Ozarks Antics

This is what happens when you get 6 guys together who have been friends for many years, and take them out to the Ozarks for a good ol' time. The dog gets drunk and passes out.** The dog's name, by the way, is Teufel, which means Devil in German, so maybe it's appropriate.

He's in rehab now, and from all reports, in better shape. (He's now learning to drink GOOD beer. You'd think his German roots would teach him the difference.) It's a shame that a good farm dog developed such bad habits......

**No actual German Shepherds were harmed in the making of this photo. Teufel was sleep and i just sorta wedged the UNLIT cigarette into his lips. After a hard day of chasing squirrels, chicekns and the occasional human, he really didn't even wake up until after the cig was removed. Besides, quit yer bitchin', it was a Marlboro LIGHT, ok? Sheesh.

space time continuum has me confused

OK so let's figure this out.

I left Houston at 7 pm Sunday Houston time and it was 2am in Norway. The plane was not full and so I managed to get a row to myself where I could stretch out. I slept the majority of the flight. (Bad hair? You have never seen such bad hair as I was sporting on this flight. Woof.) Didn't even see a movie or anything. Cheap plane date, me.

Got to Amsterday at noon Norway time, so that's 5 am Houston time. Caught the flight to Oslo at 2pm. Kept nodding off and waking myself up by, in turns, my head jerking, snoring or drooling on my chin. NICE. The jetset life ain't all it's cracked up to be.

Arrived in Oslo, manhandled my luggage on to the train (the luggage allowance is 70 lbs per bag, of which you get two. Big Bertha, the seriously big suitcase I use to bring back "supplies" was weighing in at a healthy 69.5 pounds. No shit...) and was home by 5pm Monday. 5 pm Norway time is 10 am Houston time. I fell asleep at 8 pm and am rather shocked to find out it's 1 pm Tuesday now, as I arise from my slumber.

Here's your algebra question: Exactly how long did I stay up with no sleep, and how long will it take me to make up that sleep? Show your answer in integers. Alternatively, for extra credit, please show the physics involved in the miraculous, gravity defying stand up routine my hair is currently performing. If X is that part sticking straight off the side of my head, and Y is the bit that so flat it's like a matted carpet, then what is the relationship of Z (the tangle from hell) to A (the furry fuzzy bit at my temple.) Discuss.

I. Need. Coffee.

The birthday that I won't soon forget

I had all these plans for my birthday. Outdoors,spirit-chasing solitude and contemplation, cool water, calmness.

Instead I got panic, nausea, a trip to the post office and embarrassment. I also got pampering and a reminder of how great my friends truly are.

To break it down:

Post office: I went to the post office to mail some supplies to myself in Norway. Stuff I couldn't fit in my suitcase. I came out of that deal $100 poorer. I just mailed cereal and shit! My GOD!

Panic: After post office, I decided to treat myself to lunch, then go to Deep Eddy Pool for a dip. I wasn't feeling very active so decided against the Enchanted Rock experience, Aunt Flo coming for her visit on my birthday and I was kind of cranky, crampy and hot. So, on my way to Shady Grove Restaurant (where I was craving a fried chicken salad with honey mustard dressing) something, um, odd happened with the car. Did I mention I am driving an Audi my brother lent me? It's an older model, with a 225,000 miles on it, thought it runs great and has great power. Anyhow, as I drove down Lamar almost to Barton Springs road, acrid, acidic SMOKE came pouring out of the dashboard. Um,...whafuck? Eek! Fire fire fire!!!!!!!

I rather hurriedly pulled into a gas station (yeah, brain wave, that, pulling into a FLAMMABLE GAS STATION when your car could be ON FIRE!) and got my purse and anything I wanted to keep out of the car, and then stood next to the gas pump flapping my hands at the attendant (it was a full service station). He was finishing up with a customer and told me he'd be with me in a minute. I'm all like "Um, my car could be, um, on fire, and um, like, what should I do and do you have water or a fire extinguisher or something?" (flap hands , wave wrists helplessly, look really dumb) but I said this in a really stupid girly voice cuz, really, how do you deal with your car shooting smoke out of most of its major orifices?

He looked at me like "huh?" and then said "Well, we don't do that sort of thing here". And I'm all "Yeah? Like I do car fires regularly myself?" (And in my head I'm thinking "And it's my goddamn birthday and I want to be in the cool water even though I do have my damn period and I'm fat and bloated and my only swimsuit is a tiny black bikini and I WANT MY SALAD WITH THE CHICKEN AND THE HONEY MUSTARD AND MY GODDAMN CAR IS ON FIRE AND DID I MENTION ITS MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY GODDAMMIT?")

He sent me down the road to his buddy at G&A or T&A or some such initials garage. THAT was fun, driving on that busy road a quarter of a mile to a garage, with acrid smelly smoke just wafting everywhere and me thinking I was gonna have to do a dive duck and roll outta the car at any second when it exploded in a Hollywood burst of oily flame. And me also thinking, "Dammit it's my birthday I shouldn't have to do this, am I going to die?, I might be 37 now but that is still too young to die in a horrid car fire and dammit this birthday SUCKS!"

Turns out the A/C shorted a fuse and caught fire, but only in a small, though very smoky way. It melted some other stuff, but from what the very nice mechanic could tell, I'd be ok, just no a/c. I repeat: No A/C, in a black leather interior car, in a Texas August. But the car runs fine, otherwise. If you see me from here on out in Texas, expect sweat, ok? (My brother feels guilty that things always break whenever I get them. He tested the car for weeks before he lent it to me, and it was fine. I trust him, he has no reason for guilt. I am evil. You know how some people kill plants? I kill cars. It's my evil gift.)

I never made it to Deep Eddy. I did get the salad, but they didn't have Honey Mustard dressing, they had Jelly Mustard, which is JUST NOT THE SAME THING AND DID I MENTION IT'S MY BIRTHDAY AND I WANT HONEY MUSTARD YOU YUTZ? And no I don't want Pesto Ranch and what do you have against the classics anyhow?

