Don't think for a minute that I don't love you and yearn for you. Love, Karla
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
the hard part
I always hate the last night of a visit home to Austin. (It would suck regardless because of the packing, of course.)
Don't get me wrong, I have a good life in Norway. A beautiful apartment, a great job, great friends and a husband who loves me (though he is mad at me right now about his perception of my spending while here, but I've been saving all my mad shopping for a YEAR, not to mention not having had a haircut in a year, a visit to the dentist in three, etc etc. Expats, you understand, the shopping when you go home, right? Hes just freaked at seeing the number all at once instead of dribbled in spits and spats.).
But coming home to Austin, it's, well, it's...home. It just IS. I feel comfortable. The freak factor is right where I like it. (There's a dude who rides his bike around Austin and he wears nothing but a thong. Everyone calls him Thong Guy, but nobody knows who he is. Walking around Town Lake I saw a girl wearing a t shirt that said "I heart moustache rides" and she was walking with a guy with a very large handlebar moustache. I just LOVE that sort of thing that happens here in Austin.) The grocery stores have a salsa and tortilla chip aisle, and the beer selection is huge and cheap. I can sit outside in November in a t shirt and feel perfectly comfortable. I can have BREAKFAST TACOS any time I want. People say hi just because you look at them, and everyone holds door for everybody else and men flirt with you and treat you like a lady. I can sit on my friend Julia's deck with a beer in hand and shoot the shit with someone I have known for 37 of my 42 years. These are things I do not take lightly. These are things that are a part of what makes me who I am, that make me whole.
So I am always a bit sad when I leave. The last night I usually keep to myself, take myself out to dinner (tonight was Chinese at an old favorite restaurant, Suzi's), watch tv and pack my stuff up, trying to wedge the cans of salsa verde in to the toe of the new boots, and to not crush the amazing red dress I bought while also fitting in the bulk spices I bought into the nooks and crannies among all the other stuff in the suitcase(s).
Sigh. Well, I still have another week in the US to go, I'll have Thanksgiving with my parents in Missouri and time to hang out and come down from my visit to Austin. I do that on purpose, this schedule. Austin first, then the parents, then back to Norway*. A three step process, three different lives and realities to live and experience.
*Note: I know full well that when I do move back to Texas, I will bemoan what I miss in Norway. I now have a foot in both places, straddling the Atlantic, and will be torn no matter where I live from now on.
Don't get me wrong, I have a good life in Norway. A beautiful apartment, a great job, great friends and a husband who loves me (though he is mad at me right now about his perception of my spending while here, but I've been saving all my mad shopping for a YEAR, not to mention not having had a haircut in a year, a visit to the dentist in three, etc etc. Expats, you understand, the shopping when you go home, right? Hes just freaked at seeing the number all at once instead of dribbled in spits and spats.).
But coming home to Austin, it's, well, it's...home. It just IS. I feel comfortable. The freak factor is right where I like it. (There's a dude who rides his bike around Austin and he wears nothing but a thong. Everyone calls him Thong Guy, but nobody knows who he is. Walking around Town Lake I saw a girl wearing a t shirt that said "I heart moustache rides" and she was walking with a guy with a very large handlebar moustache. I just LOVE that sort of thing that happens here in Austin.) The grocery stores have a salsa and tortilla chip aisle, and the beer selection is huge and cheap. I can sit outside in November in a t shirt and feel perfectly comfortable. I can have BREAKFAST TACOS any time I want. People say hi just because you look at them, and everyone holds door for everybody else and men flirt with you and treat you like a lady. I can sit on my friend Julia's deck with a beer in hand and shoot the shit with someone I have known for 37 of my 42 years. These are things I do not take lightly. These are things that are a part of what makes me who I am, that make me whole.
So I am always a bit sad when I leave. The last night I usually keep to myself, take myself out to dinner (tonight was Chinese at an old favorite restaurant, Suzi's), watch tv and pack my stuff up, trying to wedge the cans of salsa verde in to the toe of the new boots, and to not crush the amazing red dress I bought while also fitting in the bulk spices I bought into the nooks and crannies among all the other stuff in the suitcase(s).
Sigh. Well, I still have another week in the US to go, I'll have Thanksgiving with my parents in Missouri and time to hang out and come down from my visit to Austin. I do that on purpose, this schedule. Austin first, then the parents, then back to Norway*. A three step process, three different lives and realities to live and experience.
*Note: I know full well that when I do move back to Texas, I will bemoan what I miss in Norway. I now have a foot in both places, straddling the Atlantic, and will be torn no matter where I live from now on.
Perfect
This is the perfect red dress. Scored it at 65% off at Neiman's. I have never felt so good in a piece of clothing in my life.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
Awwww.
Look what I am missing!!
Damn. And here I am in this warm sunny weather, when I could be in the cold.....
Look what I am missing!!
Damn. And here I am in this warm sunny weather, when I could be in the cold.....
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Art
Last night went out with Bookhart to East 6th street east of 35, and went to a couple bars. First was The Good Knight, which wasn't, and then Rio Rita, which was great. Very friendly, and it felt like the Flight Path cafe back in the old days. We enjoyed that place, there were bluegrass players there practicing so we got impromptu bluegrass concert as well. I bought a piece of art......I didn't mean to, it wasn't in my plan, but I did.
I just saw it and had to have it. It is thousands and thousands of nuts, bolts, watch gears, cut up telephone wire, beads, pearls, little strange tiny toys, monopoly tokens, etc, all drilled into a board and once you look long enough you see an image of a dog's head looking to the side. It's AMAZING. I don't want to post a full picture because the impact is in the details, and a photo doesn't do it justice. I'll just post a close up of a portion of it. It was $100, and it could easily command $1000, I really think the artist (a very cool young girl) undersold herself severely.
