WHAT kind of tandoori?

Image027.jpg, originally uploaded by karlakp.

I've been wanting to blog about this FOREVER. This restaurant is in a town near us and I finally FINALLY got a picture of the sign. It's actually called "Nagina" but it's very easy to change the sign to a "v" (which it always is changed, I've never seen it without someone "fixing" it) with predictably hilarious results.

I giggle like Beavis and Butthead everytime I go by.

The question is: eat in or eat out?

Lars* the Viking Massage God

As you might know, my back has been causing me problems lately. It basically feels like it's sort of stuck right in the area between my shoulder blades. Like If I just bend backwards enough it will pop or loosen up or something. But it never does and I can never stretch...it...just....right.

So I made an appointment to go to a chiropractic massage guy recommended by a few friends. Guy friends.

Thus, none of them mentioned that he is a Viking God. They merely offhandedly said he was a "big guy". Uh, ya think?

He's like 8 feet tall and completely muscle bound. Like, Conan the Barbarian muscle bound. Ahnuld muscle bound. Mr. Universe muscle bound. I almost laughed when I met him because he's just SO BIG. First thought was "Can he hurt me?" followed by second thought, "Did I wear decent underwear?" I mean, not that I was attracted or anything, but when one is presented with a God that is about to pummel you into submission, you hope you are wearing decent knickers as a sign of respect. Like brushing your teeth before you go to the dentist.

I slightly nervously followed him into his very tiny and minimal Viking God Lair where he told me to lay face down on the table (left the room to give me privacy to get my shirt off, which I appreciated as some massage people here DON'T do that and I feel a bit awkward undressing in front of someone, you know? especially a God?) and then came back in and proceeded to mash me into a little squashy pulp.

Which is EXACTLY what I want in a massage. No scented stuff, no music, no breathing or sound effects, no fancy sheets or special massage beds, no reiki, crystals or any new agey shit....... just a good muscle relaxing rubdown with a little pain and some serious sore spot poking. At one point he used his elbows to just press into the painful spots, and yeah, it hurt, but it also felt WONDERFUL. (I did joke at one point that maybe I could get a smaller bra size what with all the smashing and pressing on the back that was having an effect on the front. I've got two mashed frontal portions right about now...talk about compression!)

Anyhow, that was the most successful half hour of massage I think I have ever had, besides this guy named Tony in Austin who's AMAZING and the tiny little girl in Thailand who made me her bitch.

*Not his real name. I think.

Blue Norther

Looks like a cold front is movin' into the Austin area.

Oh how I love those Texas Blue Northers. When you can feel the weather change in an hour from hot and muggy to crisp and breezy. Makes me emotional, a bit, to think about it and how I hate to miss one. The feel of change and power and restlessness that comes on the breeze. I always felt like I could hear the trees breathing a sigh of relief as heat left and the cool came in.

It's just cold and wet and grey here in Norway right now. We don't get blue northers here, though we occasionally get windy days and days where rain sweeps through intermittently on changeable skies, making for a very unpredictable day of weather.

There is snow in the forecast for later this week, mixed with rain, but it won't be cold enough for it to stick. Just be slushy and dreary. Sigh.

You Austinites enjoy your Blue Norther. Go for a walk for me, 'k?

Results of going to the pub after a week of not drinking

Oy vey.

I went to the pub last night and had some beers. After a week of low carb and no beer, those first two beers (they have a special Oktoberfest on tap this month, a lovely dark malty something or other) went down like manna from heaven. I was moaning they were so good. Mmm...beeer. I also had a wonderful meal, the dagen's rett was some yummy meat something with a creamy mushroom sauce and POTATOES and it went down a treat. We all used our fingers to get the last bit of sauce off the plate. (Well, some did.) (Not me, of course.) Then I had more beers.

After that it gets a bit sketchy.

I remember grabbing my friend Graham's tongue when he stuck it out at me. (THAT, by the way, was a big mistake. You really can't wash the feel of your friend's tongue off your fingers fast enough, no matter how much soapy scrubbing you do, fyi.)

There was yet another discussion about penises (usual Friday fare), and then some discussion of bra sizes and their similarity to battery sizes, both of which make no sense. (Like, for instance, if a DD bra is bigger than a D, wouldn't it then be logical to think that an AA bra is larger than an A? But no, AA is SMALLER. This also works for batteries. And why even HAVE a DD bra when you could just move straight on to E. Why EE when you could just go easy on the letters and use F? And why is there no CC or BB bra size? And why does this carry over to batteries, ie, there is a AA size and an A (but strangely no B battery size) a C battery and a D battery? Anyone? Anyone?)

