Too much work too little time

So, I guess I have largely abandoned this blog, though that was not my intention.

I am just so FUCKING busy.

And when I get really busy, the last thing I want to do is think about what I did all day, I just want to get past it, move on and get on with the next bit of whatever i have to take care of.

The new job is absolutely overwhelming. I can't really say that I like the American way of working, everyone is so in fear of losing their jobs, there is no real creativity of work or the ability to have any real input into anything, just buckle down and do it so you keep your job.  I didn't realize how fearful the American worker is, if you find injustice in something, you can't speak up. What the hell? Our new office is also very stratified, which I don't like, there's even a meeting room for executives only, the rest of us plebes aren't allowed to go in without an executive to hold our hand. I call bullshit. That is SUCH crap, I can't even begin to express my disdain for it.  After all those years in the relatively equal and team oriented Norway, this kind of thing is very hard to take. Norway changed me more than I know, I guess, I see the whole American corporate world through very socialistic eyes, and I don't know that I will ever really be comfortable in it. I think people should be respected for who they are, not how much they make.

I do find the work interesting, though, and I am learning an awful lot.  It's a bit like boot camp, and I am very stressed out, but I do find the small achievements rewarding. In the past 4 months I've been to Alaska, Trinidad twice, Paris and England, so I guess travel is part of the gig. I think I will eventually be pretty good at the job, though there is a huge learning curve, and I am being expected to work at a level like people who have been doing this for 20 years, but I am holding my own as well as I can and that is the best I can do right now. I really have to find a way to handle the stress, though.

Oh, and I bought a house, I close in just over a week, Rich is flying in to the closing, and, um, will see it for the first time. Yeah, he hasn't seen the house yet, because he is not living in Houston yet. Seems better financially,  this late in the year, for him to work out the year in Norway. It kind of sucks, because I have been SO stressed out at work PLUS buying a house and doing all that shit solo, but the house is amazing and I can't wait to get into it and I think he will really like it. I will post a picture of it, with the proviso that it looks much bigger from the outside than it really is, it looks almost castle-like. It's four stories, a townhouse kind of thing, so it looks MASSIVE from the outside.  But the 4th floor terrace has views all the way to downtown Houston and it is light and bright and so full of windows. It was the first house I saw, and I looked at about 20 more, but I always came back to this one, so in the end I just said, yep, this is it. So, here's some pics of the new house. The mortgage on this place will be less than half the rent we paid in Oslo!

The kitchen was the thing that clinched it for me. That window!!! It's so light and bright in there.

I know, I know, it looks massive. I KNOW........

I can't wait to watch a storm roll in from my lofty 4th floor perch.....

God knows when I will post again, and I am sorry about that. but I guess maybe you can see why I haven't been posting much....things have been just insane.

cat in pub window, London

IMG-20130914-00660.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

I'm in London. At a pub. There's a cat in the window. The bartender is a redhead from Ireland. I've fucking missed this.

Trinidad

IMG-20130827-00586.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

Earth, pool, sky. I'm traveling again!

Austin

IMG-20130811-00545.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

Having a short but busy weekend in Austin. Oh, and I bought a house yesterday....

When 40+ year olds hijack a kid's water slide birthday party.....

IMG-20130629-00318.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

So this happened last night. That is a 2 story inflatable water slide next to my friend Anne's house. There was tequila. And soap.

She hired it for her son's 9th birthday party. They had like, a million kids there on Friday, they stayed (the kids) until almost 11 at night. Anne slept late the next day, then she invited HER friends over for night 2 of the water slide extravaganza. And, lucky me, I am her friend! (One of her oldest, I've known her since we were 11.)

So over I came, armed with bikini and Daisy Dukes. Of course, it being Anne's house there was no lack of booze and tequila and generous helpings of food (they're Greek, they feed people, rather like we Krauts do.)  We noshed and guzzled and giggled. And tried to stay cool....

Because...did I mention it reached 105F in Houston yesterday? It did. It so totally did.  It was so hot I literally could not move. I tried to go shopping and gave up, it was too hot to walk through the air. I did not have the energy to make air move so that i could get through it.