Of course it is not exactly lightweight, so I am going to have to find a way to ship it. But I am in AWE of the amount of work that went into it, it is simply stunning, and oddly elegant in the color usage (dulled metallics) and the way it gleams. It's a wierd mix of ugly things that have created this insanely beautiful textured landscape.
I am now forever known as that crazy rich lady who bought the art at Rio Rita. (You should've seen the artist, you would've thought I had just told her she won the lottery when I said I wanted to buy it. That felt good.)
I just saw it and had to have it. It is thousands and thousands of nuts, bolts, watch gears, cut up telephone wire, beads, pearls, little strange tiny toys, monopoly tokens, etc, all drilled into a board and once you look long enough you see an image of a dog's head looking to the side. It's AMAZING. I don't want to post a full picture because the impact is in the details, and a photo doesn't do it justice. I'll just post a close up of a portion of it. It was $100, and it could easily command $1000, I really think the artist (a very cool young girl) undersold herself severely.
Of course it is not exactly lightweight, so I am going to have to find a way to ship it. But I am in AWE of the amount of work that went into it, it is simply stunning, and oddly elegant in the color usage (dulled metallics) and the way it gleams. It's a wierd mix of ugly things that have created this insanely beautiful textured landscape.
I am now forever known as that crazy rich lady who bought the art at Rio Rita. (You should've seen the artist, you would've thought I had just told her she won the lottery when I said I wanted to buy it. That felt good.)
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Random Austin
- Got a clean check up at my awesome dentist today.
- Been going to her for 15 years.
- Love her.
- She has almost the exact same name as me.
- Saw a perfect, GLORIOUS mullet today.
- Got a haircut.
- NOT a mullet.
- Went back to my natural color.
- I think.
- I mean, I haven't really seen my natural color since I was 14 or so.
- Have highlighted, lowlighted, used Sun In, or generally had some version of reddish something since 14.
- But now, I am auburn again.
- I love it.
- Went around Town Lake again.
- My favorite walk in the world.
- Then found a patch of grass in Zilker Park, laid down on it, and examined the sky.
- It was blue.
- And perfect.
- Had Chipotle for lunch.
- Can they open one in Norway, PLEASE?????
- Met my friend Bookhart for drinks and dinner in East Austin.
- Ate at the Good Knight.
- It wasn't that good, it was sort of the OK Knight.
- Odd place, they are trying to be a gastropub, but they are missing the mark.
- Then went to Rio Rita.
- LOVE.
- LOVE.
- LOVE that place.
- I bought art.
- AT Rio Rita.
- Staff art show.
- Some really talented people.
- And now I have to find a way to get it back to Norway.
- I fell in love with it on sight.
- It's the most amazingly detailed intricate thing I have ever seen.
- It cost a hundred bucks.
- It looks like a million.
- Well, at least a thousand.
- Tomorrow lunch and dinner with friends.
- And either shopping or some more sun time.
- This is a perfect week.
- Content.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Austin
Obligatory shot of Austin from Town Lake trail. Insert usual maudlin reminiscence here. Wahh!
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Howdy Y'all
Howdy from Texas. Yeeha!
My flight to Houston was smooth and very nice. I upgraded my ticket to business class with miles, and damn that is just WORTH it. So worth it. I scored a seat on the upper deck, something I have always wanted to do. I flew in a backward facing seat, which seemed odd during takeoff and landing, but other than that, I didn't even notice. They fed me about 43 little glasses of wine and some shrimpy starter and some meaty main and a really good dessert. And then I rolled out the flat bed and slept.
So I landed in Houston in good shape, but with very bad plane hair (what is UP with that?) and my brother picked me up at the airport. It was warm out, but not too warm, just nice. Soft Texas air. Lovely. We headed back to his house where my sister in law Kathy had some sushi she picked up for us all ready to go and it was yummylicious. I crashed at about 10 in their very comfy guest room and listened to a nice Texas rainfall pitter patter out side.
Next morning up, shower, and Chuck and I went to breakfast at IHOP. American food is BIG. After guzzling everything in sight ( the waitress asked me if I wanted a side of Tums or Rolaids with that, which I thought was hilarious) I took off to Austin, with a brief stop at some outlets, of course. Yesterday was a beautiful cool day, so I drove to Austin with the top down on the little Cabrio Chuck lends me and had a great time rocking out to whatever AOR music showed up on the radio. Driving in a convertible does good things for my hair....it was BIG.
Got to Austin at about 5pm. Checked in to the hotel I booked just for that night, changed clothes, and headed out to meet my friends Nick and Anne at the bar at the Stephen F. My friend Julia decided to join us, so, lucky me, I got to spend the evening with two of my oldest (as in, know for many years) friends! And it was Anne's birthday, too. I have known Julia since I was 5 and Anne since about 12. We had a crazy night, it's always a crazy night when you meet up with Nick and Anne. They are so well suited and live with such joie de vivre. After the Stephen F we went on to some other bars, and more drinks, and other bars and ate dinner and had more drinks, until finally went to a dance club, where the picture of Anne, below, was taken in the unisex bathroom. (She just posed, she wasn't actually peeing, by the way.) Oh God I laughed so hard. Anne kept screaming "Take the picture! TAKE THE PICTURE BEFORE SOMEONE COMES IN! MY ASS IS OUT!!!" But I was laughing so hard it was very difficult to take the picture......