It is very interesting comparing boobs and batteries with a bunch of male engineers. Their logical way of thinking (I mean..bras and batteries as a comparison? What woman would EVER think of that?) always makes me look at things in a new (and admittedly twisted) light. I love pub nights.

At some point in the evening someone told me my hair smelled good so I started walking up to everyone I knew saying "Smell my hair" and shoving the top of my head at their faces. I have a feeling that might have been fairly alarming for the one I was aiming at, as they risked getting head butted by a fairly wobbly Karla. I hope I didn't crack any noses with my large good smelling cranium.

After my fourth (or maybe 5th I am not so sure) beer I weaved my way over to Rich to tell him I "wash goin' home" and he said he would be home right after me, he just wanted to finish his beer. Cool. So me and my new cool boots (bought on sale yesterday and with a bit of heel and very unlike me, so I felt all like Sexy Shoe Girl all night) wobbled our slow way home. (I have to walk slow and slinky in heels or I fall over. It certainly gets me attention, but I am not actually asking for it, I am just trying not to land flat on my face.) I got home by about 11:30 and collapsed into bed, wondering where the hubby was. Fell asleep immediately and was awakened at 1:30 by Rich flopping into bed next to me. He must have nursed that last beer for two hours!

Feel pretty good this morning after waking to my cell phone beeping from Grant texting us at 8:45 AM (Grant you will pay for this) replying to texts from last night. He didn't show up at the pub, having mysteriously gone "shopping in Oslo" which I am, of course, going to query him intensely about. I made a big ol' mess of bacon and eggs for brekkie, yes, it's back to Low Carb again. Sigh.

And you people think *I* get to go interesting places?

I just got an email from my stepmotherinlaw saying that she is going to Borneo tomorrow.

BORNEO.

I don't even know where Borneo IS and I think it's one of those places like in the old cartoons with the headhunters and the people with the bones through their lips and shit.

Borneo fachrissakes!

I would want to compete with her in the country collecting competition but she has got me SO beat. She's THE most adventurous person I know. I'll never catch up.

Borneo. DAYUM.

amazing art on a grave

amazing art on a grave, originally uploaded by karlakp.

Isn't this the most elegant grave statue ever?

Friday?

Is it Friday yet?

I 've done exceedingly well on the low carbs thing until last night, when I broke down and had a bowl of cheerios. I couldn't help it. I've been absolutely STARVING all week. Teeth gnashing, stomach growling, steal boller from babies INSATIABLE. Couldn't figure out WHY as I really have been eating enough and quite healthily too.

Then I realized it's my hungry week. Girls, you know what I mean. There's grumpy week, tired week, fat week and for me, hungry week. Luckily I also have one good week a month as well, but hungry week when you are on a low carb diet and all you can think about is carbs pretty much SUCKS. I dream of donuts.

So I gave in and had the damned Cheerios (ok OK and one small piece of chocolate. JUST ONE.) And I'll be damned if for the first time this week I didn't go to bed hungry. Turns out I really needed those carbs.

I think hungry week is almost over, but I am still PIGGING OUT on Friday.

just how I roll, 'yo

I decided that I haven't been drinking enough water at work, as all day long I drink coffee and then I get home and I am really thirsty. So this morning I decided that every day, when I get to work, I'll drink a few glasses of water to sort of get going and get some water down the hatch.

So this morning, I got in to the office, went straight to the water tap and drank three glasses of delicious cold Norwegian water. Look at me, bein' all healthy and shit! Then I made my coffee as usual.

Got to my office, sat there gulping my coffee while opening my email, only to discover an email sent officewide titled "WARNING DO NOT DRINK THE WATER" with a link to this article. An article telling us to not drink water from taps, or from coffee makers or from anything but a bottle, basically.

Some times you just can't win.

In which no news is...no news

I hate the fact that I have become a very boring blogger lately. It's mostly due to the fact that there is way more that I can't blog about than I can. The more people discover the blog, the less I feel I can write honestly about stuff. I mean, I can't write much about work because some work people are reading this. (Hello y'all! Love my job! Woohoo!) I don't want to write about girl stuff because I know alot of boys who read this. (I will still write about shoes and dresses, though, so you boys go read about cars or something somewhere when I do.) I can't write about personal stuff because it either makes me uncomfortable or Rich doesn't like it. I don't write about HIS work or other stuff that can get either of us Dooced. We actually have alot going on, just none of it that I can write about.