It was HOT. When it's that hot, getting drunk and sliding screaming down a water slide at midnight with a bunch of other drunk 40-somethings seems a really sensible idea. And as you get drunker, adding soap to the water on the slide makes A LOT of sense, because it makes the ride slipperier and faster. It also makes your eyes go bright red and your hair look like it belongs to a hedgehog being pulled backwards through a log as it dries, but hey, the soap did add viscosity to our sliding efforts.  Though next time, if that much lubing of a 2 story water slide is needed, I might suggest this instead. 

Things I learned last night:

1. Don't go down backwards on your stomach if you have lower back problems. That last little dip and upthrust as you launch into the water hurts. 
2. Be careful of your wobbly ankles (I twisted one, though not badly.)
3. If you are heavier or lighter, you will slide much faster. If you are in the middle (like me) you just sort of land on your ass somewhere in the middle. Anne's husband, Nick, man, he was FLYING off that slide, a couple times he overshot the pool and landed in the grass (which was hilariously funny as drunk him was trying to figure out what the hell happened.)
4. I know we are a totally different generation from our parents, now, I mean, can you imagine your  parents, at the age you are now, sliding down a water slide after a night of drinking tequila? The mere idea gives me fits of giggles, thinking of my parents doing that. (My dad might've but not my mom, it would get her hair wet, and that is verboten.)
5. What was cool was that Anne's teenage son and daughter joined in with us at one point. I would've NEVER deigned to join my parents doing something like that. (I mean, all those OLD people acting so WIERD.) Teenage me was an asshole. Anne's kids are cool. 

I wasn't missing Oslo last night....Texas beat Oslo hands down on this occasion. 

There's good bars in Houston.... I like a good dive bar.

IMG-20130622-00293.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

Another weekend, another bar.

fixed the photo issue! Presenting: beer!

IMG-20130615-00283.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

Well, I think I figured out the disconnect between Flickr and the blog. So  I can send pics again. Good.

So here's a picture from yesterday, I met a friend at the West Alabama Icehouse. It was a bit of a dive bar weekend, 3 icehouses, taco truck tacos, un-airconditioned and sweaty. Really pretty awesome, all told. I do like a good dive bar.

I've been very busy.

So sorry I haven't been posting. I've been so busy, and so many things have changed, it's actually gotten to be too much and when it gets like that, I kinda just go quiet, because how do you write about so many things happening at once?

I just haven't felt like talking about it all. Sorry.

Since Alaska, I also went to Trinidad for work, which was exciting and also very stressful. And my cousin Edward came to visit last week and we did a Tour de Tejas, well, a little one, taking in Austin, the Hill Country, San Antonio, and Houston. It was his first ever visit to the US, and I think he enjoyed it. I gave him the full Texas treatment, including this:

Yep, that is Vard with the cop that stopped me for speeding. I got off with a warning, and Vard got a picture of a lifetime.....note his shit eating grin. The cop was a cool guy. And I deserved to get stopped, I really did. If you pass a cop going 75 in a 60 (though I honestly didn't know the speed limit was 60) you should probably get stopped, if only for being utterly stupid.

I know I keep saying I'll be better, and I am saying it again....I'll be better about posting. One problem I have been having is that for some reason Flickr isn't connecting with my blog anymore and I can't get pictures posted from my phone, like I used to. That is pissing me off. And making me post less regularly because I can't just shoot them over from my phone....

Alaska

Just back from the UK for work. And now off i go to...ALASKA!

Holy crap, bucket list or what?

Texpatriate keeps rilling along.

Sorry haven't been posting. I will catch you up this weekend. But first gotta go to Alaska and run with the big boys.

Camel Riders

Camel Riders, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

Camel Riders (from 2007, I just came across it).

Original caption as follows:

What I was thinking while taking this picture, "Ow my ass. Ow my ass. Ow my ass. Wow this is cool. Ow. "

Why is the guy to the right eating his shirt?

Minion? MINION! Here! Now!

Hair of dog. Maybe the tail too.

IMG-20130325-00292.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

Some hair of the dog at London Heathrow BA lounge. After last night, I might need the entire dog.