Embarrassment: After lunch I went to visit my friend Gail who owns a very cool shop called Blackmail. She is very pregnant with twins (and very ready to be done with it) and we were chatting when in walks some guy who wanted to try on a suit. She said hi to him and introduced him to me. His name was Alejandro. Nice guy, all in denim with some kick ass silver and turquoise jewelry on. I, of course, was armpit sweat soaked, with VERY bad hair, a rather odiferous pall of car smoke floating about me, and, as I found out later, a large piece of SOMETHING stuck in my front teeth. You know, my usual glamour. It was Alejandro Escovedo, the very popular Austin musician. (He's been to Norway a few times. He told me he has a sister in law in Bergen.) Why is it that I always meet the rock stars when I am doing something incredibly dorky or looking like a wad of gum on the bottom of a very old pair of sneakers? WHY WHY? When I actually do look good, no one famous is EVER around. That seems unfair.

Nausea: It's been a wierd few days, and after the car panic, and some other stuff that is going on, I am a bit on edge. Julia and Heather got some gorgeous steaks for dinner, for a nice evening of grilling and chatting, and I was really looking forward to it. Then Bookhart came over and surprised me, which was WONDERFUL. I was feeling ready to chow down. But....Julia put that steak in front of me, and I could not even look at it. It was a gorgeous New York Strip, an inch and a half thick and cooked to perfection, and for some reason the smell of it made me want to hurl. I only ever avoid food when I am stressed, and for me to avoid steak? There is something seriously up. It was horrible. Nothing in the world could make me take a bite of the meat. I had to put it in the other room. It was the wierdest thing. That steak is still in the fridge, and it's calling out to me saying "EAT ME! Eat meeeee!!!" and I just can't. What is up with that?

Even though I could not eat the steak, it was so nice to just hang with Bookhart, Lulabelle and HeHe and feel the connections with home and friends. The day started out kinda crappy, but it ended great. Really, really great. The Xanax helped.

37

Today is my 37th birthday.

I know I know, I don't look a day over 36.

I'm just glad I'm here in Texas. A birthday just doesn't feel right unless I am sweating profusely.

Rich sent me some beautiful flowers, roses in all shades of red and pink and orange, they are gorgeous. He's in Prague right now on a small holiday, drinking Kozel beer. Yeah, I'm jealous, but I'm still glad I am here.

Today I will either go to Enchanted Rock for my little spiritual reassessment trip (I used to do it every year, nothing better than climbing a giant rock with views for miles to mke you think and contemplate) or go to Deep Eddy Pool after a nice walk around Town Lake.

I will also read a book and have a mocha. Yum. Tomorrow after my outdoorsy spirit chasing, Julia and Heather will cook me a steak and we will hang out on their back porch and just shoot the shit.

Tonight my friends Oliver and Lindsay invited me over to dinner. Karla May and I went and we hung out with all the kids (Oliver and Lindsay have two and Karla May has one) and ate shrimp. They also had a really scrumptious birthday cake for me. It was a great time in their beautiful house. The kids are all so cute, like little monkeys just crawling over everything. All blonde. It felt very Norwegian!

I spent the day with Bookhart, we had lunch and saw "Wedding Crashers" which rocked. We also did some shopping. It was really nice to have some girl time with her. I miss spending time with her, and it bugs me to feel like i have to fit so much quality time into one freaking day. I think it made us both feel a little awkward. But we are good enough friends that we can say, "Dude, does this feel wierd or what?"

37......37. that seems alot older than 36. 36 was close enough to 35 that I could fake it and say I was in my early 30's. 37? Nope. Too close to 40 to fake the early thirties any more. I am now older than my mom. She's been 29 for a long time. Soon I will become my mother's grandmother. Or maybe her wacky favorite auntie.

everything and nothing

Fellow bloggers, do you go about your day composing brilliant blog entries in your head, only to completely lose them when it comes down to actual blogging? I mean, damn, I come up with some really funny stuff, in my head, that cuts to the heart of our modern times with wit and brevity and then I get here to the computer and I'm all like, "Huh huh, BOOBS. Dirty words. Butts. Huh huh, you said ASS." I'm like Beavis, but lamer cuz I'm old.

Dammit.

So I had all sorts of ironic, hip and sarcastic shit to say, but right now I can only say that it is HOT in Austin. HOT HOT HOT and HUMID. And I have forgotten what that feels like. Part of me really, really digs it, and part of me is like "GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE AND BACK TO THAT DRY COOL PLACE I FLEW IN FROM!"

Why is it that the places where I can have good, frizz free, shiny hair, are never around the people I want to see me with such hair? In Norway, my hair is perfect, the hair I dreamed of when I was growing up, shiny and not frizzed and lush. They have great water and low humidity there, and my hair LOVES it. Here in Austin, it's been Frizz Fest 2005, with me as Your Fuzzy Host. Opal Divine's has this outdoor A/C system that consists of a very fine mist of water being sprayed all over the deck seating area. Do they have ANY idea what that does to a curly girl's hair? I call it the Hair Frizzer. Go get one if you want the frizzies, I guarantee you instant success. POOF!

Well, that was definitely NOT the blog I had planned in my head yesterday. I swear, I'm like the crazy old lady who talks to herself, except it's all in my head. So I'm out shopping or at a restaurant, and think really hard, and impress myself with my brainy wit, then laugh out loud or smile, all alone, and people are just looking at me like "Oooo-kay. We will just back slooowly away and maybe she won't see us. Maybe the Crazy Frizzy RedHeaded Lady will not hurt us if we just disapear. Ready kids? RUN!"

And you poor souls have no evidence of my inner wit, because it never makes it to this space. I'm like that damn frog on the Bugs Bunny cartoons that would only sing for the one guy, and just go "Ribbit" for anyone else.