So I blog about travels or trivial matters or things that happen on a daily basis. Things are going well at work (not to jinx it, but really well and I am damned happy lately in that area). Fall has settled in and it is getting harder and harder to get up in the dark gloomy mornings.

We have been watching 'Heroes' lent to us by Grant and OMFG I am addicted. I finished season three of 'Grey's Anatomy' this weekend and season two of 'House' a couple weeks before. I decided I'd much rather be a patient on Grey's than on House, mostly because of the immense hotness of the men. ( I mean, McSteamy might be a little too perfect, you know? but when he's just wearing a towel, that is some serious yummy right there)(just saw he's married to Rebecca Gayheart, and that's just not fair as that is like the most unrealistically handsome couple I have ever seen) Also, seems like Grey's patients are put through less horrible tests than the ones on House.

This morning I missed my train, though I was sitting on the platform, because I was watching episode one of season 4 of Grey's Anatomy on my iPod and I was so involved I did not hear the train pull up (it snuck up on the platform behind me instead of in front of me like it usually does) and I did not notice it until it was leaving. Damned quiet Norwegian trains. Had to wait another 20 minutes for the next one.

I have put myself on a low carb (not no carb, just low carb) diet and it is frigging KILLING me. I am always hungry and constantly crave snacks. All I want in this WORLD is bread. Or rice. Tortilla chips with my fucking low carb beans. Or a damned donut. (Last night on an episode of 'Heroes' the cop was eating a donut and I swear if I could have jumped through that screen and ripped it out of his hand I would have. Thus making me a Hero, in a way, huh? The screen jumping donut grabbing hero.) Instead I have another hard boiled egg and hope it fills the craving. So far, not so much, though luckily I do like hard boiled eggs more than your average person, it turns out.

Anyhow, low carb sucks. It's been four days now and it still just sucks. I am obviously one of those carb cravers. I am saving Fridays for my Eat Carbs And Go Nuts Day, because that is Waffle Day at work, Beer Night at the Pub, and I am going to have waffles, beer, french fries, pasta and maybe just inject starch right into my veins as well. I get teased at work for my effervescence on Waffle Day, I just loves me the waffles. People email just to tell me that it's waffle day. Then they stand back to watch me go after them in the canteen. (This would also be a reason why I do not have a waffle maker. Well, that and I have a rule that I do not buy kitchen implements that only have one use or make only one thing. So no juicers or waffle makers or deep fryers. My deep fryer also doubles as a slow cooker, rice cooker and something else which I forget.)

Carbs. I miss them. The only thing I refuse to give up, because it means certain death for everyone around me, is my coffee. I like sugar in my coffee and that is that and it won't change and I am NOT giving it up. Hence the LOW carb and not NO carb diet.

Now excuse me whilst I make my dieters tea, that Rich says smells like smelly feet with ass, but that I actually rather like. I think it's peppery. At least, that's what I tell myself.

random pictures from prague

a photo Rich took of a headstone. (headstone, get it? ahem, sorry.) It's a beautiful and yet scary image, isn't it?

Me on the tram. (This fall I am REALLY into shades of grey.) I like this picture, mostly because I am just about the WHITEST person I've ever seen. I mean, due to the lack of summer in Norway this year, I got NO sun. My mom, a natural redhead, was teasing me about the whiteness of my legs. My MOM teasing ME about being white? This from a woman who has used self tanning lotion for years, even in the first years it was out and so her legs were always kind of orange? And she's teasing me about being white? I never thought I'd be whiter than my mom.

Me and my friend Mary contemplating the peeing statues in Kampa in Prague. I hope you can get a bit closer on our faces? Because the differences in our expressions is priceless. Very different thought processes going on. There were four ladies sitting on a bench just to my left out of the picture and they were laughing their ASSES off while we took this. It was taken by Mary's husband, Rich buggered off, he was too embarrassed to be seen with me. This, by the way, is a usual occurrence.

our hotel room in prague

prague october 2007 064.jpg, originally uploaded by karlakp.

Our hotel in Prague was a renovated 13th century monastery. I knew that when I booked it. However, due to some sort of luck (and probably a little bit of Texas charm) the very nice girl at chieck in gave us a SUITE which is the single most incredible hotel room I have ever stayed in. I couldn't believe it when I went in there the first time, I started jumping up and down with glee.