My little Winchester hideaway

IMG-20130324-00285.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

Where I stayed in Winchester. The window under the peaked roof was my bathroom, and the window to the left of it was the bedroom. Can highly recomend the Wykeham Arms if you ever go to Winchester. Really, could find no fault. They even gave you free Fuller's London Pride in the fridge!

Green.

IMG-20130323-00278.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

Freezing cold yet so incredibly green. At St Cross Hospital almshouse. 14th century.

breakfast room

IMG-20130322-00266.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

This is the breakfast room at my hotel. C'mon, seriously? How lucky am I?

Cathedral

IMG-20130322-00272.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

Winchester Cathedral is my route to my hotel.

A quickie from Winchester.

I'm in Winchester, England for Hannah's funeral. It being my family, though, we are told not to wear black, bright colors only, so I think the array of loud colors will be astonishing. I for one am wearing a neon green cashmere J Crew sweater with floral jeans. (And a coat and umbrella, the weather has been shockingly bad except for a brief respite this morning, snow warnings all over England.)

Winchester is an utterly gorgeous town, so Olde Worlde it's almost cliche. To add to it, I am staying at a pub hotel, a rather nice one, as it turns out, and rarely have I stayed somewhere so perfect. The pub is around behind Winchester Cathedral, through an ancient stone archway and along a walled road. The room is gorgeous, the curtains are an embroidered floral that is so pretty I really want to steal them. The bathroom is huge, the bathtub gushes lashings of ass-boilingly hot water. My bath last night was like making Karla soup, I just stewed myself into a lather and came out sweaty and pink. I slept SO WELL last night. Almost no jet lag today. The hotel has free wifi, free Fuller's London Pride in the mini fridge, and the (award winning gastro) pub is directly across the skinny medieval road. The pub even has an original Thomas Crapper toilet in the loo, of COURSE not only did I take pictures, but when I used it, I tweeted from the Crapper. (Seemed to be something I must do. A pee tweet. Check my twitter feed to the left for tweets and pics. (er, not of me peeing, btw.)) Breakfast (included) was the best french toast ('eggy bread', as my cousin corrected me) that I have ever had. I am enjoying my stay here so much that I feel guilty, actually, as the reason I am here is so heart breakingly sad.

This morning we met to plant a tree in Hannah's honor. To say my cousin, my beautiful, heartbroken, destroyed cousin is showing the strain is an understatement. He is a gorgeous man, but right now his eyes look faraway and even when he smiles his big goofy smile, I see the pain and confusion lurking. Hannah's best friend (also named) Hannah is here, and poor girl, she can't stop shaking. She is so distraught, her body shows the stress even if she tries to act like she's got it under control.  It was at her house that Hannah fell down the stairs. I can't imagine, just CANNOT imagine the pain she feels as well as Edward. I don't know how she is going to bear up, life has given her some incredibly harsh blows the past few years, I don't think one person should have to go through all she has gone through lately.  All I can do is hug her and give her a xanax if needed. That is really all that CAN be done right now, sometimes you just need the chemical help. The tree planting felt like a burial. The sun came out briefly, and against forecast. I joked it was because I had a huge umbrella with me and no sunglasses. If I had not had an umbrella, it would have poured. Remember from past posts, I do have this power over the weather. The moment I went and bought cheap sunglasses, the sun went away.

I did a bit of shopping on the high street, bought a cute white crochet'ed dress and a wicked cool black tight peplum dress. Seems I am now a size 10 UK. And of course I hit the lingerie at Marks and Spencers. I do like shopping here. (Who am  Ikidding, I like shopping pretty much everywhere....)

At 2:30 we meet to go to the crematorium for the 'colorful' ceremony, where we are supposed to not cry. I don't know how THAT will be possible, but I have decided I am going to bring as much levity to the proceedings as possible and give Edward the laughs that I can. I bought a stupid, insanely dumb toy, a yodeling pickle, that I found in Houston, and gave it to him last night, along with the 'widower's' package of a nice bottle of Jack Daniel's, a carton of Camels, a shot glass and some salsa. If I were in his shoes, I'd only want to smoke, drink and eat random spicy things, so that's why I brought that.