Weddings, Boobs and Hangovers

Having an actual social life is taking a serious toll on my blogging. Sorry about that. It's just so nice to interact with real live people instead of words on a screen, you know?

After the fun of meeting Badger, Karla May and Bookhart the other night (they all blogged about it, too, and thank you, Badger, for your complimentary words. You makin' me all redfaced, honey!) I took a day off the circuit and had a very early Friday night. Lemonade was the strongest drink I had all day.

So when Saturday night rolled around, I was refreshed and raring to go to my friend Margaret's wedding. My dress worked out pretty well, though I was sporting some pretty impressive cleavage, and I was honestly a little nervous whether breasts are still legal in Texas. Like, maybe Homeland Security had deemed them a threat to National Security or something, you know? You never can tell how laws are gonna change. Luckily, I was not thrown in Breast Offender's Jail, so that seems ok. Other girls were showing some yum yums, too, so I felt better. I can tell you Miss Karla May, fellow blogger, has some nice ta tas.

Margaret, the bride, looked absolutely radiant. She is so pretty anyhow, but being a bride suits her very well. Gorgeous, elegant blonde that she is. The wedding was beautiful, as I knew it would be, and the reception was great fun, with many people I knew and some new ones to meet. Most interesting was a German (well, practically Dutch, really) woman that I met, who has been here for 10 years now, and has the heartiest, most healthy laugh I have ever heard. She enjoys life to the hilt, I can tell.

The open bar was very generous, the food excellent. AFterwards we went to the Four Seasons for drinks, which may have been a bit excessive. But it was still fun.

The wages of sin are catching up to me now. (Well, that and impending Old Fartdom.) My one remaining brain cell must be nourished and cherished. When I get back to Norway, I am going off the sauce for a while. Need to detox. Sunday was a BAD HANGOVER day. Holy crap, I wanted to die. The only cure was Mexican food, and even that did not wholy cure it. It took two naps, the Shrimp Tostadas at Matt's and about 8 ibuprofens to even get me close to feeling human again. ARg.

Austin and Slippin' Into Mosey

A favorite expression of mine, picked up from some Austin friends, is the phrase "slippin' into mosey". That's when you kind of wind down from the frenetic pace of life, and well, you just start to mosey. It usually suggests a party, a nice cold beer and a mellow gathering of pals. Austin is a great place for moseyin'. I have much of it planned.

The past few days have been spent reacquainting myself with my favorite city on Earth. Lots has changed, and some things have, happily, not. I got my hair cut on Wednesday at a salon owned by a friend of one of my Norwegian friends. I can highly recomend the salon, it's called Sage. I got a great haircut and the prices are fair. The owner, Maris Stella, used to run the salon at Saks, so she knows something about good hair and pampering. I love the cut I got. If you have curly hair ask for Vanessa. In continuation of the pampering, I went today for a facial, body scrub exfoliation (orange and vanilla, I smell like candy) and a pedicure at DAYA. I'm soft as a baby's butt. Then I had my eyebrows done (OUCH!). I feel like a car that's gotten a tune up. I'm refreshed and raring to go.

Last night I went to my favorite bar, the bar at the Stephen F. Austin Intercontinental Hotel, downtown, where I met Bookhart, Karla May and Badger. I have known Karla May and Bookhart for years, but it was nice to finally meet Badger, who not only cracks my ass up every time I read her blog, but also has a really great writing style. She's totally kick ass in person, too, and she is a very talented palm reader. Her readings of our hands freaked us out, they were so right on. She's cool, I hope we can ge together more often when I come to town.
Imagine my happiness when I saw that Tiffany, my favorite bar waitress EVER is still working at the Stephen F. (I bet she pulls in some good money, that girl. She works at a law firm days.) She gives us the best service every time we go, and she's also just a really cool chick. I am so glad that she's still there, makes me feel like I still have a few of my insider tricks up my sleeve.

Tomorrow I am going to my friend Margaret's wedding, and I found a great dress at Last Call to wear to it that will cover the bruises on my legs. It's a Roberto Cavalli long full crinkle silk slip dress, in a red black and white pattern. I love it, it's floaty and gorgeous and very me. The bruises on my arms will still be evident, but I dare anyone to wear long sleeves in a Texas summer.

Today when I got home from the spas, I hung out with Julia on her back porch (I'm staying with her and Heather) and we just talked and watched a goofy squirrel sleeping on a branch, its legs splayed in total relaxation. I got a picture of it, the zoom on my new camera works pretty well. It's so great to just sit and chat with friends in the torpid Texas heat. No sweater required.

It's so nice to be back home. People I love, thunderstorms, hot weather, great shopping and food. You can take the girl out of Texas, but you can't take the Texas out of the girl.

Boys canoes and bruises

On Friday, Dad's birthday, we went on a family canoeing trip. By family, I mean, my brother and his five friends, me, Mom and Dad. We went for a 13 mile canoe ride on the Jack's Fork River. It was very long, and I, as the odd number in the group, got to ride in the boat with my parents. (Let me let you in on a little secret: I hate canoeing.

I'm like the world's biggest canoeing geek. No matter what canoe I am in, whether I am paddling, or, like yesterday, just sitting, I always end up getting tumped out and then bruised into an unrecognizable pulp. Yesterday was no different.

The boys, distributed into three canoes of two men each, had a great time splashing each other, dumping each other out of the boats, and generally causing mayhem all the way down the river. I, with my usual overly developed guilty complex, sat in the boat with my parents and felt like a dumbass that they were paddling me around. (Though I did try a brief failed experiment and tried tubing down the river on my own. That was a bad idea, as the tube was very slow and would have taken hours to get anywhere. I finally tried getting a tow from two of the guys in our group, and that just slowed THEM down, so I got back in the boat with the folks.) We still managed to get dumped about 4 times, the last one, at the very end, being kind of traumatic as we were all so tired that we really found that we were unable to get the boat aright and get out of the tangle of trees and rooots that we were stuck in. Luckily some nice bystanders (who had just been in the same trap themselves) came and helped my brother and his friend extricate us from the dilema. It was scary there for a while. By this time we had been paddling for 8 hours, and Mom was worn out. I finally took the paddle from her (risking my Dad's ire, as he is pretty authoritative when it comes to paddling and suffers no fools) and we continued on to what we hoped was the end. Luckily, the end was right there, and Mom was understandably (and humorously) miffed that she had paddled the whole way, only to see me get the glory of the finishing lap in the last five minutes.

