. I ate a boller and two mini Twix snacky bars today. Oy.

So today I just worked and worked and never got away from the computer....except when I was StairMastering. I got alot done but I am not even near to digging myself out of the shit pile. I almost got sent to Trondheim to courier one guy's passport to him...things are just insane and we are to the point where even FedEx is not fast enough.

However, this is all making me sleep really well and last night I slept like a ROCK. I didn't even hear the alarm this morning and only woke up when Rich yelled "Bye!" this morning. (His way of also saying "wake the fuck up lazy bones!".)

Now I'm at home after working late. Late in Norway is 5:30. I picked up a couple of chicken schwarmas for dinnner (cook? tonight? don't think so) and the Simpsons is on.

Right now Friday is looking good. I can go the pub, have my biffsnadder (slso known as Norwegian Trucker food, it's just sauteed beef strips with fries and bearnaise sauce, but it's addictive and yummy as hell) and a beer or two and chill out with the boys.

Happy Karla

Hello and major apologies for not posting. And also, THIS is why I did not do that NANoBlogMo or whatever the fuck. I have had no access to a computer until now. Honestly, it hasn't been that much of a problem. Just been hanging out with Rich and his Mom and taking it easy. I can SLEEP here like nobody's business. Sleep and eat.

I am in Pennsylvannia. Coming to the Northeast of the US is, to me, a dyed in the wool Texan, as exotic as traveling to Turkey or France. It's a whole 'nother country. Yankees everywhere, with funny accents, bless my southern boots. But DAMN are they nice. Everyone here is so friendly and helpful, they'll stop whatever they are doing to help you even if you don't ask for it. (They listen to your conversations, and I forget that everyone here speaks english!) It's wierd as I am NOT used to that anymore. You don't talk to strangers in Norway. And a stranger initiating the conversation? No way! I have to remind myself to talk to folks and not just blend into the crowd quietly as I am used to doing.

We've spent the last week shopping for a sportcoat/blazer for Rich and having NO luck. As a 46 extra long, he is apparently a gorilla armed freak and there is nothing around here anywhere for him. We've given up and he is just going to wear a black turtleneck and jeans to the reunion, which is SATURDAY, eek! I got a facial today and a mani/pedi in preparation. I have, as I was told by the aestheticians, great skin and horrible nails, but I knew that already. Horrible nails because I bite them into oblivion. Great skin because of genetics and sun screen devotion over the last few years. Let's hope it keeps up.

The weather was really cold when we got here. I did not pack enough warm clothes. But it warmed up today and it was gorgeous. Rich's mom lives in an old town along the Susquehanna River in Pennsylvania. The house she lives in is an old one, built in 1840 or so, and it was a shop and a dentist's office and other things over the years, so it's a bit funky, but cool. there are lots of grogeous old Victorian homes all around so walking is very nice. I went for a walk the other morning and there was tons to look at. I could totally live in some of these houses. GORGEOUS.

In other news, WOO to the Democrats! I have had to keep my mouth shut as I am in Republicanville and am branded a liberal by all who see me, but I have been quietly (well, sort of quietly) crowing and gloating these past 24 hours. WOO fucking HOO! I was really nervous about the elections, but am glad to see that Americans have smartened up about some things and want a change.......WOOOOO! Maybe I can move back home now? The local Republican Congressman for this area has an office right next to Rich's mom's place, and it sure was awful quiet around his office after he lost....(oh shadenfreude).

Tomorrow I go to Houston where we will meet up with my brother and my friends Anne and Nick. I fully expect to be horribly hung over on Sunday.......but at least my skin and nails will be in good shape.

aftermath

Is there such a thing as beforemath? Like, I had a straight "a" average in school beforemath, but aftermath it dropped to a "c"? Cuz, that, like, totally happened to me?

Ahem.

So, I got my passport back with the visa in it. AND the nice lady at the embassy gave me tons of brochures about Turkey. She's awesome. I heart her.

My bank card, alas, is toast. And I can't get another one before I go. It takes a week! Jeez, so much for service. So I got some USD out of the account here and will have to do an exchange once I get to Turkey. NOT my favorite solution. Luckily I am there with my parents...so, Dad, can I borrow some money? It'll be just like high school. Except now I can drink and cuss and I don't have a curfew. Well, not if they don't give me one......