It had painted wooden beam ceilings, parquet floors, a separate bedroom besides the HUGE main room, original gothic archways and doors, three foot thick walls, and all sorts of original features.
The gothic doorway towards the back had old hinges embedded in the wall. The rooms were also tricked out with flat screen tv's and a marble bathroom with a tv embedded in the wall. I mean, really!

I didn't want to leave the hotel, I just wanted to stay there. but we had beer to drink, food to eat and friends to hang out with, so I reluctantly left our amazing crib and wandered out and about Prague.

library at Strahov Monastery Prague

prague october 7 and 8 2007 078.jpg, originally uploaded by karlakp.

I mean, wow?

Isn't YOUR library like this?

prague october 7 and 8 2007 086.jpg, originally uploaded by karlakp.

At Strahov Monastery in Prague. They only let you look in the doorway and point a camera into the room, no flash. But oh my what a gorgeous place.

library at strahov monastery

library at strahov monastery, originally uploaded by karlakp.

Seriously beautiful libraries at this monastery. It's in Prague, up near the castle.

nun

prague october 7 and 8 2007 216.jpg, originally uploaded by karlakp.

I'm not sure why I like taking pictures of those in the priestly profession. Must be the flying clothes or something.

This is in Prague. She was a young nun.

church door

prague october 7 and 8 2007 217.jpg, originally uploaded by karlakp.

Up at Vyserad in Prague.

gravestone statue

gravestone statue, originally uploaded by karlakp.

in a cemetery in Vyserad castle grounds, a very famous cemetery in the Czech Republic.

A Car Named Beer

There's a new design concept for a car, from Japan.

It's call the Pivo 2.

I think I would definitely be in the market for one, expecially as Pivo in Czech means Beer.

More about our trip, with pictures! later.

woo!

Off to Prague.

We will probably take a side trip to this.

Jealous?

Woo!

I so need this.

Things that annoy me today, a bullet post

• GWB
• Today's cloudy sky
• My shoes hurt
• These people at this partner company to ours, for whom I seem to be doing an ungodly amount of work that THEY should be doing but they are too stupid to do themselves. I finally had to send them a nastygram telling them that I don't actually work for THEIR company I work for MINE and they should get their shit together ASAP. (I cc'd it to a boss and he laughed out loud when he read it and was all "Right on!" My rep as a Texas Ass Kicker continues.)
  
• When watching "So You Think You Can Dance", all the modern dancers ALWAYS do this one move where she sticks her leg up straight into the air, like standing splits. I am so SICK of that move, I call it the Crotch Shot, and I really don't want to see it again. Ever. Dancing Girls, quit showing me your crotch, I don't care HOW limber and dancey you are.
  
• The fact that I picked up a fuzzy sweater today and it got fuzz all over my black pants.
  
• The zit in the middle of my cheek. Right on the cheek bone. Ow.
  
• My aching back that will NOT stop hurting.
  
• My hair is strangely flat today.
  
• I am hungry yet nothing appeals.
  
• The fact that grocery stores here do not have express lanes, and so me and my litre of milk and one box of cereal had to wait in line behind 5 old ladies with very full carts. And, as I learned to my disgust a few months ago, no, they WON'T let you go ahead if you have just one thing and are in a hurry.
  
• Having to pay for grocery bags.
• Grocery shopping here in general.
  
• This one guy on Grey's Anatomy who is just a bit TOO handsome. Like, sorry, dude you are too perfect and you just BUG me.
  
• My bracelet that keeps getting caught on everything, including, today, my underwear when I was trying to tuck my shirt in. My hand was stuck in the back of my waist for about 7 minutes and I really thought I would have to come out of the toilet at work and ask someone to extricate my hand from my own ass. I finally managed to get it loose but I was freaking out for a while there. (This once happened to me at a store, as well, and I did have to ask the sales girl for help getting unattached. THAT was embarrassing, literally.)
• Late trains.
  

Bush = Dick

Seriously, I am so mad at the president right now.

He spends billions upon billions in Iraq (700 billion) and then vetos a program at home that is meant to help kids get medical care. Kids who are stuck in that wierd gap where they are too rich to be poor but too poor to afford health insurance. In other words, probably NOT kids from Republican families.

He vetos a program that could actually do some good at home, that 70% of Americans support, that would cost maybe 5% (35 billion) of what he is spending in Iraq. Then he justifies raising the spending on a war that no one wants!

He's a frigging idiot. The idea of government 'by the people for the people' is so far gone from American politics it's not even funny.

If you are an American, please sign this. Do it now. You know I don't ask you to do things like this often, but man this really has me het up, you know?