I also discovered, sadly, that I still am a total snob about the music I will dance to, and last night was no exception. I hated the music at the club, so just couldn't dance to it. I like my music angry or house, but I don't like poppy gay bar music, which is what they were playing. Also, we were older by at least 15 years than anyone there. And I really kind of didn't give a fuck. Which was nice, because I could look around and see the place and the people with these new eyes, as oppose to how I used to look at a club, which was all "Ohmygod do I look ok, am I dancing cool enough, will they let me buy a drink with this fake ID, am I drunk yet, how long with my $20 last me....?"
I woke up this morning with way less of a hangover than I should have had. I suspect the anti inflammatories I am taking for my back had something to do with that, that and the fact that I skipped the last few drinks and just had water.
Had lunch at Matt's El Rancho with the folks from last night, plus Bookhart and her family and Julia's partner and their son. I crave the shrimp tostadas at Matt's, and they did not fail me today. After that Julia and I went to Last Call, where I was worried that I might be too hung over to shop, but nope, I was victorious with a nice charcoal grey suit by Ellen Tracy, a cashmere sweater and a pair of pleated linen trousers by Magaschioni. I will go back later this week for another trawl. Then I checked in to the little garage apartment I booked for the week, it's so cute!, and then to Target for supplies and some comfy fat pants for lounging. Oh Target....how i miss thee......
Tomorrow....a massage for my sore travel weary back.
My flight to Houston was smooth and very nice. I upgraded my ticket to business class with miles, and damn that is just WORTH it. So worth it. I scored a seat on the upper deck, something I have always wanted to do. I flew in a backward facing seat, which seemed odd during takeoff and landing, but other than that, I didn't even notice. They fed me about 43 little glasses of wine and some shrimpy starter and some meaty main and a really good dessert. And then I rolled out the flat bed and slept.
So I landed in Houston in good shape, but with very bad plane hair (what is UP with that?) and my brother picked me up at the airport. It was warm out, but not too warm, just nice. Soft Texas air. Lovely. We headed back to his house where my sister in law Kathy had some sushi she picked up for us all ready to go and it was yummylicious. I crashed at about 10 in their very comfy guest room and listened to a nice Texas rainfall pitter patter out side.
Next morning up, shower, and Chuck and I went to breakfast at IHOP. American food is BIG. After guzzling everything in sight ( the waitress asked me if I wanted a side of Tums or Rolaids with that, which I thought was hilarious) I took off to Austin, with a brief stop at some outlets, of course. Yesterday was a beautiful cool day, so I drove to Austin with the top down on the little Cabrio Chuck lends me and had a great time rocking out to whatever AOR music showed up on the radio. Driving in a convertible does good things for my hair....it was BIG.
Got to Austin at about 5pm. Checked in to the hotel I booked just for that night, changed clothes, and headed out to meet my friends Nick and Anne at the bar at the Stephen F. My friend Julia decided to join us, so, lucky me, I got to spend the evening with two of my oldest (as in, know for many years) friends! And it was Anne's birthday, too. I have known Julia since I was 5 and Anne since about 12. We had a crazy night, it's always a crazy night when you meet up with Nick and Anne. They are so well suited and live with such joie de vivre. After the Stephen F we went on to some other bars, and more drinks, and other bars and ate dinner and had more drinks, until finally went to a dance club, where the picture of Anne, below, was taken in the unisex bathroom. (She just posed, she wasn't actually peeing, by the way.) Oh God I laughed so hard. Anne kept screaming "Take the picture! TAKE THE PICTURE BEFORE SOMEONE COMES IN! MY ASS IS OUT!!!" But I was laughing so hard it was very difficult to take the picture......
I also discovered, sadly, that I still am a total snob about the music I will dance to, and last night was no exception. I hated the music at the club, so just couldn't dance to it. I like my music angry or house, but I don't like poppy gay bar music, which is what they were playing. Also, we were older by at least 15 years than anyone there. And I really kind of didn't give a fuck. Which was nice, because I could look around and see the place and the people with these new eyes, as oppose to how I used to look at a club, which was all "Ohmygod do I look ok, am I dancing cool enough, will they let me buy a drink with this fake ID, am I drunk yet, how long with my $20 last me....?"
I woke up this morning with way less of a hangover than I should have had. I suspect the anti inflammatories I am taking for my back had something to do with that, that and the fact that I skipped the last few drinks and just had water.
Had lunch at Matt's El Rancho with the folks from last night, plus Bookhart and her family and Julia's partner and their son. I crave the shrimp tostadas at Matt's, and they did not fail me today. After that Julia and I went to Last Call, where I was worried that I might be too hung over to shop, but nope, I was victorious with a nice charcoal grey suit by Ellen Tracy, a cashmere sweater and a pair of pleated linen trousers by Magaschioni. I will go back later this week for another trawl. Then I checked in to the little garage apartment I booked for the week, it's so cute!, and then to Target for supplies and some comfy fat pants for lounging. Oh Target....how i miss thee......
Tomorrow....a massage for my sore travel weary back.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
back spasms suck, or, "I've got a toomah"
Wow.
So, yeah, interesting week so far this week. Tuesday at work I had this stabbing, stitching, ripping pain in my back, on the right side, around my bra strap, that was so intense at times I couldn't breathe. I also couldn't sit for very long, it hurt too much, so I had to keep getting up and walking around. I finally gave up with the sitting, and left work, walking home to work out the kink.
Tuesday night, it got worse. The pain throbbed in waves, it would get intense and then die off, it sort of felt as if an alien was trying to escape out my right shoulder blade. Rich kept trying to make me feel better, but I am one of those people that when it hurts, leave me alone, because I am going to bite you if you come near me. Poor guy was worried with my occasional holler of agony, though.
That night I took 800 mg of ibuprofen, a muscle relaxer and then later a vicodin (left over from dental work) and luckily the vicodin worked a bit and I was able to sleep (pass out).