I lost everything I brought with me on that trip, including my shirt, my sunglasses, and, oddly, the rubber band holding my hair back. I am glad I had the forethought to bring only the bare minimum, and to wear my contact lenses, as, if I had lost my glasses, I would have been seriously upset.

The boys had a great time, everyone had sore muscles the next day, and I have re-affirmed my determination not to indulge in water activities unless they include an inner tube and beer, a fully staffed sail boat, or a couple of floaties and some nice mellow waves. I might try a rowing machine again some day, but canoes are definttiely not in the cards for me anymore.

Tomorrrow I go to Ft. Worth to see some family, and thence to Austin on Tuesday.

My Mom's Kitchen

IF you like to cook, you probably know how frustrating it is to cook in someone else's kitchen. In your own kitchen, you know where everything is, you have your favorite pots, your favorite knives, and you have a smooth work routine all planned out. Here at my parents' house, I am constantly frustrated by Mom's kitchen, even though much of the stuff she has is what I grew up with. It's just, there is so much of it, and it's all packed in everywhere and it's just not what I am used to anymore, you know?

My Mom's kitchen is like a minefield for me. She has managed to fill every square inch of that kitchen with stuff, and I can't find a damn thing. Mom is one of those people who doesn't throw things away, and the fridge is completley packed. It's all stuff like heels of bread, leftover little bowls of salad, random sauces and jars and bottles and vegetables and it's all piled up so you have to take everything out just to get that one thing you need. I always dread having to find a place to put something in, or having to find something. Ever since I was a kid, the fridge has been full to the limit of fullness. It groans when you open the door. Ditto the freezer. Or shall I say, freezers. She has three full size freezers, and a spare fridge. And they are all packed. It never changes, and she grocery shops weekly, I guess to fill in the tiny litle gaps of light that appear in whatever storage container she is looking in. The shelves in her non-perishables pantry are bent and warped from the weight of cans bought in bulk. She has enough toilet paper to wipe the asses of an army. Seriously.

Basically, if ever the world goes to hell and it becomes one of those post apocalyptic scenarios, I am gonna get my ass to my parents' farm, because I can feed myself (and then wipe my butt) for years on just the stuff Mom has now.

I think it runs in the family, though. Just yesterday, over at my grandmother's house, I found a little can of mushrooms (pieces and stems) and the design on the label tells me those mushrooms are circa 1978. She bought them when she still lived in Mississippi, before my grandfather died in 1987 and she came to live with my folks. Those are some OLD mushrooms, practically a cultural relic. (I'm going to take a picture of it with my new digital camera, and see if I can post it.)(More on the camera in a later post, I'm still a little scared of it!)

I will admit that I have inherited some of that acquisitive nature. I feel nervous if I don't have a certain amount of chicken stored in the freezer, and for some reason, every time I go grocery shopping, I always buy a can of black beans and one of chopped tomatoes, resulting in a rather large collection of beans and 'maters in my own cabinets. I also have a thing for shampoos and hair products, which, as I see in my parents' bathroom, is also an inherited trait.

i'm no where near my Mom's level, yet, but I have a few years to catch up with her. Though I doubt I will ever find, as she did, a 20 year old jar of jam in the back of the fridge. Yes, when my parents moved from Houston to Missouri, Mom found 20 year old jam in the fridge. She left it behind for the new people, saying that it was tradition and came with the house. It may well be the only thing she did leave behind. The other day I found some Tylenol that expired in 1992. At least it was fresher than the jam.

Abominable Snow Karla

Gosh it's hot.

97 degrees in this little part of the Ozarks where I am. I feel like the Abominable Snowman, you know, the one that melted on the old Bugs Bunny cartoons? Gosh it's hot.

Good thing I remembered that it gets hot in the US in summer, and I packed nothing but sundresses and tank tops and skirts. One jacket, one measly jacket, and that is the only article of clothing that has long sleeves in my whole suitcase. Woohoo!!!!!! I remember what sweat feels like!

I got to take the Audi into Springfield today to pick up yet another of my brother's friends. We're importing boys for dad's birthday. Ok that sounds wrong. What I mean is, alot of my brother's freinds love hanging out with my dad, and so a few of them have come up here to celebrate the big birthday. Kit and Duy got here at 7:30 am, having driven all night! Mom's got them all packed into the other house, which was my grandmther's house. She died a couple of years ago, so now her house is the guest house. The testosterone is already pretty thick up there, good thing Mom has saved me a bedroom in the main house.

Anyhow, driving the Audi to Springfield was FUN. There is this one windy twisty road, that goes on for about 65 miles or so, nothing but twists and turns and glass smootth asphalt and fun. The curves are all perfectly banked, there are no potholes and I love to swing around the turns and careen up and down the hills like a race car driver. I dream about that road, sometimes. Missouri has the best country roads, they really keep them up well. So it was with alacrity and no small amount of glee that I volunteered to pick up Kit's friend Russell, who was flying into Springfield airport this morning. Any excuse to drive that road is ok with me. Russell, by the way, is my best friend Julia's "little" brother, whom I have known for 30 years now. Can you believe I am old enough to know ANYONE besides my parents for 30 years? But yeah, I've known Julia and her family since I was five. Eeek!

Mom and I refer to all Kit's friends as "the boys" but they are all in their mid 30's, with marriages and divorces and jobs and kids and yet, with all that, they are still my younger brother's dorky friends and that's just how they will remain, even when they are 70. The Boys. And I'll always be the big sister. Funny how that never changes.