I so relate to this article

When Rich and I moved to Norway, his company sent us some forms and paperwork and asked us, "Ok, so when do you want to sell your house?" I was completely floored by their suggestion, as I had never even the slightest thought about doing so and their assumption that we would took me totally be surprise. There was just NO way in HELL I wanted to sell our house. It's my home. And that is that. End of discussion.

This article explains really well how I still feel about that issue. (International Herald Tribune At Home Abroad routinely carries great articles specifically aimed at expats of all countries. It's a great resource for news and a sense of understanding, that there are indeed other people in my same situation, no matter how odd a duck I might feel at times.)

That little house in a funky part of Austin is my anchor to home and friends and family, and if I ever lost it or sold it while out here, I would feel completely adrift. I don't really care how much of a pain in the ass it is to rent it or take care of issues from far away, it's my security blanket and source of comfort. No matter how pear shaped things might get (not that they are, but they COULD be) I always have a place to retreat to. An escape. Something real and physical that will always be there for us, as long as we wish it.

My little piece of home in Texas. So nice to know it's there for me.

party

We had a little gathering on Saturday in honor of my friend Kristin, who is going on a 6 month adventure above the Arctic circle to work at a weather station. She is the most adventurous woman I know (well she and my stepmotherinlaw Colleen, who is also pretty damned adventurous.) I mean, she is going to be in the Arctic for SIX MONTHS. NO shopping, NO trees, NO leaving that place....and did I mention NO SHOPPING??? Wow.

No shopping. I'm sort of stuck there, actually.

My brain is blank. How could anyone not have any shopping for 6 months? Ouch.

But she says they have a bar or two there, so I guess she can drown her sorrows somehow.

I was going to write about the party (it was fun) but now I am really obsessing on the whole idea of not shopping and my mind is blank. 6.months.no.shopping.

No. Shopping. SIX. MONTHS.

!!

We go to Prague this weekend with some friends for a Pub Extension Tour. Yep, our Friday Pub Gang will be on the loose in a whole 'nuther country. We are already discussing pros and cons of pubs we know there. I am bringing all my hangover cures....I'll need them.

almost enough to make me want to learn to knit

This book makes me want to learn to knit.

I've never EVER wanted to learn that particular skill, me being Instant Gratification Girl, but this makes me curious.

Plus I love the name of the title.

Hmmmm.......

lag of the jet and achieving true womanhood

The flight home ended up being very smooth, even with the minor check in hangups. All the flights were on time, I got a bulkhead seat AGAIN on the long part from Chicago to Brussels, AND I got all my luggage at the end. Wow.

I have figured out one thing, however. It seems like American Airlines directly correlates an inverse ratio of plane size to attendant size. Once again on the flight from Springfield, the tiny plane was served by a HUGE guy, and yes, once again my arm got rubbed raw (I am trying to think of it as assular exfoliation) by the poly-cotton pants of the large male flight attendant to-ing and fro-ing on the aisle. Not only that but he paid an unGODly amount of attention to a little girl sitting on the seat diagonally behind me, and so his ass tended to rest on my shoulder while he talked to her. Poor kid, how scary was that to be confronted with a giant goofy slow talker in poly-cotton blend pants for the whole flight and have no escape? Her parents tried to be as polite as possible, but it was a little icky how much attention he gave that kid. Granted, she was pretty cute.

Got home, took a nap, and then could not sleep that night. Finally dropped off around 6 am, Rich woke me up at 8 so I could go to work, I said "10 more minutes" and then I next woke up around 1:30. Which made it a bit late to make it to work.

Same non-sleepiness happened last night, but this morning Rich made sure I got up and got my ass to work...only to be made late anyhow by total train chaos as they were all late 'due to signal problems'. GRRRUMBLE grr arg.

Spent the whole day catching up on emails.

Last night before I went to bed, I sprayed a shitload of Easy Off Oven Cleaner in the oven. See, the oven has been FILTHY for months and I am too scared to use the 'self clean' mode. There are like, 1000 things you have to do as precautions to ensure "safe usage" and most of them involve things that I am not sure what they are talking about, and all of them involve severe warnings if you don't do them just right. Plus, the self clean mode goes to something like 1000 degrees and I am not at ALL comfortable having something that hot be baking away inside a plaster wall that backs on to my living room. And you have to do it for TWO HOURS and it says that you should make sure the whole house is adequately ventilated. But it's not really warm enough to adequately ventilate and did I mention I am a big lily livered chicken anyhow? (Big confession here: I've never actually ever cleaned an oven before. They never really got dirty enough for me to need to. Because I never really cooked all that often. Until now.)