So here I sit, alive and in luxurious circumstances, while my dear cousin's life has fallen apart in moments, and dammit I wish I could do more than I am. He says he'll come visit in Houston. I hope he does. The warmth and hot sun, and the general friendliness of the people, would be good for him.

So, now I will go change for the next part of this sad, beautiful day. Waterproof mascara needed.

The girl in the mask

IMG-20130316-00236.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

There were masks.

Ft Worth, cowtown

IMG-20130315-00205.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

Ft Worth, Texas. Downtown.

Driving

I didn't realize, living in Norway without a car for 7 years, how much I had missed driving. But now that I am back in a car, I see, oh, I see, how I have missed it indeed.

 I was in high school when Dad gave me my first car, my 1967 Corvair, a convertible with two carburetors and an automatic transmission that had two gears (first and everything else). I suddenly saw the freedom a car could give me, especially in a town like Houston. That car became my identity, my refuge. When I was angry, when I was sad, or when i was happy, I'd retreat to the car and go for a drive to think, to rage, to celebrate. It was my private space, my escape. I drove hard and I drove lustfully.

Those habits, those intrinsic built in motivations that I developed when I was 16, have not changed.

There is, for me, something sensual about driving. The Corvair wasn't terribly fast off the mark, being a rear engine vehicle and an automatic, but once you got it going, once it shifted clunkily out of that first gear and into the long huge 2nd gear, it just got faster and faster until that big old gas guzzling engine screamed and roared as I pushed it onwards. It was a temperamental bitch, but when it went, oh how it soared. I never found the top speed of that car, though damned if i didn't try.

My second car, another old convertible given to me by Dad, was a 1964 Renault Caravelle, a happy litte cast-iron rear-engined car with the cutest fins flaring out the back,  that ran and ran and hummed along with the best of intentions, even if it didn't have the braw power of the Corvair. I remember Mom driving me and my brother around in it when we were very little. I will never forget that car, how it felt so solid and wobbly all at once, how the engine gave me its all, how the steering wheel would start to vibrate in my hands at exactly 54mph and stop vibrating at 60mph, how i learned how to drive a stick shift in it, when I had to get from Houston to Austin, and I had no other option but to learn on the fly.  I remember that with the Renault I had a mechanic in Austin named Jonathan, who was a well renowned Citroen/Renault expert, and I talked about him like most women talked about their hairdressers, and i brought him cookies and treats whenever he had to fix something on the Renault. Something always went wrong with it, but Jonathan fixed it cheaply and thoroughly and I trusted him implicitly. (Apparently that little Caravelle, named Clarabelle, is still going, still on the road, somewhere in Seattle.)

And forward to now, having in the interim had the 1990 Honda Civic (4 wheels and 4 gears) and the 1997 Subaru Outback Sport, which I brought to Norway when we moved there and sold at a massive profit even though the car was 8 years old when I sold it. Each of my cars has had its own personality, I've loved each of them for their own strengths and weaknesses, rather like one does a lover. Now i have the WRX, which, for me, was the dream car, the car I always wanted. I don't know why it's the one I always wanted, when there are so many other sleeker, nastier, more elegant and faster rides, but for me, right now, the WRX is what makes me happy. I don't question it. To question my choice of car would be to question who I am, and right now, I just don't fucking care or have the energy to do that.

So tonight being in the maelstrom of emotion and angst that I have lately been going through, I found myself reverting back to my old teenaged, pre-Norway self. I needed to escape. So, I drove. I drove fast, and I drove hard, and I had the music loud (NIN Closer being an all time favorite) and I sang and cried and thought and shifted and sped and roared. Driving, for me, is therapeutic. It's sexy as fuck. It's me and the road and that shifter in my hand and my feet on the pedals,  and it's the possibility of death, and it's nihilism, and it's fast reaction and quick decisions and it is life, my life, maybe your life,  in my hands, entirely in my thrall, split seconds of excitement and daring and power.