Greetings from the US!

The past few weeks have been really tough. The move, the problems with the internet, and the fact that I was planning a trip to the US that I could not blog about because it was a secret.

Yes, I am an international spy.

NOT.

My Dad's birthday is the 5th and Mom and I decided to have some fun and fly me in to surprise him. It worked. We surprised him. Teehee.

It's been DAMNED hard to not write about it on the blog, though. I've wanted to blab for weeks. ARG! But Dad reads the blog, so I could not mention the trip. But now I can, hooray! (And I am using Dad's rather sweet new Macintosh G5. It has a HUGE screen. Unfortunately, the folks still only have dial up, which is damned slow, but this is one cool computer. Mom has her own little Mac laptop and they have the house wired for connectivity. If only they had DSL. Macintosh has the corner on coool design on computers. I might look into one for my next computer. (Dave, stop howling with glee. Seriously, now, quit it.))

I flew in to Houston on Continental on Saturday. I gotta give Continental kudos for very comfortable planes. Even though the flight was packed (I mean, overbooked packed!) I was fairly comfortable because the legroom on the flight was at least enough where I could cross my legs without having to stick them out into the aisle to do it. The flight attendants are kind of wierd, (and yes, I will always spell wierd wierd so just deal with it, ok? One of my adorable quirks.) on Continental, though. All older, and kinda cranky. One or two are nice, the rest are just barely doing what they need to do to get by. It felt as though all my elementary school teachers had been hired to manage the flight, and all the passengers were nothing but an unruly bunch of kids who needed to be kept in line and fed ice cream every few hours or so. I've noticed this on every flight with them...the flight attendants are very authoritarian...,,hmm.

My brother met me in Houston on Saturday at 6pm. My luggage did not. It got to me at 1am on Sunday night, having been left behind in Amsterdam, which was annoying as i had planned to go to Ft Worth Sunday afternoon to see my sister and brother in law on the way to Missouri to surprise Dad. As it was, I had to wait around in Houston for my luggage to get to the US and then pass through Customs. And let me tell you, American Customs SUCKS ASS. When I called to find out where my luggage was, the folks on Continental said "Well, it landed at 5:30 on Sunday, but you might not get it till tomorrow". When I asked why, they said that Customs gloms onto it and won't let go for hours. I asked if maybe we could get them to expedite my luggage, as I didn't want to be TWO days late on my travel plans, and the lady on the phone snorted and said "Hurry Customs? If I ask them to hurry your luggage, they will actually go slower. Customs Sucks." Yes, she actually said that Customs Sucks. That made me laugh.

Anyhow, they managed to get my luggage to me at 1am (and I was NOT a pretty sight when it arrived, having been awakened from a deep sleep, I think I scared the delivery guy to death). I borrowed a car from my brother and drove to Missouri on Monday, a nice smooth trip in a very nice older Audi with lots of speed and room. There is nothing I like better than a road trip. It's one of the few times where I can just totally be myself, just me and a car and some good music. I love to drive, I'm quite good at it, and the lure of the open road and a fast car is something I just can't resist. I really do think that the best part of any trip is the getting there. I loves me the road trips.

Got to Missouri right around 8pm on Monday (about 11 hours on the road) and surprised the hell out of Dad, it was great.

I'l be here for a week and then to Austin for some hanging out, some Mexican food and a wedding on the 13th. I go back to Norway on the 21st.

Things that wierd me out

Just randomness today, in the form of things that wierd my ass out.

1) People who chew tobacco.
2) Eating any food where you can see its original form. I like my meat dead, faceless and wrapped in plastic. Crustaceans, though yummy, wig me out totally. Too many legs and antennae and eyes. Someone else will have to peel the big ones for me, I really just can't touch them.
3) Padded toilet seats. Cuz you know, I spend so much time on the can, might as well get REALLY comfy. Don't want to bruise my soft dainty ass....
4) Anything touching me when I am swimming. Thus, I don't swim 'in nature' much. If I can't see the bottom, I am leary about swimming in it. The idea of seaweed or fish or something touching me, yuurrgh.
5) The way tourists coming to visit in America are treated when they get off the plane. Unbelieveable, the amount of paperwork and shit they have to put up with. American customs is SO much worse than customs in any other country I have seen.
6) Women who just don't get that tight jeans and a tight top with belly fat hanging out is NOT SEXY. Why why why????
7) With so many things being watched via security cameras, I am always afraid that I am caught somewhere on film either picking my nose, rearranging my undergarments, or doing something equally gauche. There are some security guards somewhere laughing hysterically running a loop of me yanking my thong outta my ass, I just know it.
8) Jaegermeister. I get a headache just looking at the bottle.
9) George W's voice. My skin crawls everytime I hear it.

Crapnacious

I have been a in a foul mood for days now. I have this huge sense of frustration just rising up within me, at how fucking HARD it is to get things done in this country at times. It's just amazing how much time you can spend getting nothing done.

The trials with Nextgen-fucking-tel continue. In one day we got three different answers from them. 1) We needed an updated ADSL modem, as ours did not work with the new network. 2) They turned it on, but are not sure why it's not working. 3) The backbone is still being worked on.

WHICH ONE IS IT, PEOPLE? Does your right hand know that your left hand is shoved so far up your ass it will never make it out without a crowbar and some Vaseline? And Nextgentel also has some of the WORST hold music I have ever heard. It's always the same music, in the same order, and by the time you get to the one song we call the "never ending whiny girl who is tone deaf" song, we hang up. By that time we've been on hold for at least 15 minutes, that whiny girl song is at least 15 minutes long, and it makes me want to hurt someone innocent when I hear it. We both think they play that song on purpose, so that people will hang up the phone.