Next morning I took myself to the doctor at Volvat. Volvat is the private medical facility that, luckily, my company bought me a membership in. It's still more expensive than the Norwegian health care system, but I really could not sit long enough in a waiting room to get the cheaper service they offer. So, Volvat (on walk in basis) was the choice. I went, they signed me in, I took the ubiquitous number that all things in Norway entail, and, God be praised, I was in with a doc within 10 minutes. The doc poked around on my back and confirmed my suspicions: It was, indeed an alien. Not only an alien, but also a huge tumor. An alien tumor about to erupt from my back.
OK, I lie. It was muscle spasms leading to an inflammatory reaction that hurt like a motherfucker. How did I hurt myself? I don't know, actually, but I suspect it is an over-eagerness to bend like by yoga teacher, which, with my level of flexibility, is an abject lesson in stupidity. I can touch my toes, I should be satisfied with that. I will never be able to kiss my own ass.
The doctor prescribed me some anti-inflammatories and a very ass-kicking strong pain pill that makes me even loopier than vicodin does, due to it having, as I discovered, later, after drooling on myself all yesterday afternoon, twice the mg of codeine than the vicodin I already had contains. And I thought Norwegian docs didn't prescribe the strong stuff! I actually cannot ever take those pain pills outside my house, or I will forget what I left the house for, as well as where I live. Yes, I am a lightweight. I don't like being that foggy, those pills are emergency only.
However, and this is how awesome I am? I STILL managed to roast the most awesome chicken ever last night. I might be a cripple, but this Texas chick can roast a chicken!*
I felt much better today, I brought my heating pad to work with me and sat in my chair like an old lady, with heating pad and ramrod straight posture all day.
I have to get better, and the sooner the better, as I am going to Texas on Friday. Woo!
*Roasting a chicken is very hard. You put it in the oven for an hour, take it out, and eat it. It was hard hard work and my back barely survived the ordeal.**
**That was sarcasm, btw.
So, yeah, interesting week so far this week. Tuesday at work I had this stabbing, stitching, ripping pain in my back, on the right side, around my bra strap, that was so intense at times I couldn't breathe. I also couldn't sit for very long, it hurt too much, so I had to keep getting up and walking around. I finally gave up with the sitting, and left work, walking home to work out the kink.
Tuesday night, it got worse. The pain throbbed in waves, it would get intense and then die off, it sort of felt as if an alien was trying to escape out my right shoulder blade. Rich kept trying to make me feel better, but I am one of those people that when it hurts, leave me alone, because I am going to bite you if you come near me. Poor guy was worried with my occasional holler of agony, though.
That night I took 800 mg of ibuprofen, a muscle relaxer and then later a vicodin (left over from dental work) and luckily the vicodin worked a bit and I was able to sleep (pass out).
Next morning I took myself to the doctor at Volvat. Volvat is the private medical facility that, luckily, my company bought me a membership in. It's still more expensive than the Norwegian health care system, but I really could not sit long enough in a waiting room to get the cheaper service they offer. So, Volvat (on walk in basis) was the choice. I went, they signed me in, I took the ubiquitous number that all things in Norway entail, and, God be praised, I was in with a doc within 10 minutes. The doc poked around on my back and confirmed my suspicions: It was, indeed an alien. Not only an alien, but also a huge tumor. An alien tumor about to erupt from my back.
OK, I lie. It was muscle spasms leading to an inflammatory reaction that hurt like a motherfucker. How did I hurt myself? I don't know, actually, but I suspect it is an over-eagerness to bend like by yoga teacher, which, with my level of flexibility, is an abject lesson in stupidity. I can touch my toes, I should be satisfied with that. I will never be able to kiss my own ass.
The doctor prescribed me some anti-inflammatories and a very ass-kicking strong pain pill that makes me even loopier than vicodin does, due to it having, as I discovered, later, after drooling on myself all yesterday afternoon, twice the mg of codeine than the vicodin I already had contains. And I thought Norwegian docs didn't prescribe the strong stuff! I actually cannot ever take those pain pills outside my house, or I will forget what I left the house for, as well as where I live. Yes, I am a lightweight. I don't like being that foggy, those pills are emergency only.
However, and this is how awesome I am? I STILL managed to roast the most awesome chicken ever last night. I might be a cripple, but this Texas chick can roast a chicken!*
I felt much better today, I brought my heating pad to work with me and sat in my chair like an old lady, with heating pad and ramrod straight posture all day.
I have to get better, and the sooner the better, as I am going to Texas on Friday. Woo!
*Roasting a chicken is very hard. You put it in the oven for an hour, take it out, and eat it. It was hard hard work and my back barely survived the ordeal.**
**That was sarcasm, btw.
Sunday, November 07, 2010
Saturday, November 06, 2010
In which I get a break from men
Now, don't get me wrong: I love men. Love them, love them. Love them.
But.
I work with men. I live with a man. I am always continually surrounded by men. Some of my best friends are men. I work and live in a man-centric world. Men, for all their nice cozy manliness, are hard work sometimes. I feel like I am always taking care of the needs of some man or other. I have two male bosses at work (and am training up a new one). At any time I will get an email or a call or a shout out from a guy needing help with something, they need some taking care of, they need me to remember something for them (I never get that, why do *I* have to remember FOR them?), they need me to do something for them. For the husband, he wants dinner, or can't remember our address (!!!) or where the pot in the kitchen goes, or what kind of cheese I wanted him to get or what is the code to the ATM machine. Men need constant soothing, reassuring, feeding, and diplomacy. It can be EXHAUSTING to be relied upon all the time.
Which is why? It was so fucking nice to hang out with WOMEN last night.