It is me, totally and completely in control, utterly one with a fine tuned machine that can cause destruction or joy, can induce spine tingling, intense pleasure mixed with a sense of being God.

Maybe that's it. When I drive, I am God. I am testing God, I am saying fuck you, I can do anything I want, at that moment  I literally have my life in my hands and I can do with it what I wish. Like the NIN song, it brings me Closer to God. That turns me on. Driving turns me on.

Rest in peace, Hannah

The past week has been heart rending in so many ways. Closing out my life in Norway, saying goodbye to so many good friends, to Oslo, to the apartment, to a way of life,  and finishing my life in Europe. 

But nothing, and I mean, nothing, could possibly be as heart breaking as the news I got on Saturday morning, that my dear cousin, Hannah (my cousin Edward's wife) had an accident while out with friends and was terribly injured.   From what I understand, she fell and hit her head and the damage was too great. She was taken off life support and died two days later, in Edward's arms. 

Hannah and Edward were that couple everyone wants to have around, fun, sparky, funny, adventurous. they loved each other totally, had a gorgeous little house in Winchester, good careers, and were well set for a long life together. Hannah's sudden death is such a tragedy, such a young life taken for no reason at all. 

We are a close family, Edward and his brother Carl are my Mom's youngest sister's boys, and they are the cousins I know best, that I would visit in Germany or in England, and Edward and I have had a fair few drinking nights in London. I've known them since they were little, they are 10 years younger. They are my closest relatives outside my parents and brother. This is such devastation for us all.

Oh, Hannah, you beautiful sparky girl. as the song from Morphine goes, "Do not go quietly unto your grave". A life motto of mine, and one that I think you followed to the fullest. We will all miss you, and we will take care of Edward. We promise. 

Carl, Hannah with a big beer, and Edward at Munich Starkbierfest in 2010. 

Grabbing ass. (That's Rich's ass.) 

Hannah and Edward, this is how they always were. Laughing together. 

empty

IMG-20130302-02625.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

MMS-email

Empty. Alone. I sit and think. This week has been a game changer in my life. And, as it turns out, in more lives than just my own.

deserved gift

IMG-20130228-02608.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

MMS-email

My husband just bought me this. Combination Valentine's Day/Worst Week Ever prize. (He doesn't know he bought it for me yet.) Georg Jensen silver and rock crystal.

last ootd in oslo flat.jpg

last ootd in oslo flat.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

I lied. THIS is the last ever outfit of the day shot from the Oslo flat. I opened the wine as the movers took the last box. I am so tired. The hotel is nice but the elevator is out and we are on the 5th floor. I nearly cried thinking of getting my luggage up there.

last OoTD in intact apartment

IMG-20130223-02578.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

MMS-email

Last outfit of the day picture ever taken in my intact apartment. I think I look a bit sassy. This was taken last Saturday. I am not sassy today. I'm frazzled, yeah, frazzled is a good word.

wave

IMG-20130226-02603.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

MMS-email

Waving goodbye to the apartment, my entire world boxed up and in the hands of others.

everything i own will be in this box

IMG-20130225-02600.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

     
 The container awaits outside. My entire life will go into that big box. Right now I am surrounded by boxes of stuff, and I know how a hoarder feels, weaving their way around a warren of possessions piled up over their heads, balancing precariously. The movers load the container tomorrow.

I don't know if it's worth saying that I FUCKING HATE MOVING? I think that's pretty universal, isn't it?

Fresh Salmon....the only food I wil really miss

IMG-20130224-00178.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

What I miss most about Norway. Salma salmon, no bones or skin, sashimi grade. Cheap, compared to every other available foodstuff, and even cheap by US standards. You open the package, slice it and eat it right there. SO good, and never fishy or with the mealy texture some salmon can get. Wish I could hoard some in my suitcase....

Soon a beautiful memory

IMG-20130224-02598.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

MMS-email

Beautiful 18th c farmhouse in Frogner by our house. Will miss walking by it.

6 hours

IMG-20130224-00171.jpg, a photo by karlakp on Flickr.

Half packed up. The movers managed this in 6 hours. (The rest of the house is still in progress, of course.) I hate everything about this move. Everything.