Add to that the frustration I have with shopping here. I have posted about it before, my angst about shopping in Norway. I have been invited to a wedding, an evening wedding. So I need something to wear that is a little more than cocktail, but not full blown formal. And, as it is summer, and a wedding, my usual fallbacks of black or velvet just won't work. I need something floaty and summery. Preferably chiffon, longish.

ARGGGG!!!!!! Clothes here either come in three styles: casual with holes and distressing, funky after work office party casual with sequins, or bridesmaid taffeta from hell.

I want none of those. I canvassed every damn store in the Greater Oslo Area yesterday. THere is nothing tasteful, affordable, or in my size. The one dress I did find to be minimally acceptable was $850. Uh, yeah, no thanks. I have the shoes and the bag, which ROCK, but I guess I will just have to attend this wedding like the Emperor Who Had No Clothes, Just Great Shoes and a Purse. (And maybe some nice jewelry). No one will notice I have nothing to wear, with all my sparkly accessories, right? Just in case, I better start a fairly extensive shaving, buffing and moisturizing campaign. At least everyone will know exactly what my tattoos look like, and where they are.

Screaming doesn't help

The ongoing annoyance at Nextgentel continues. I thought that opening a big ol' can of Texan Evil Whoop Ass on them would help, but I think I have finally found an Evil that is Eviler than I am. Nextgentel is impervious to my curses, hexes and Evil Whinging. Damn. Minions, please, I will be calling you into battle soonest. Be prepared to do your level worst.

NOW they say they are working on the "backbone" in our area and we won't have internet for at least two weeks, though, of course, they can't give us a definite date and it could be longer or shorter than that amount of time. They just don't know, and by the way, didn't we get the letter about it? To which, I reply, no I didn't get the letter, I have called you people many times over the past week, been on hold for 40 minutes each time, and gotten a different story each time, and now you say I missed the memo. Who do I need to blow to get an answer around here? (And, boys, just so you know, by "blow" I mean "blow away" by force of my Evil Mind Splattering Tricks, not the kind of blow that your naughty little minds instantly conjure up in a whelter of images and cheesy 70's porn music.)

I find it ironic that we live in a flat that is so sophisticated that our oven speaks 16 languages, including Sami (the language of the Northern Norwegians and Swedes who take care of the reindeers), and I have yet to master how the dimmer switches work in my bathroom, and yet I can't get freaking internet. I mean, really!

Honestly, I really don't have much to write about right now. This library computer won't allow me to post some pics I took from our recent trips to Budapest and Venice. I just got back 9 rolls of film, and there are some great shots in there. My camera is a cheap one, but damn it can take good pictures. Soon I will be getting a digital camera, though, and hope that I will be able to post pictures more frequently, especially of day to day stuff and the house, my jewelry efforts, etc.

I am planning some big stuff, travel wise, but need to keep it on the Down Low for a bit, as I don't want to jinx it by it going wrong. Let's just let it suffice to say that I hope to add at least two more continents to my travel plans by year's end.

Now I am off to go for a walk. It's been rainy and cold for a week now, today is the first nice day we've had and I need to move around a bit. Later.....

Batman and beef

Hi there. It's me. Still no internet at home, still on the library comp. I have gone from anger at Nextgentel to just dull acceptance of the fact that my laptop at home has now become a very expensive, oversized beer coaster. I didn't realize how little I used it without internet. In fact, I never use it at all without internet. Maybe I'll go home and make some lists or something. I dunno. Make the computer do something other than hold my papers down on the desk.

So, to while away the time I would ordinarily be wasting online, Rich and I went and saw Batman Begins on Saturday night. There is a brand new movie theatre not 100 feet away from our flat. Sweeeet.

I liked the movie alot. Christian Bale brings a depth to the role that I found very interesting. I also loved Michael Caine as Alfred. Katie Holmes was kind of blah, she was just the token cute girl, though I admit that whole Tom Cruise thing has seriously colored the way I look at her now. They could have put any girl in her role and it would not have mattered.

What really psyched me about the movie, however, were the locations. Large parts of it were filmed at the Midland Grand St. Pancras Hotel in London, which Rich and I toured last summer. (Scroll down the page on the link for pics and story). The insane asylum was all set there. It was so cool to watch the movie and know exactly where they were in the building. And know that Rich and I are among the very few who have seen this place, as it still is under renovation and probably will be for a long time yet.

On Sunday we went to a Sunday buffet hosted by Rich's boss. It was at the Hotel Leangkollen, not far from the flat. It was a buffet and though the selection was not large, what there was was perfect. The fruits were sweet and just ripe, the salads flavorful, the desserts were heavenly, and best of all to this Texan carnivore, they had a carving station with one item and one item only: rare prime rib. It was GOOD. Served with your choice of three different kinds of taters, sauteed mushrooms, steamed broccoli and green beans, it was basic hearty food cooked with a simplicity and attention to deatil that I found quite inspiring. Food in Europe can sometimes be overdone and too fancy, but this was simple, tasty and just plain good. Yum yum. We staggered home and I fell into a beef coma. Long time since I have done that!

Screwed by Nextgentel

I am about to do a Dave-style rant. (Dave at Blogography is my ranting hero.)

GOD DAMN THE STUPID MOTHER FUCKERS AT NEXTGENTEL.

We STILL don't have internet and now they say that we may not have it for another TWO WEEKS! Or more! Stupid sack lickers say that the box they tie into for the ADSL on the edge of town is out of order and they need to find out how long it will take to get it fixed. At least that is their story now. After the half hour wait on hold, the switching around to four different technicians, and the four different stories we get, this seems to be the most common excuse. Um, you tell us this NOW after a two week wait? Like, if that box did not work, wouldnæt your other customers have let you know by now? Methinks you sucketh big donkey dicks.

I don't care WHAT the problem is. Give me an answer, offer me a solution within a definite time line, and then I will decide whether to go elsewhere for my service. You people have the WORST customer service I have ever seen, you make it impossible for us to talk to anyone and then when we DO get through, you won't give us a straight answer.