I hosted a bachelorette party for a friend of mine. By hosted, I mean, it was at my house. My contribution to the party was thus: I bought some paper plates, cleaned the toilets, and made sure I had plenty of toilet paper on hand. Then I took a nap. At 7pm, the doorbell started ringing. The ladies arrived, bearing beautiful food they had made or bought or prepared or created. They brought things to drink. They brought games. They came in like a lovely laughing tornado of food and fun, and all I did was give them plates to put stuff on.
It was SO GREAT. It was so nice to just let other women take over, to know that for once, I didn't have to take care of stuff, that they had it all in hand, they were prepared, and I could literally let them get on with it, and it would be fine. The food was gorgeous and we somehow had a perfect mix of sweet, savory, snacky, and everything, so nothing was missing. I don't think they planned who would bring what, either, but it sure worked! It was the best, most refreshing thing that has happened to me in a long time. And it wasn't even MY party (it was Elaina's) but it felt so great to let it all happen around me and I could participate instead of control. Some girls brought games, and then ran a series of entertainments that was equally fun and funny. It was silly, good natured and sweet, all at once.
I don't think men realize how much they rely on women. I don't think women realize how much we let men rely on us. All I do know is that I could feel the difference between the world of men and the company of women, and it felt really, really nice to let some responsibility and worry roll off my shoulders for an evening and let the amazing power of women carry me along.
Thanks ladies, it was a great night.
But.
I work with men. I live with a man. I am always continually surrounded by men. Some of my best friends are men. I work and live in a man-centric world. Men, for all their nice cozy manliness, are hard work sometimes. I feel like I am always taking care of the needs of some man or other. I have two male bosses at work (and am training up a new one). At any time I will get an email or a call or a shout out from a guy needing help with something, they need some taking care of, they need me to remember something for them (I never get that, why do *I* have to remember FOR them?), they need me to do something for them. For the husband, he wants dinner, or can't remember our address (!!!) or where the pot in the kitchen goes, or what kind of cheese I wanted him to get or what is the code to the ATM machine. Men need constant soothing, reassuring, feeding, and diplomacy. It can be EXHAUSTING to be relied upon all the time.
Which is why? It was so fucking nice to hang out with WOMEN last night.
I hosted a bachelorette party for a friend of mine. By hosted, I mean, it was at my house. My contribution to the party was thus: I bought some paper plates, cleaned the toilets, and made sure I had plenty of toilet paper on hand. Then I took a nap. At 7pm, the doorbell started ringing. The ladies arrived, bearing beautiful food they had made or bought or prepared or created. They brought things to drink. They brought games. They came in like a lovely laughing tornado of food and fun, and all I did was give them plates to put stuff on.
It was SO GREAT. It was so nice to just let other women take over, to know that for once, I didn't have to take care of stuff, that they had it all in hand, they were prepared, and I could literally let them get on with it, and it would be fine. The food was gorgeous and we somehow had a perfect mix of sweet, savory, snacky, and everything, so nothing was missing. I don't think they planned who would bring what, either, but it sure worked! It was the best, most refreshing thing that has happened to me in a long time. And it wasn't even MY party (it was Elaina's) but it felt so great to let it all happen around me and I could participate instead of control. Some girls brought games, and then ran a series of entertainments that was equally fun and funny. It was silly, good natured and sweet, all at once.
I don't think men realize how much they rely on women. I don't think women realize how much we let men rely on us. All I do know is that I could feel the difference between the world of men and the company of women, and it felt really, really nice to let some responsibility and worry roll off my shoulders for an evening and let the amazing power of women carry me along.
Thanks ladies, it was a great night.
Friday, November 05, 2010
Thursday, November 04, 2010
today made my hair stand on end...
Well, today started by my getting stuck in my apartment.
They are renovating the stairwell in our apartment, and it is absolute chaos. They have to chip the old plaster off the walls (it's plaster right on brick) and then sand it and replaster. The amount of dust and mess this is creating is ASTOUNDING. AND, when they are working, they set up a scaffold on the stairs that you can barely squeeze by, and even then, you are rubbing up against it (and thus all the plaster and wet dust and so on.) It's awful, it's noisy and it's messy as all get out. And, to top it off, the guys doing the work? SO NOT FRIENDLY.
So, today, I sashay (shauntay) out my apartment, dressed in head to toe black, looking rather nice, I thought. It was as I stepped onto the threshold of my flat that I realized....there is no way for me to get downstairs. No way to get downstairs without being covered head to toe in dust and plaster and goo. All of it WHITE. On my nice sassy black dress (full skirted dress, mind you.)
Fuck. I stood there trying to assess the scene, and the work dudes just stood there, like lumps, didn't offer to move any of their shit aside, didn't offer to help me down (common courtesy, one would think), didn't stop the messy splashing of plaster they were doing, didn't even move the huge honking pile of shit off the stairwell that was not only an obstruction but actually dangerous as well. I stood, they stared, aaaand...impasse.
"I picked the wrong day to wear black", I quipped. (crickets)
Oh...kaaay.
"I'll just take the back stairs", I said, after the pregnant and very uncomfortable pause of them doing fucking nothing to help me whatsoever though their mess.
So, I went to the back door of our apartment, only to find that, while I can very securely lock the door from the inside, I can't actually lock it from the outside. Key. Fits in lock. Doesn't turn. Won't lock. FUCK! So my choices were: leave apartment unlocked and unarmed (yeah, that's a big hell no) or get filthy going downstairs.
I called in to work to say I'd be late.
So, I don't know about you, but when I have on the perfect outfit (and it was perfect for my mood for the day) the idea of changing said perfect outfit is nothing less than crazy making. What does one wear, I ask, that somehow will look ok for work, but also allow you to possibly get covered in plaster and dust and shit at the same time? And also, will make you feel as good as the outfit you were just wearing and are now forced to change out of?