So when I was in the US I got me a big ol' can of Easy Off and brought it back to Norway. Fume Free, says the can. Toxic, say all the warning labels. Exactly what I was looking for. You can't get oven cleaner here, at least none that would be even close to strong enough to get rid of the goo I've got going on in there. And let me just say I wanted a big ol' toxic, kill your babies before they are even born, take the skin off your hands American cleaning product. That also smelled pretty and citrusy!

And holy shit did it work. I sprayed it around, left it on over night, and today, after work, voila! Sponged that baked on shit right outta there. It never had a chance. Lemony fresh clean oven. Courtesy of good ol' Murican chemistry.

I believe that I have just crossed the last threshold into true womanhood. I cleaned my oven. Yep, I am woman hear me roar.

on the road again

I'm at the airport. Free wireless, so woo to Springfield for providing something that every airport should already have!

Checking in sucked ass. American charged me $50 per bag for being over the weight limit. (Continental, by the way, charges $25.) It used to be you could bring two bags up to 70lbs each if you were going to/from Europe. Now they've dropped it to 50lbs, with charges for up to 70. I mean, it's not too horrible, but I just get so tired of them changing the rules all the time.

So I had a small snit fit at the check in counter because I was mad, and I was mad that I was mad, and yes my luggage was heavy but I live in NORWAY dammit and they DON'T HAVE VELVEETA THERE so this luggage policy is very anti-expatriate, and my parents were there, watching and being supportive and I didn't want to say bye and I didn't want to have a snit in front of them because I'm a BIG GIRL dammit and big girls don't have snits at airports, and Aunt Flo is coming any minute so I am on the razor's edge of moody and irritable and can snap you like a twig if you look at me funny, and check in people at airports generally annoy me, though I can't put my finger on WHY, and did I mention I am just pissed off that I am so pissed off? And to top it off, I really don't feel like doing any of the following:

1) Flying
2) Being awake for the next 24 hours.
3) Being wedged into a cramped seat.
4) Eating bad food.
5) Going through all that damned security.
6) Wearing the same underwear for 24 hours.
7) Using a plane bathroom
8) Carrying stuff
9) Sitting next to crazy people (see Sept 16th's post)
10) Worrying if my damned luggage will make it or not.

But at least this airport has wireless access.

And I had IHOP for breakfast, which is always good.

See you back in Norway.

scenes from the country

Baby chicks. A mix of guineas and regular chicken babies. Ever been around Guinea fowl? They are noisy as hell and kind of annoying, but they are great eaters of bugs.

Awww....baby chicks at night.

The puppy (now a fairly hyper and slightly annoying young dog)looking up at the grown ups. There are four dogs, all German Shepherds, and they scare away coyotes and visitors with their big barks. On the right is the wall of Dad's greenhouse, he has all sorts of fruit and veggies growing in there, including figs, bananas and kumquats.

Slightly blurry photo of the fireplace in the main room. Mom and dad have a new entertainment system that is so complex they have to refer to written instructions every time they want to watch a dvd, change from satellite to regular tv, or use the surround sound.

Dad builds Japanese gardens as a hobby. He really gets into it, moving rocks that weigh tons to make fountains, create flower beds and pathways. This photo is from a few years ago, when he was in construction phase. The Buddha was my grandparents'. They had amazing Japanese gardens as well, on the Gulf Coast of Mississippi. My grandfather created new strains of camellia, he (and my grandmother) were AMAZING gardeners. All gone now, after Katrina. Where their house was (they are both dead) was in the epicenter (Gulfport) of the worst damage.

View back to the house from the orchard. I think that's a pear tree on the left. The house has been added on to and modified since this photo. It's very old, though it's been renovated over time. We have pictures from the turn of the century and it is probably older by 50 years than that. There as even a very small Civil War battle in the creek down the hill. A Union guy and a Confederate guy met up, argued and killed each other. The Battle of Hungry Hollow!

A fountain and pond that Dad built. It's now full of native goldfish, lotus and happy bullfrogs. In the background (the dog is looking at it) is a traditional Japanese fountain (though I saw one in Thailand, too) which consists of a pipe, usually made of bamboo, that slowly fills with water trickled into it from above. The pipe is on a pivot and as the water fills, it tilts down and the water dumps out. The pipe "clocks" back down into place making a melodic sound. We had one in Houston when I was growing up as well. The sound is very distinctive and once you hear it you don't forget it. The pond is all grown over with plants and some trees now, it looks very natural.