I am not hungover after my "whine cure" of yesterday. So that's good. I do, however have cramps and will be flying on Day Two. So, pity me. Or, maybe more to the point, pity any poor SOB who dares fuck with me on that day because they will be destroyed. Destroyed by the withering glare of the Girl with the Evil Passport and Non-Magnetized Bank Card of Doom.

My dear husband has my useless passport pictures from yesterday pinned to his bulletin board above his desk. He says they are really good and "you can never have too many passport photos". Um, ok. How come it's always the things you don't really want that they say you can never have too many of? Like socks. You can never have too many socks. But seriously, who the fuck cares about socks? Not me. Unless they are in odd numbers, that pisses me off.

Which leads us to a good example of laundry aftermath.....

random strangeness in photo form

At Angkor in Cambodia there were alot of statues where the heads and/or bodies had been cut away by treasure hunters, leaving only the feet. Where others see tragedy, I see an opportunity for a goofy photo. I also wanted to compare my foot size to an ancient warrior's. Yes, my feet were dirty. It was hotter than Hades, dusty, and I only brought sandals. I would take two or three showers a day to cool off and clean off the dust of the day's explorations.

This was a campaign poster for a guy running for political office in Bangkok. The city was PLASTERED with them, all different faces, but very distinct "types". Millions of them. It was an endless source of amusement and photo fun. I title this one "Vote for me or I'll kill you". I kind of understand that whole coup thing better after having seen what they get for government leaders.

This was a little girl and her critter (ferret? I dunno, I'm not good at critter's names) I met in Cambodia at Ta Prohm temple, Angkor. I met alot of really interesting people wandering around the temples and ruins, and they were all so friendly and willing to share experiences. Some wanted money for it and some just wanted to talk to foreigners. It was fairly easy to figure out which was which on first sight. This girl was of the second sort, but no one was averse to a little money as a thank you.

The kids in Cambodia were so playful. These guys had a great time measuring their height as compared to Rich's. When we walked into this temple, a very small one, they all RUSHED at him en masse. They had never seen a man so tall in their lives, and HAD to see who among them was tallest on the Rich Scale.
This temple was known by all the tour guides in the area as The Dollar Temple. It was the only one that the sellers of souvenirs were allowed into. They'd all run up to you screaming, "One dollar! One dollar!", and wave their items in your face. The sellers were VERY insistent and could be a nuisance, and so were not allowed into most of the sites. It's understandable as you would not be able to see anything with all the people hanging off your arms all the time. They swarmed us everywhere else outside the sites, so it was nice to have a respite in the temples.

The one little girl doing the measuring was selling packets of 10 postcards and insisted on counting them out to me in every language she could count in, which was about 7. Good little counter. So I bought her cards, cuz, hell, her counting in Russian was pretty impressive. She only knew the numbers in the many languages, but she did have some English beyond. The Cambodians are MASTER sellers and will not leave you alone until you buy something or run away. I did a little of both. There's only so many dodgy packets of postcards one can own.

This little memory of the kids playing around Rich's knees is one of my favorite ones from the whole trip. It's always the faces you see and the people you meet who stick in the memory.

Stuff I do differently having lived in Europe for over 4 years.

I don’t hurry as much. Pretty much anything can be done tomorrow with the same result. If you call anyone after three pm, you probably won't get a response til the next day, anyhow.

Even though Europeans are more cell phone obsessed that Americans, I find I use my cell phone very little. Anyone who really needs to reach me will leave a message at home. See above, about not being in a hurry.

I cook from scratch. I don’t use packaged foods. I don’t do ‘to go’ dinners anymore. (Mostly because I can’t. There’s very little take away here that is not merely a snack wrapped in bread.)(That being said, I'd KILL for a taco stand.)

I eat WAY healthier. However, I eat ham and pork, now, which is something I didn’t do in the US. If you don’t eat pork products in Europe, you are sometimes hard pressed to find any protein. Especially at breakfast. Ham o rama.

I walk a lot more. I also stop. Just because.

I was middle of the road liberal before I left the US. Now I’ve pretty much crossed that road to the left side. I'm almost off the shoulder.