Well, as I found out, there is no such outfit, so I just changed into a cardigan, tweed jacket and jeans and rubbed my way out of the building, pissed off, harried, flustered and late.
I got to work to find surprises on my desk: a pair of earrings as a thank you gift for a dinner the previous week, and a beautiful pink rose, wrapped in cellophane with a ribbon around it.
The rose had no card. No identifying anything. Nothing. Just a beautiful flower on my desk.
I still have no idea who its from. I asked all my friends at work, anyone I might have done a favor for, anyone who might want to mess with me, anyone who I have spent time with or ever hung out with. Nope, nada, no one. And no one saw anyone come in with a rose, and no one saw anyone leave it.
A total and complete mystery.
Which I really rather love? But am also totally flummoxed by.
What's entertaining is all the girls are like "Ooo, secret admirer!" (I wish) and all the guys are like "Who's fucking with you?" (more likely). I'm thinking it is a thank you for something I did, which I am not sure what I did, but thank you for thanking me, whoever you are. It's beautiful and smells wonderful.
They are renovating the stairwell in our apartment, and it is absolute chaos. They have to chip the old plaster off the walls (it's plaster right on brick) and then sand it and replaster. The amount of dust and mess this is creating is ASTOUNDING. AND, when they are working, they set up a scaffold on the stairs that you can barely squeeze by, and even then, you are rubbing up against it (and thus all the plaster and wet dust and so on.) It's awful, it's noisy and it's messy as all get out. And, to top it off, the guys doing the work? SO NOT FRIENDLY.
So, today, I sashay (shauntay) out my apartment, dressed in head to toe black, looking rather nice, I thought. It was as I stepped onto the threshold of my flat that I realized....there is no way for me to get downstairs. No way to get downstairs without being covered head to toe in dust and plaster and goo. All of it WHITE. On my nice sassy black dress (full skirted dress, mind you.)
Fuck. I stood there trying to assess the scene, and the work dudes just stood there, like lumps, didn't offer to move any of their shit aside, didn't offer to help me down (common courtesy, one would think), didn't stop the messy splashing of plaster they were doing, didn't even move the huge honking pile of shit off the stairwell that was not only an obstruction but actually dangerous as well. I stood, they stared, aaaand...impasse.
"I picked the wrong day to wear black", I quipped. (crickets)
Oh...kaaay.
"I'll just take the back stairs", I said, after the pregnant and very uncomfortable pause of them doing fucking nothing to help me whatsoever though their mess.
So, I went to the back door of our apartment, only to find that, while I can very securely lock the door from the inside, I can't actually lock it from the outside. Key. Fits in lock. Doesn't turn. Won't lock. FUCK! So my choices were: leave apartment unlocked and unarmed (yeah, that's a big hell no) or get filthy going downstairs.
I called in to work to say I'd be late.
So, I don't know about you, but when I have on the perfect outfit (and it was perfect for my mood for the day) the idea of changing said perfect outfit is nothing less than crazy making. What does one wear, I ask, that somehow will look ok for work, but also allow you to possibly get covered in plaster and dust and shit at the same time? And also, will make you feel as good as the outfit you were just wearing and are now forced to change out of?
Well, as I found out, there is no such outfit, so I just changed into a cardigan, tweed jacket and jeans and rubbed my way out of the building, pissed off, harried, flustered and late.
I got to work to find surprises on my desk: a pair of earrings as a thank you gift for a dinner the previous week, and a beautiful pink rose, wrapped in cellophane with a ribbon around it.
The rose had no card. No identifying anything. Nothing. Just a beautiful flower on my desk.
I still have no idea who its from. I asked all my friends at work, anyone I might have done a favor for, anyone who might want to mess with me, anyone who I have spent time with or ever hung out with. Nope, nada, no one. And no one saw anyone come in with a rose, and no one saw anyone leave it.
A total and complete mystery.
Which I really rather love? But am also totally flummoxed by.
What's entertaining is all the girls are like "Ooo, secret admirer!" (I wish) and all the guys are like "Who's fucking with you?" (more likely). I'm thinking it is a thank you for something I did, which I am not sure what I did, but thank you for thanking me, whoever you are. It's beautiful and smells wonderful.
Mystery flower
Someone left the most beautiful rose on my desk at work today....but who?????
A mystery that is driving me nuts!
Sunday, October 31, 2010
readjusting my brain
One of the things I have been missing in our 'new' (now over a year) apartment has been proximity to nature. In our old place, a few minutes walk, and I was in fields, and a few more minutes and I was out by the Semsvannet, a beautiful lake with ancient farms and fields and meadows all around, and cows with cowbells around their necks melodiously ambling about. I always enjoyed going out there and wandering about on the trails, at any time of year, but especially on crisp fall days like today.
Today is a beautiful day, it's in the mid 40's (9c) out so not too cold, and with the sun out it's fine in just a long sleeved t shirt, really. So I got off my lazy, finally-recuperated-from-the-tequila-hangover ass, and went for a walk. I wandered over to Bygdøy, an 'island' (really a peninsula) right up the road from our flat.
Bygdøy has some pretty historical shit to boast of. There's the royal family's farm, and there's a little palace (Oscars Hall) and there is the Norsk Folk Museum and there's the Vikingskipshuset (Viking ship museum) and paths through woods and cows and horses ambling. There's farms and meadows and trees and grand old houses and what looked to me like burial mounds (but could be just big piles of rocks from previous farmers clearing fields) and everywhere, just everywhere are paths beckoning you to follow them on another walk, another discovery, and another new ramble.