Mom and I went for a walk in the woods on Wednesday and now I have a bad case of chiggers all around my ankles. That is the WORST itch.

Feelin' groovy

I had a Big Shopping Day today.

Drove the hour and a half to Springfield today and hit the mall. Got some much needed basic t's and sweaters, some cute winter boots (well, cute for rainproof, snow proof, flannel lined, lug rubber soled lace up brown Ecco boots), some Lucky jeans, an AWESOME jacket and skirt and, most necessary of all, a haircut.

Getting my hair cut in Norway costs me minimum $100., and as the average head there has straight blonde hair on it, it is kind of hard to find someone who is good with curly hair. So I tend to save my haircuts for when I am either in the UK, Italy or the US. (OK, I've only been to Italy twice, but it is the home of the curly titian haired woman and DAMN they can cut curly hair there). It always ends up being cheaper if I do it outside Norway. I don't want anything trendy (the salons in Norway are great at trendy angular cuts for people with straight hair), just some layers to make my curls bounce around in a lion's mane. It's my look and I am sticking with it.

Today I walked into a Regis haircutter in the mall, no appointment, and got a GREAT haircut from a tiny Vietnamese lady for $35. It air dried and looks like a million bucks. LOVE HER! I feel so much better. I haven't had a haircut since March, in London, and I really needed one.

I also had some AWESOME Mexican food. OHMYFUGGINGGOD it was great. All sloppy cheese and guac and salsa and spicy fillings dripping out of tortillas. Heaven. 8 hours later I am still urping up salsa.

Got home and Mom poured me a glass of wine so big I couldn't finish it. A nice Tomassi Ripasso. Hic!

It was pretty much a perfect day.

America is wierd, as evidenced by advertising

1) Whoever allowed someone to take Elvis's song "Viva Las Vegas" and turn it into an ad for Viagra (Viva Viagra!) should be hanged, drawn and quartered. What a travesty of a piece of American history.

2) One of my favorite series of ads in Norway is for a yeast infection cream. The ads are hilarious, always entailing a woman, overtaken by the horrible urge to scratch that nefarious itch, surreptitiously scratching herself THERE and getting caught midscratch. By a guy. Or, as in one, her boss. They totally crack me up.

Here? The ads about cooch cream are all subtle innuendo about the "discomfort" and embarrassment of it all, and feature a woman looking vaguely uncomfortable and humiliated walking hang-doggedly about in a black sweat suit. Like she is too disgusting to be out in public. Then she gets cured and she walks around all bouncy in a pink dress. If you didn't know what the product was for ahead of time, you wouldn't know what the ad was about. No mention of ANY female body parts, the actual word "yeast" or anything that actually pertains to the reality of the situation.

So how come a yeast infection, an unfortunate, but common, fact of womanhood, is earthily laughed at in Norway but in the US is treated as a nasty humiliation where they can't even use the WORDS for what it really is? Yet it's completely ok to show couples dancing around and laughing as an Elvis soundalike sings about Viagra and uses terms like "erectile dysfunction" and warns that if you have "an erection that lasts longer than 4 hours contact your doctor"? I mean, Ew?

Ew Ew Ew. EW! That ad is on now! Ack!

Completely off topic, half an hour later: I've got a late night tv show on (Leno, I prefer Letterman but the remote's broken and I am too damned lazy to get up to change the channel) and there is a dude singing, tonight's musical guest, who sounds exactly like Carol Channing. Very strange.

Oh, yummy. Now is Conan O Brien. Me likey him.

I am winner of the Freak Lottery

So you know how, when you are waiting for a plane, there is always that one really wierd/smelly/insane person in the crowd waiting for your flight that you hope to God you won't get seated next to?

I always get seated next to that person. Never fails.

So yesterday, I flew from Oslo to Brussels to Chicago and thence to Springfield. By the time I got to Chicago I have been awake for 22 hours straight, and had a very bad night of no sleep before I even left Norway, so of course I was running on coffee, a crappy meal at Chili's and some really bad gas.

The flight leaving Chicago to Springfield was late. (All my other flights had been bang on time and very smooth.) I (and everyone else) were sitting as far away from the strange man in the waiting area as possible. It was entertaining to see someone new come in, find a space near him (as there was PLENTY of space that we had all vacated at one time or another) then, after 15 minutes of the guy's mumblings and such, move away.