I sleep with the window open. I MUST have fresh air in the house. Wonder how that will pan out back in Texas?

I tolerate cold a lot better. In fact, I like sleeping in a cool room.

I can do that European scarf thing. And I have a lot of scarves now. Even ‘summer’ scarves.

I understand what a ‘summer’ sweater is for. In Texas they just don’t exist.(A Texan would be all: Summer sweater? Is that like a winter sandal?) Now I actually sort of feel strange in summer wearing just a tank top and not having a sweater. Like, any minute it will snow or something. And I'll be caught out.

I also understand the brilliance that is wool socks. They really DO work in summer AND winter!

Shoes have to be cute AND practical. No more buying them just because they are cute. I also think of snow worthiness. I know, strange, no?

I’m not afraid of calling internationally any more, and I see that it is actually very easy. A lot of Americans think it’s hard or don’t know how.

I don't worry about being murdered in my bed. I do worry about being burgled. Alot.

I no longer fear there will be a roach in every dark corner, as most native South Texans grow up fearing. I haven't seen a roach in 4 years.

I also see now how easy it is to travel. Packing, planning, worrying…..It used to be a big deal. Now? Not so much. If you forget something, you can buy a replacement. If you don’t have it, you can probably do with out. Now I generally tend to not pack enough stuff!

My Southern manners have given way to a more brusque approach. No more saying ‘hi’ to everyone who looks at you for more than a second, like we do in Texas. People here will just stare at you, but won't actually ackowledge your existence even if you say hi. They'll just look away. It’s a bit startling still, at times, but also relaxing as I can just go about my business and ignore people around me instead of making eye contact and saying hi to folks. I just have to remind myself to put my southern manners back on when I go home. (There's a saying, here, that if a stranger says hi to you they are either drunk, insane or an American.)

I’m more self reliant. Norway is a self service kind of country. Ain’t no one gonna do it for you.

I don’t take anything, or anyone, for granted anymore. It can all go away in a minute. Friends move, plans change, your life can change on a dime. Life is not the goal, it's the journey. STop and enjoy the journey. It's the only one you've got.

dreams

Last night I had REALLY vivid dreams. Some were nice, others? Not so nice.

Like this one where I was on a bus and the bus driver was nervous? And she kept vomiting. I mean Hurl-o-Rama. And I was sitting next to her. And once, to keep her from crashing the bus because she was driving on this very high, narrow curved bridge, I had to catch her barf in my bare hands. It was not pretty. So I googled the topic, you know, vomit in your dream? And I got this:

Vomit

Vomiting in a dream may represent those things in life that cause you emotional stress, repulse you, and make you ill. This dream suggests that you are rejecting a thought, idea, feeling, or circumstance and that fast and, almost violent, cleansing is required. Examine your daily reality and try to identify matters that would cause such a strong physical reaction. Superstition-based dream interpretations say that vomiting in a dream symbolizes reversals; so if you are short of money you may have a stroke of good luck and your financial situation may improve!

Wow. Dreams are pretty damn interesting.

Does this mean i have man hands?

I found this article relating finger length to athletic ability.....

Now, my ring finger is, indeed, substantially longer than my pointy finger. Does this mean that I have latent athletic ability that I just never did anything with? I mean, I likes me a good workout as much as the next guy...but this finger length thing is interesting.....could have been a contender? Even thought I've never really liked running and only ever do it when being chased?

I also read somewherethat having a longer second toe than a big toe means you are smart. My third toe is longer than my big toe as well, does that mean I am extra smart? Smart and fast?

Or am I just a digital freak?

good news, bad news

Good news: I am wearing a pair of jeans today that I could not get into a month ago.

Bad news: I may not be able to get back out of them.

Other news: I saw a guy on the train today who looked EXACTLY like my friend Clark in Austin. Except for the fact that he was a goth sort of metal head dude, and dyed his naturally blonde hair black, he looked just like Clark. Clark, you have a darker side doppelganger here in Oslo!