In reality, all my kvetching aside, it's very similar to what I miss from the Semsvannet, actually. Pretty much the same walking distance away, trails to interesting places, some history to boot. Makes me miss our previous place just a little bit less. I'm kind of glad I figured that out, sometimes I really miss the old apartment and that neighborhood it was in.
One thing I enjoy doing on walks is playing a little bit with the Norwegian penchant for staring at anything that is slightly out of the ordinary. My little enjoyment for today was, at one point, I just stopped walking, suddenly, and stared into the distance. I actually stopped because I noticed the view into the hills at Holmenkollen, how lovely it was, from a perspective at the top of a meadow, looking down over a little bit of the fjord, then across and up and over the western side of Oslo with the way the light played and the clouds on the horizon....so I stopped to look. Then I noticed that other people were stopping and looking, too, as if I was seeing something they needed to see, or they were curious what I saw, or whatever. And that cracked me up, so I sort of upped the ante a bit, shading my eyes with my hands, looking into the distance with concentration....and then giggling to myself when people would stop, look at me, then look into the distance to see what they could see, too.
At which point, I just briskly walked off and carried on with my rambles, leaving them to look a bit stupid as they then hurriedly carried on themselves.
Heh.
Today is a beautiful day, it's in the mid 40's (9c) out so not too cold, and with the sun out it's fine in just a long sleeved t shirt, really. So I got off my lazy, finally-recuperated-from-the-tequila-hangover ass, and went for a walk. I wandered over to Bygdøy, an 'island' (really a peninsula) right up the road from our flat.
Bygdøy has some pretty historical shit to boast of. There's the royal family's farm, and there's a little palace (Oscars Hall) and there is the Norsk Folk Museum and there's the Vikingskipshuset (Viking ship museum) and paths through woods and cows and horses ambling. There's farms and meadows and trees and grand old houses and what looked to me like burial mounds (but could be just big piles of rocks from previous farmers clearing fields) and everywhere, just everywhere are paths beckoning you to follow them on another walk, another discovery, and another new ramble.
In reality, all my kvetching aside, it's very similar to what I miss from the Semsvannet, actually. Pretty much the same walking distance away, trails to interesting places, some history to boot. Makes me miss our previous place just a little bit less. I'm kind of glad I figured that out, sometimes I really miss the old apartment and that neighborhood it was in.
One thing I enjoy doing on walks is playing a little bit with the Norwegian penchant for staring at anything that is slightly out of the ordinary. My little enjoyment for today was, at one point, I just stopped walking, suddenly, and stared into the distance. I actually stopped because I noticed the view into the hills at Holmenkollen, how lovely it was, from a perspective at the top of a meadow, looking down over a little bit of the fjord, then across and up and over the western side of Oslo with the way the light played and the clouds on the horizon....so I stopped to look. Then I noticed that other people were stopping and looking, too, as if I was seeing something they needed to see, or they were curious what I saw, or whatever. And that cracked me up, so I sort of upped the ante a bit, shading my eyes with my hands, looking into the distance with concentration....and then giggling to myself when people would stop, look at me, then look into the distance to see what they could see, too.
At which point, I just briskly walked off and carried on with my rambles, leaving them to look a bit stupid as they then hurriedly carried on themselves.
Heh.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
hostess
I used to have parties ALL THE TIME.
When I lived in Austin? My little house? Perfect little party house. Big deck out back (that I built), good party flow in the house, good location quite central, so that people naturally gravitated to Casa Karla. I had parties monthly, pretty much, and the cops only got called a very few times.
I am out of party practice now, but am hosting two events in the next two weeks.
Friday I'm doing a dinner for a boss of mine who is moving, he and I have become pretty good friends over the past few years, so I wanted to do something special for him and his wife before they go. Hence, Mexican Fiesta Evening. I'm gonna whip up some garmaritas and quesadillas, gonna play the rock music, and have invited a few folks over for a good ol' Texas style party. I will do a seated casual dinner for 10, which is a challenge as it seems all my dinner sets (plates, utensils, glasses, etc) stretch to 8 as the most for any particular set, so now I have to figure out some creative mix and match table settings. Not to mention I actually only have 6 dining room chairs, so will pull in the extra chairs de la casa as well. However, I figure, once I hand over the margaritas upon entry to the house, people won't notice any lack of matching plates or silverware....
The next Friday I am hosting a hen party for approximately 15 ladies. Oddly enough that will be easier than a sit down for 10. Girls are easy. Chocolate, champagne, have plenty of toilet paper and clean bathrooms on hand, and boom, there's yer party......
When I lived in Austin? My little house? Perfect little party house. Big deck out back (that I built), good party flow in the house, good location quite central, so that people naturally gravitated to Casa Karla. I had parties monthly, pretty much, and the cops only got called a very few times.
I am out of party practice now, but am hosting two events in the next two weeks.
Friday I'm doing a dinner for a boss of mine who is moving, he and I have become pretty good friends over the past few years, so I wanted to do something special for him and his wife before they go. Hence, Mexican Fiesta Evening. I'm gonna whip up some garmaritas and quesadillas, gonna play the rock music, and have invited a few folks over for a good ol' Texas style party. I will do a seated casual dinner for 10, which is a challenge as it seems all my dinner sets (plates, utensils, glasses, etc) stretch to 8 as the most for any particular set, so now I have to figure out some creative mix and match table settings. Not to mention I actually only have 6 dining room chairs, so will pull in the extra chairs de la casa as well. However, I figure, once I hand over the margaritas upon entry to the house, people won't notice any lack of matching plates or silverware....
The next Friday I am hosting a hen party for approximately 15 ladies. Oddly enough that will be easier than a sit down for 10. Girls are easy. Chocolate, champagne, have plenty of toilet paper and clean bathrooms on hand, and boom, there's yer party......