Hold on....were you trained at the George Bush School of Prevarication and Avoidance?

So here I am at the library, and yo, Habibi? You look over my shoulder at my screen ONE MORE TIME and I am ripping that turban right the fuck off your damn head, got it?

Yeah, I'm happy right now.

The flat is coming along nicely, it's almost done, though lately Rich has taken to following me around the flat and accusing me of denting the furniture and smudging the walls. When did he become the Anal House Police, and can he go find something else to do, please? Like, WHY would I go around making dinks in my own furniture? I don't remember him being this anal when we met. None of our furniture is THAT nice to begin with, and it was all pre-dented anyhow. That man needs a hobby, stat!

I want my internet baaaaaacccckkkk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A library card, a computer and an annoying strange keyboard

I'm not a very accurate typist on the best of days, Fast, yes, accurate, not so much, so imagine me using a completely strange keyboard at the library in Norway and you can imagine the fuck ups that will follow. >Plus, wierd letters keep sneaking their way into my writing, like these: Ø Å Æ

Anyhow, hello everyone, I'm back. Well, sort of. We still don't have net in the new place, but I could not STAND the silence anymore and got myself a library card and here I am using the bibrary computer. Um, library. Jeez.

It's been a very busy couple of weeks. Not even two weeks, actually, but feels like it. We are now in the new flat and it is AWESOME. We love it. It has so many windows and is so bright that even *I* have to close the curtains every so often. We've had a heat wave here, and it was mighty hot for a few days before i went to England. (And yes, I mean Texas hot, like, 90 degrees plus, and no AC and on the 5th floor, it was pretty damn hot, y'æall.)

Two days after the move in I took off and left a very miffed Rich with a shit load of boxes and no idea where his underwear was. Lesley and I went to Sussex, the South Downs and we had a wonderful time. >I finally got to see Brighton and the Brighton Pavilion, somethihng I> have always wanted to do. I spent and afternoon in Chichester, a lovely Cathedral city with a big Roman history. I also got to have a nice wander around Lewes (pronounced Lewis) and saw the Anne of Cleves House, the priory ruins, gorgeous gardens and the High Street on which many 15th century and older buildings remain. Lesley is so lucky to have grown up in a place like that. Quintessential English towns, the kind that every American dreams of. Picturesque as hell.

Lesley and I managed, also and miraculously, to get on a tour of the Harvey's Brewery in Lewes. Normally there is a three year wait (yes, three years) to get to go on the tour, but my combination of forward Texanness ("Hey, is there a tour this week?") and the fact that I used to dabble in brewing and so could talk semi-knowledgably about hops and yeast, plus my showing a little cleavage, and hey presto! we made it on to the tour that night. SWEET! The tour was better than Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, cuz it was BEER! And FREE BEER at that, as we got to hang out in the hospitality room afterwards and guzzle a few dozen half pints of ale, stout and bitter. The men (85% men on the tour) were amazed that I, a Texan woman, not only liked beer, but that I liked GOOD STRONG ENGLISH beer, and I think I single handedly made up for many of the wrongs made by George Bush, Budweiser and Coors in that one evening. (Ihave a new title and career aspiration, now. I am an International Beer Ambassador. I will create world peace one brewery at a time.) I had a quite nice time, sitting on my stool in the hospitality room, as men surrounded me and catered to my glass with great attention and dedication. (They might have been playing "get the Texan chick drunk" but whatever, I was in my element!) (Rich, I thought of you longingly the whole time.) The Master Brewer, Miles Jenner, is a 5th generation brewer, and you could just tell how much he loves his job and his life. It was truly inspiring.

I got back on Saturday night, but not before having scored the new Harry Potter at the airport on my way out. I started it on the plane, but realized I had to pace myself or I would have it finished the next day. I managed, painfully and barely, to draw out the reading of it until last night. And, wow, the ending made me cry. It was so affecting and powerful. I won't spoil it for you, if you have not read it, but Harry is pretty much all growed up now, and has a lot to face. Really great book.

That's all for now. Since the library is so close to our new flat, I can try and pop over here for updates until out internet gets switched on again, Thursday, they say.

Some stuff to remember me by

Today is moving day. I totally could not sleep last night, so here I am, up before 7am. Urgh. I'm tired. Oh well, no time to worry about that.

Here are some pics to remember me by, thought I haven't yet decided what I'm putting up. Whatever grabs my eye from my picture files I guess. Enjoy, and keep checking back for updates. I'll post when I can.

Me in Paris

Me in Paris, posted by karlakp.

This is for Badger:

Dude, the coat is totally Cavalli.* Jealous?

*Fine print: Yes it is a Roberto Cavalli, however I got it WAY on sale. Last Call is my nirvana.

Horsie in Norway

Horsie in Norway, posted by karlakp.

This is about as close to horses as i get.

roman lion at arsenale, venice

roman lion at arsenale, posted by karlakp.

me in the light, Egypt

me in thelight, posted by karlakp.

Me in a shaft of light in the temple at Edfu. It was about 110 degrees in there.

Egypt

Egypt, posted by karlakp.

Me Rich and Colleen. Yes, Rich is THAT tall.

Marrakech

Marrakech, posted by karlakp.

A street scene in the souks.

Yeuch.

George Bush is in Copenhagen.

And here I was thinking that in Scandinavia we are safe from him.

Please, make him go away. He's messing up my week.

T minus 12 hours

Well, we've got about 12 hours left in this house, give or take a few hours. The packers come in the morning, and depending on where the bed ends up, we'll be in the new place tomorrow night. I finally got the last of the (damned) floaty white curtains up, and I am proud to say I bought exactly the amount I needed. I am now an Ikea curtain hemming expert. And I have ironed more in the past two days than in all the 10 years previous to now. I have a feeling I might be ironing alot in the new place, it's actually a kind of pleasant place to do it, what with the built in ironing board and all. (Gah! Did I just say that? Holy crap! What's wrong with me? I must be nesting big time. Yagh!)