In other OTHER news: To blog trolls: This blog is moderated and policed. Thanks to the miracles of the internet and the fact there really is NO such thing as privacy.....I know who comes here, I also know what your ip address is, how you get to my blog and what your ISP is. I know where you come from. I know a hell of a lot more about you than you think. I do not hesitate to block anyone who posts negativity or personal slams against me. I do not have a problem with healthy debate, but negativity is right out. So.....
Blog trolls, you know who you are, you are not getting through, EVER, so I suggest you go elsewhere. Get a life. Get a job. I don't know....but find something productive to do with your time, ok? I appreciate the obsession, but really, you just don't matter to me and could use your energies better elsewhere. How about taking all that extra time and working for a charity? Might be time better spent. Also? I spoke with your ISP as I do have your IP address, and guess what? I can press charges with the police. I talked with the police, too. They confirmed what your ISP said. I'm keeping records......just so you know.

Stuff I was thinking

A random post...I offer no guarantees as to transitions, where my thoughts might head or what the hell I am talking about.

Mascara: I have two mascaras, both of which i love but both of which are very diffferent. One is Great Lash, that Maybelline stuff in the pink and green tube. Classic, waterproof, a little crispy on the lashes, small wand that I tend to poke in my eye by mistake, but a good solid choice.
The other one is called 'Backstage' by Dior, and I luuurve that one. The brush is HUGE and will cover your eyelashes if you even wave it in the vicinity of your face. As someone who is VERY nearsighted, mascara can get a bit tricky, what with the trying not to poke your eye out and concentrating on seeing and stuff. So I appreciate a good big mascara brush. If you are nearsighted, try this one out. Get the waterproof kind, though. I got the non waterproof and it can get leaky pretty fast, even from slightly teary eyes.

Coffee: I go to the nearby 7-11 (if someone will explain to me WHY there are 7 Narvesens and three 7-11's on every corner in every Norwegian town I would REALLY appreciate it...isn't one of each enough? I mean, there are two 7-11's and two Narvesens within 500 feet of each other right at my train station!) every morning for my coffee and bun. The guy that works there is SO nice. SO NICE. He always greets me with this eager bob of his head and a "go' morn". I luurve him too. I luurve him more than the mascara.

TV: So Rich was reading the Entertainment Weekly that we religiously subscribe to (we call it the Bible), and there was a list in there of TV that you must watch to have a perfect TV viewing week. American shows, mind you. He read out to me the shows...and 80% of them show here in Norway. Granted they are all a season late, and the TV channels here show them at really wierd random times, so that you have a hard time keeping up with when things are on...but they are almost all accounted for. I wonder how Norwegians feel, their TV being co-opted by American shows (in English, too, with Norwegian subtitles, leading, I think, to a nation of very fast readers), the shops all carrying American items, Burger King and McDonald's almost as prevalent as the 7-11's? Hey, we LOVE the TV being all American, PLUS we get BBC Prime and Food, but still, American pop culture is a total virus.........

Clothes: I wore leggings today. Yeah, leggings. 80's style, with black mary janes? I caved. They've been everywhere in the magazines, I swore I would not do it, but I caved. Now, granted, I would not be caught DEAD wearing leggings as, say, pants? Because my nearly 40 year old self knows there is nothing cute about a baggy sweater or a jacket over leggings, and honestly, it wasn't even cute in the 80's. But they are handy under a skirt when you don't want to commit to tights but want to still have something covering your legs. So I wore them under this black satin bias cut dress with a shorter, belted sweater dress over that. It was all very fitted and sort of multi-layered asian looking. With leggings. Yes, leggings. Sigh. Hey, I already bought the skinny jeans, might as well be a fashion robot and go all out. Besides, I wanted to wear the mary janes and they only ever look right to me either with leggings or white socks. Once 80's, always 80's.

I draw the line at the return of the stirrup pant though......

And I still haven't found a dress for the reunion.

Food: Tonight, out of some random boredom and desperation for something vaguely healthy for dinnner, I created the following dish:

Take some chicken breasts, drizzle with olive oil. Drag them through ground up tortilla corn chips that are seasoned with cumin, chili powder, garlic and pepper. Make sure breasts are coated in the chips a la Shake and Bake. Take a glass baking dish and dump a can of black beans in there, juice and all, sprinkle with chopped (or dried) onions. Place the chicken breasts on the bed of beans. Bake for 25 minutes to half an hour at around 375. (The oven was at 190 celsius).

Serve on a bed of rice, or spinach or salad. Yum. Sour cream makes a good garnish.