Friday, October 22, 2010
Thoughts at dinner
At dinner with friends. I'm thinking something interesting, though I forgot what.
Rant, but you might not understand
It's hard to rant when you can't go into details. But I'm gonna rant because rant I must.
1) I've been working REALLY hard on a project at work, a very sensitive topic, for which I feel sort of responsible for making sure that communication is key. In fact, I have been so gung ho on making sure that people feel informed and comfortable, that I am probably annoying my boss. So today, when we got an email from some people who should know better that is questioning our information flow and practices, I must say, I got a bit annoyed. Have you READ the stuff I sent you? The stuff I've posted online? Have you attended the meetings we've set? Have you come to ASK me? No? Then how dare you say that we haven't informed you, when you haven't bothered to take advantage of the many avenues of information I have provided for you???? Seriously?
2) I've been needing a glass of wine since 9:30 this morning, pretty much from the point I left the US Embassy. Oh that place is meant to make people angry. They take away your phone, your ipod, your everything, and then sit you in an ugly ass room where the only entertainment is a tv playing a US propaganda video over and over and over. (You know...uplifting music, some America the Beautiful footage, Happy Americans of All Colors Waving Happily, the flag flying Happily in the background, purple mountains being Happily majestic, all that crap.)
Jesus, people at least play some CNN or something! The poor fuckers sitting in that waiting room had this stunned desperate look on their faces, like, "Wow, this sucks, this sucks ASS, I'm bored and about to go nuts, but I can't say anything (can't even TWITTER because they took my phone away!) because they won't let me get a visa to go into their country to see the Happy Americans Waving Happily and the purple mountains majesty". Most of the people there were young Norwegians trying to get study visas. Poor kids. I think while we were there for a half hour, they got to number 3 on the 'take a number' list. They were stuck there for a LOOONG time.
As an American visiting the Embassy:
3) I thought we'd be getting a refund from Norway for taxes, but just found out we owe. Will we never get a refund????? How much can one household pay in taxes? (Ok, trying to get my Liberal mojo back. Taxes are nice, taxes are your friend.)(yeah, that never works.)
3) I'm supposed to go out tonight and now I have lost all my mojo for it. There's a story behind that, too, which I won't go into.
I should probably just stay home, shouldn't I?
1) I've been working REALLY hard on a project at work, a very sensitive topic, for which I feel sort of responsible for making sure that communication is key. In fact, I have been so gung ho on making sure that people feel informed and comfortable, that I am probably annoying my boss. So today, when we got an email from some people who should know better that is questioning our information flow and practices, I must say, I got a bit annoyed. Have you READ the stuff I sent you? The stuff I've posted online? Have you attended the meetings we've set? Have you come to ASK me? No? Then how dare you say that we haven't informed you, when you haven't bothered to take advantage of the many avenues of information I have provided for you???? Seriously?
2) I've been needing a glass of wine since 9:30 this morning, pretty much from the point I left the US Embassy. Oh that place is meant to make people angry. They take away your phone, your ipod, your everything, and then sit you in an ugly ass room where the only entertainment is a tv playing a US propaganda video over and over and over. (You know...uplifting music, some America the Beautiful footage, Happy Americans of All Colors Waving Happily, the flag flying Happily in the background, purple mountains being Happily majestic, all that crap.)
Jesus, people at least play some CNN or something! The poor fuckers sitting in that waiting room had this stunned desperate look on their faces, like, "Wow, this sucks, this sucks ASS, I'm bored and about to go nuts, but I can't say anything (can't even TWITTER because they took my phone away!) because they won't let me get a visa to go into their country to see the Happy Americans Waving Happily and the purple mountains majesty". Most of the people there were young Norwegians trying to get study visas. Poor kids. I think while we were there for a half hour, they got to number 3 on the 'take a number' list. They were stuck there for a LOOONG time.
As an American visiting the Embassy:
- you have to have an appointment,
- which you made online,
- which entitles you to then go the Embassy
- (only between 9-11 on certain days),
- line up outside and wait for security
- get searched and
- have your phone taken away,
- then go in
- and watch the Happy Waving American Purple Mountains Majesty video
- while occasionally hollering through a thick bullet proof glass window at a bureaucrat who says your passport name doesn't match the stuff you want signed
- and why are you a terrorist and are so unAmerican as to live OUTSIDE America?
- (which is crap and you have exactly 23 other forms of ID to prove that you are who you say you are),
- while everyone in the waiting room (which you are in, too) can hear every word you say because you are HOLLERING through 3 inches of window
- and they are all staring at you
- because what the fuck ELSE have they got to look at besides the Happily Waving Americans video?
- and then this junior bureaucrat must ask someone Official to Make A Decision,
- which they eventually do because you prostrate yourself before the God of America (aka the Embassy Guy)
- and I even had to swear with my right hand up and everything
- which everyone waiting REALLY enjoys watching, hey, look, a swearing American!
- and then you get to pay them an EXORBITANT amount of money to do something (notarize) which you can get free at any local local bank back home.
3) I thought we'd be getting a refund from Norway for taxes, but just found out we owe. Will we never get a refund????? How much can one household pay in taxes? (Ok, trying to get my Liberal mojo back. Taxes are nice, taxes are your friend.)(yeah, that never works.)
3) I'm supposed to go out tonight and now I have lost all my mojo for it. There's a story behind that, too, which I won't go into.
I should probably just stay home, shouldn't I?
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Turdhenge
This just made me giggle. 2 tiny dog turds on the sidewalk as I walked to work. One was standing like a little pillar of poo. Yes, strange things make me laugh.
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