The guy: had a cleft lip that was badly fixed. Black teeth. A large plastic bottle in to which he spit tobacco constantly. (I wonder how come THAT was not confiscated at security? Talk about toxic chemicals!). Raggedy beard and hair. Truckers cap and matching t shirt. Kept mumbling and talking to complete strangers, like me. (Yes, I was one of the ones who moved as well.)

Finally it came time to board the EXTREMELY SMALL plane. Like, I could not stand up straight small. 30 people max small. I wedged myself into my seat (aisle, ALWAYS aisle) and congratulated my self on having an empty seat next to me.

Until, just was we were about to leave, Mr Freak Man from the waiting area came sloping onto the plane carrying a ragged pillow, a backpack that looked like a small animal had died in it and was still there, and his plastic bottle of spit/tobacco horror. And he sat next to me, in the window seat. Shit shit shit.

The guy sitting in front of me turned around smiled at me and said "You've won today's lottery". I looked at him mournfully and sighed, "I always do". Everyone for three rows busted out laughing.

Freak Man proceeded, for the whole hour and a half flight, to mumble almost incomprehensible things to me, nonfucking stop. I did catch something about his wife having left him after almost a year of marriage, which my thought was not "oh poor you" but more like "Wow, how on earth did you get someone to marry you?" Something about him being scared of flying, and how he likes to have the window down (I of course, being slightly claustrophobic in small spaces, was like "NO! Window UP window UP!!!! Must have light and space!" Something about his job, he was indeed a trucker (which makes me fear for my life now every time I ever see an 18 wheeler because if THAT is the kind of guy driving those behemoths, I mean, holy shit?) In between his ramblings, which I desperately tried to fend off with intense interest in my book, he spit into his jar of evil, and let me tell you, that did NOT smell good. I finally had to turn the air on high and sort of point it at him to blow the smell of bad breath tobacco and decay away from me. He then said he was cold and turned it off. Grrr....

Of course, with Freak Man on one side, I had Big Assed Nazi Flight Attendant man on the other side. This guy, who was WAY too big for the plane, was goingk to follow the rules und das ist alles JA WOHL MEIN HERR! He bumped up and down the aisle, opening windows, forcing up seats, making us keep our feet in place, physically checking seat belts, and rigidly observing the "seat belts on" signs. I swear, my left arm was rubbed raw by his ass cheeks sweeping past me every minute. I've never touched a guy's ass that much without actually having sex with him. I didn't enjoy it.

The woman sitting behind me got up to go to the toilet mid flight and he came flying back to her and asked her, loudly, if she was sick? She said, uh, no, nature called. He then dressed her down completely telling her to observe the seat belt sign at all times and to NOT DO THAT AGAIN. Of course, the whole time he was bent over and telling her what a naughty girl she was, his ass was resting on my shoulder. I mimed pinching it and the people across from me nearly busted a gut, because his ass was also resting on them.

The lady behind me was pretty annoyed that she got yelled at, and was going to lodge a complaint with the airline. I turned around and told her, "Yeah, he's kind of a jerk, but think of the story you've got to tell after this!" I swear, that is what got me through that flight, thinking about the blog post I could write. Blogging keeps me sane.

My parents met me at the airport, my luggage arrived in good time, all was well and then on the way home....we had a flat tire. At 10 pm at night, on a very dark country road. Of course. With my luck how could it be any different? Luckily, Dad is a dab hand (dab hand, God how old is that phrase? My grandmother used that phrase.) at all things "car", so it didn't take long to change the tire, once we found a place with light (some poor family's llooonngg driveway. We totally freaked them out by backing into it that late... the man of the house came out in his bathrobe, all "Can I help you?"). In order to change the tire, however, we had to unpack the ENTIRE trunk, my luggage, all Mom and Dad's Sam's purchases for the day, Mom telling us not to squash the cake and Dad cursing and cussing in his usual fashion. (Dad's modus operandi is to verbally bitchslap anything he is working on. A loudly voiced verbal stream of consciousness bitch session that freaks out anyone who doesn't know him, until they realize he is just trying to yell the thing he is working on into submission. Never works but makes him feel better. We all just tune it out now.)

Got the tire changed, got the car repacked, (left a bottle of Reisling for the folks whose driveway we used, hope they aren't recovering alcoholics) and got going again. I crashed out in the back seat using the pillow Mom had brought for me. I'd been awake for 27 hours now.

1/2 a mile from home a deer jumped out of a bush into the path of the car. Dad hit the brakes, avoided the deer and I went flying onto the floor of the back seat in a rude awakening.

The last half mile was uneventful.