Exercise: I am sore from my workout yesterday. But good sore. I will go again tomorrow. I felt SO GOOD after my workout yesterday, I always have to remind myself how good it feels after. And what an absolute BITCH it is to make yourself go at first. But I did a good 25 minutes on the rowing machine at highest setting , and then another 15 on the elliptical, on level 7, 'glute workout'. THEN I lifted weights. I am sort of confused at how I have these totally strong stomach muscles, I can go forever on stomach exercises, yet my shoulders? Weak as a kitten. I swear, I was dying lifting 15 kilos on the shoulder killer machine. Embarrassing. A 6 year old kid could do better than me. I used to have good shoulders, I am not sure what happened.....but I wonder if I can get them back by November?

Yer My Obsession

A little while back Bookhart did a post about her obsessions. As I am sorely lacking in things to talk about and need a little structure for today's post, that seemed a good idea to follow. So, forthwith, my obsessions.

"Comfortably Numb" Scissor Sisters. That song is all over the UK and damn, me likey.

SexyBack, Justin Timberlake. He used to be my closet obsession, but I'm out of the closet now. What a great ass shaking song. And so hot. But am I the only one who just doesn't GET the video? (Actually, apparently I am not.) There's too much going on and too many people and I have NO idea what's happening. I'm thinking it's a spy something? I'm confused.

Project Runway. Can't get enough. (Note, I linked to the PR fan site as the Bravo site sucks big fat donkey dick...I hear alot of folks call it Blahvo.)

Norwegian Boller. (Quit yer sniggering.) Boller are these little buns (QUIT IT!) that you eat for breakfast or a snack. Yeast rolls, slightly sweet, with a hint of cardamom. I especially like them when they are jus a tad underbaked. Floppy, bready and oh so yummy with coffee.

My iPod. The more I use it the more I can't be without it.

On the iPod, I love Penn's podcast. That is one opinionated, but funny guy. He's charming, smart and very Libertarian, which I agree with in many ways. He's also very "keep yer religion off me, please" which I find VERY comforting in this strangely fundamentalist age we are in. I'm so TIRED of religion pitting against religion, and all of them trying to convert everyone, so Penn saying "Hey, me atheist so don't eventry it" is oh so nice. However, I will admit that I can't listen to Monkey Tuesday. Monkeys freak me out and a whole hour dedicated to them is a bit much for me. To me, all monkeys are Bad Monkeys.

Losing ten lbs in two months. Dudes, I'll tell you what, I've got the motivation now and its SO gonna happen. I've totally got abs of steel already. I'm totally stealth buff. You know what stealth buff is, don't you? It's when you are in seriously good shape, with ripped abs, and one of those dimpled butts, and those muscly arms like Madonna but you have this layer of flab over it so other people don't feel bad that you are so buff. See? Stealth buff. I've been stealth most of my life. I finnd it's easier to go stealth than to show the ripped physique to everyone. I find it slows conversation because they just can't concentrate on what they are saying. Madonna? she's not stealth. She's just buff.

Dior Capture D-30 face cream. Cuz I don't really have a problem with wrinkles (yet) but I do have some sun damage and this crap is supposed to be the magic bullet. "Out Out damn'd spot. Out I say!"

Mac Powerpoint eyeliners. I now have 7 of them. They come in lovely colors. They rock. When I left London via Heathrow they were making all the women deposit any lipsticks, eyeliners, etc, in a bin for destruction before security, because of the concerns about women's makeup blowing up airplanes. I'm all "fuck that! These things cost me 13 bucks a pop! so I sort of snuggled them through in the bottom of my purse. I mean they are wooden pencils for Crissakes, how will they find them in security and think they are other than, well, a pencil? So I took the chance, and did not turn them in and they went thru fine. Sorry, a girl's gotta have her eyeliner.
(By the way, when I left Norway? Apparently my underwire bra was a security risk as well because, dudes, I literally got FELT UP by the chick with the beepy wand. I mean, she felt every bit of my breastular area. I told her that if they outlaw underwire bras at airports they will have a woman's riot on their hands. It's bad enough they are taking our makeup away, but possible floppy breast syndrome is NOT acceptable. AND there was NO WAY in hell I would take my bra off for extra searching, if it was coming to that. Luckily, the beepy wand gal had a sense of humor and just laughed and said that no, she did not think they would make underwires illegal, for then she would be in trouble too. I really only have two rules when it comes to going through airport security: I will not bend over for ANYONE and I will not allow skin on skin contact.)