Unfortunately, the internet is not coming with us tomorrow, it will take another two weeks. I hope to find an alternate means of feeding my habit. Nontheless, it will be sporadic no matter what. Sorry about that. Don't give up on me, for I am wiley and will find a way to post.

On Sunday I am going to the UK with my friend Lesley. We will take the boat from Kristiansand to Newcastle (I think) and thence drive down to Lewes, where she is from. I'm psyched for many reasons, not least of which it will be nice to learn about a new part of England, and also, I get to leave Rich behind with the boxes. (Hey, Me, Evil, remember?) Lesley and I and her daughter Wendy will go hiking and exploring and hopefully, the gorgeous weather we are FINALLY having in Norway will also follow us there. It's 82 degrees here right now! Wow!

Up at the flat I can watch all the hot sweaty people hanging out down in the plaza. There is a big fountain there, that has become an oversized wading pool for all the kids. It's a bit strange to see naked children in the middle of a town, my American sensibilities are slightly surprised. Kids here have SO much more freedom than American kids. It's very rare for anyone to mess with a kid, and in fact, moms leave their babies out in the strollers while they go in to shop. Kids are still inviolate here, which is really nice. But do I want to be looking out at naked children in the fountain all the time? Not so much. It's a fountain, people, not a public swimming pool. I'm feeling a little bit like an old perv, with all these Nekkideis around.

OK time for more packing. I don't know why I am packing so much stuff up when the movers are supposed to, I guess it just makes me feel more in control. Well, til later, y'all.

Fourth. July.

Happy.

'k?

Now let me get back to my packing, damn you.

Full Immersion

You know that thing some parents do, when they catch their kids smoking, they make them smoke a whole pack to make them sick of cigarettes and teach them a lesson? And the kids never go near smokes again because they kind of got overwhelmed with them?

That's how I feel about floaty white curtains right now. Oh My God. I hung about 7 pairs of curtains today, which doesn't sound like much until you realize that I first had to shorten them and then hem them with the iron-on hem tape gluey stuff (my iron works nicely, I've discovered) and then put up the little hook thingies and then hang the curtains and then make sure they were right. It took FOREVER. And I am not halfway done. Those curtains are floating their little curtainy brains out, though. They look GOOD.

But I don't want to do anymore. please? Can the curtain fairy come and finish up for me?

And we have our first "new house fixer upper" to call to the management: I broke my toilet. No, I don't know how, all I know is, I pushed the button and the flusher went "crack" and now it won't flush. I've already crapped out the crapper.

Crap.

Stuff I learned today

I did my stenciling project today. Let's just say it's subtle. So subtle, in fact, that I can't FREAKING SEE WHAT I DID. Pearlescent paint does not necessarily show up so well on semi-gloss/eggshell walls. Damn hell and shit. When I've done it in the past, it's always been on flat paint, but apparently Norwegians only use the semi shiny kind, so I am hosed big time. Unless I can find a flat paint to do the stenciling in. This is getting too boring for anyone who is not a stenciling/painting geek like me, but let's just say, the stenciling project is very subtle and hardly noticeable and I am fairly annoyed at that. So lesson 1 is: Norwegians use semi-gloss paint on their walls.

While taking a brake from my futile project, I heard some laughing and clapping in the plaza below the flat. (The new place looks out over the main plaza of the town. It's totally cool, like living over a mini Piazza San Marco or something, except it's Norwegian and ALOT newer. But you know, same idea.) When I went out onto the deck to look, it was a totally white Norwegian guy dancing like Michael Jackson to "Billy Jean". To say he sucked would be putting it gently. The dude couldn't even moonwalk, for Chrissakes. But he had a big crowd around him, and they all seemed to enjoy it. This was a double lesson: 2, white guys can't moonwalk, and 3, this plaza view is going to be endlessly entertaining.

Lesson 4: Avoid the sandwiches at the bakery directly beneath the flat. Yeuch. There's better and cheaper places around the corner.

Ok, so actually that's it. I didn't learn all that much, now that I think of it. Aw screw it, I need beer.

I am not cool enough for our new flat

Seriously. I am just NOT cool enough for this place.

We met with the landlord and the housing agency reps today to get keys, etc., for the new flat. It's AMAZING. We have a whole binder which I now must read just so I can understand how the wiring for the cable/broadband/phones/intercom/evil killer laser system/missile silo/etc., works. There are buttons that pop out for the oven, and things that go "beep" on the stove and things that go "whhhiiirrrr" in the bathroom. There are controls for the outside blinds, and individual controls for heating in each room (though the heating is in the floor through water pipes?) and a pop out ironing board in the utility room (wonder what THAT is for).

There's a thingy on the door where, when someone rings downstairs, you get a video image of them standing there, so you can decide if you want to let them up or not. You can turn the doorbell on or off. (Sweet!) And we have a little infrared key thingy that we have to point at a screen and then enter a code, just to get INTO the building.

You can rearrange the phone outlets however you wish just by moving a cable in the motherboard thingy in the utility room. Ditto internet and cable. I'm kind of confused as to how that all works, as I am someone who still, to this day, thinks, "Cool! Lookee there!", when I flick a lightswitch and it comes on.

I peed in my new toilet today. Nothing new to report there, no self lifting lid or seat belts necessary. Fairly reassuring, to know that at least toilets haven't changed all that much. Though I did have to close the outside blinds using the wall buttons, which took a little bit of time to figure out. Might just get curtains. The toilet is right next to the window, I could wave to the neighbors across the way while sitting on the can. (Gives new meaning to the Python phrase, "I fart in your general direction!")

Of course, all this cool stuff means only one thing. Now that I am TRULY psyched about living there, we will get transferred. It's inevitable. I've seen it happen too many times. Someone buys a house or gets into a really sweet pad, and boom, they are gone.

Just let me be there long enough to fully understand the lightswitches, ok? That's all I ask.