Summer. I am obsessed with the passing of summer.

Well, I knew I wasn't a lifer

I'm a Talent!

You're a risk-taker, and you follow your passions. You're determined to take on the world and succeed on your own terms. Whether in the arts, science, engineering, business, or politics, you fearlessly express your own vision of the world. You're not afraid of a fight, and you're not afraid to bet your future on your own abilities. If you find a job boring or stifling, you're already preparing your resume. You believe in doing what you love, and you're not willing to settle for an ordinary life.

Talent: 59%
Lifer: 26%
Mandarin: 49%

Take the Talent, Lifer, or Mandarin quiz.

I'm just not sure where the term "mandarin" comes from.

In other news: I didn't spill anything on me today.

In other other news: I also only had two breakfust buns and water. So there was really nothing to spill.

In other other other news: My dad sent me an email today wherein he said he was "busier than a one armed paper hanger in a windstorm".

Now...pause. Clear your brain. Envision a one armed wallpaper hanger trying to hang wallpaper, in a room through which a windstorm is blowing. C'mon, REALLY think about it.

I bet you are giggling. (Yes, I know, the poor paper hanger guy has made a very unfortunate career choice. Don't be too sensitive here, ok?)

I've been busting out in laughter all day at that image. Dad has some really colorful old Ozark sayings, and I grew up used to hearing his colorful aphorisms, but I think this is my favorite.

Things I think about on the way to work

As I walk into the train station and go up the stairs to the platform, I always wonder about this big stain on the stairs. It starts on a landing about midway, a tight sploosh of splattered stain, and then it’s like it got dragged down the stairs, spreading its stainy goo down about 12 steps. I swear, every time I gingerly avoid that dark spreading ick, I get an image in my head of a body being dragged by its feet down the stairs, the blood running out of a massive head wound and dribbling down towards the bottom as the head thumps along. EVERY TIME I go up those stairs that’s what pops into my head. This stain is seriously affecting my wellbeing.

Once I am on the train, and have my first sip of coffee (I always save it for once I get on the train and settled) I can let the image of dripping head wounds and thumping skulls dissipate. I love riding on the train, it totally makes me happy. Probably because I did not grow up with them, so for me it still has that great thrill of being foreign and European and kind of sophisticated. I always think of the old movies where the woman in the gorgeous suit and feathered hat swoops onto the train in a great woosh of steam and fog. (Though my entry into the train is nowhere near like that, I usually have wet hair and am just trying to balance coffee, purse, iPod and not trip over my skirt.) The trains here are awesome, incredibly quiet and smooth. You can’t hear them at all. And 80% of the time they are on time to the minute. I still can’t figure out how they do that.

The ride to work takes anywhere from 17 to 23 minutes, depending on the train you take and the stops it makes. It’s a nice time to listen to the iPod, go “nyah nyah” at all the folks stuck in traffic in their cars, and to just look out the windows and watch the ever changing view. The trip is just long enough that I see something new every day. An old house, a mill, an old farm. A rocky cliff or some kids jumping on the trampoline in the backyard. The variety of flowers that change weekly because summer here is so intense and concentrated. The way the trees change from day to day, they’ve already had their fresh spring sparkliness and are looking a little weathered, dusty and deep summery now, it’s been hot and quite dry.

Then the houses and hills clear, a view opens up and I have a glowing, reflective vision of the fjord and the hills beyond. At the entry to this bit of fjord is a very old sailing ship and an old settlement that has been taken over by a large home supplies warehouse. That same home supplies company has owned that piece of property for hundreds of years, starting out as timber shippers, then moving on to the modern day Home Depot style equivalent. It’s a great place to watch Norwegian history change and grow all in the space of a few hundred meters. The train, however, doesn’t know that I am contemplating the past and so does not slow for my convenience.

All too soon I am at my stop and toddle off to work. Then my thoughts are not my own anymore. I am paid to think about what they want me to think about. Luckily, we are copacetic on that and so the day progresses apace. At the end of the day, another train ride back home and my thoughts are once again my own.

Money out the Wazoo

Most of us have some sort of idea of what we would do or live like if we were super rich.

Lately, I really only have one thing that I would want.

I would have, if I was super rich, a person who's sole job would be to bring me my morning Mochachocalattayaya and something for breakfast.

Because I hate having to make the coffee or go get the coffee or whatever, and breakfast is a trial better left unfaced.

But if someone just BROUGHT it to me, that would be ok.

So there. That's what I would have if I was superrich. A breakfast coffee guy. (Ok, so if he maybe, twice a week or so, doubled as a workout trainer, that would be cool, too. But that's it, really. I don't want servants or butlers or anything. Just a breakfast coffee guy cum workout trainer. That's all.)

Random crap

1) Am I an old fart because I just...don't... get... MySpace? I mean, seriously? Am I already, like, an Old Skool Blogger...which means, of course, plain old? I just don't get MySpace. Every time I click on a link to someone's MySpace site I just get annoyed. Music and bad writing and ARG!

I also don't get all this stuff about Web 2.0. What does that mean? Are they upgrading the web? Do I need to do something here? Am I supposed to upgrade to new software or something? I mean, if there is a Web 2.0, does that mean soon we will have Car 2.0 or Karla 2.0 or TV 2.0? ? The next generation of coffee is Coffee 2.0? What does Web 2.0 mean?

2) I'm adding some stuff to my iTunes as I write this. List so far goes:

Very old Sharpe and Numan (as in Gary) stuff, sort of rare now. I'm only doing one song off it, "Change Your Mind", as I have realized that the rest of the album is SO 80's it's not even funny. I mean, 80's movie soundtrack, 80's. Oy.

Peter Gabriel, "Shaking the Tree".

The Beloved, "Conscience". It's totally the gayest music in the world where they pretend to sing to a girl but you just KNOW they aren't (almost as gay as Bronski Beat, 'member them?) but it is also a very nostalgic album for me, as every time I hear it I remember roadtrips I took through Oklahoma when I lived there. (briefly, early 90's, year and a half) I hear the music and I think of rolling hills and red dirt. It's kinda cool.

Southern Culture On the Skids. "Dirt Track Date". If Camel Walk doesn't make you shake your thang, you are just dead. Just...dead.

Toadies. "Rubberneck". Some friends of mine had a band and played with them when they were all up and coming and I hear they are great guys. The Toadies just fucking ROCK. My particular favorite is "I Burn". Woof, gives me chills, it's powerful.

Alabama 3, "Exile on Coldharbour Lane". Excellent album. I might also mention that Coldharbour Lane is an actual street in London, in the Brixton area, known for some rough trade at one time. Brixton is a very interesting area....I went and checked it out one day, great market there, and took a picture of the street sign of Coldharbour Lane in honor of Bookhart, who loves A3 muchly.

Some random other stuff, including my guilty trashy side that has one Kid Rock album (though KR is absolutely Ick Supreme, how can you not rock out to a song on his CD about a midget rapping about his 10 foot dick?), old Art of Noise, Paul Oakenfold, Gus Gus and Fat Boy Slim. I also found some old Billy Squier, remember the Stroke?

3) I'm reading a hilarious book. It's called Buddha Da by Anne Donovan and it's about a Glaswegian who becomes a Buddhist. It's written in Scottish dialect, so you'd think it would be hard to read, but it's absolutely not and it increases the humor of the book tenfold. I mean, here's the first paragraph, it sucks you right in:

"Ma Da's a nutter. Radio rental. H'd dae anythin for a laugh so he wid; went doon the shops wi a perra knickers on his heid, tellt the wifie next door we'd won the lottery and were flittin' tae Barbados, but that wis daft stuff compared tae whit he's went and done noo. He's turnt intae a Buddhist."

I wish I had a Scottish accent. I think that's the one I would like above all others. Except maybe a deep southern American one, which I can actually do quite convincingly, especially after drinking. The Scottish one, howver, escapes me, except for the phrase "If it's no Scottish it's CRRRAP!" which I do well.

Right, so now I am taking my newly refreshed iPod out and going for another walk. It's humid out there, so puffy hair, here I come!