I’d like to introduce you to my girls, Mia and Khloe, otherwise known as Trouble and Double Trouble. Only Kidding – well, maybe not. I do after all walk them almost everyday, pick up their you-know-what and clean their feet, so they don’t track dirt all over my house. This list could go on and on…
What do I get in return from these two silky, little King Charles Spaniels – love. Endless and unconditional love. Whether I’m gone for ten days, or just ten minutes, they’re always at the door with wagging tails to greet me. They never leave my side and comfort me when I’m down. Keep me company when I’m alone and make me laugh when I’m sad. I guess I need them as much as they need me.
The grandchildren love them too…
If you are a vegetarian who doesn’t eat fish, you may not want to read this post.
Last week the weather was cold but beautiful, with clear skies and plenty of sunshine. The weekend arrived and we were hit with another snow storm, but we didn’t let this interfere with our dinner plans.
Yesterday we took the boat out, set some nets and then returned this morning to collect our catch. There were fifteen Cod fish in the net. My father calls Cod, Norwegian turkey.
I don’t like seeing them jump around, gulping air. So when my husband wasn’t looking, I quickly threw the smallest ones back into the sea.
In less than two hours the fish were filleted and ready to cook. When fish is fresh, it curls and splits as it fries on the pan. It smells like the ocean and tastes like a dream.
Later, when my son asked how many fish we caught, I heard my husband answer “I could have sworn there were fifteen but I filleted only ten, I guess the other five jumped ship…”
Here, on the southwest coast of Norway, the cold days of winter are relatively short. The sun struggles from about the end of October until the middle of January to make any kind of significant appearance. There are some hours of daylight as it lingers on the horizon, but it’s never able to reach its full potential. It will however, make up for its shortcomings by working overtime during the summer months. That doesn’t necessarily mean the weather will be nice. As always we still have the cold Northern wind and lots of rain clouds to deal with.
Sometimes it’s hard to believe a beach girl such as myself ended up here (it must have been love).
I was suppose to be in school yesterday, studying Norwegian (one can never be too fluent) but for some reason my class was cancelled, or rather postponed. It was a beautiful but cold day, the temperature was -4 degrees Celsius, that’s about 20 degrees Fahrenheit. I decided to join some friends who were going over to the mainland for a walk along the old railway track. The trail takes you from the little town of Egersund to an even smaller place called Hellvik. There are a lot of twists and turns through the mountains and along the shore.
In some places we could see the island where we live, across the ‘fjord’.
We also walked through an old train tunnel, where giant icicles hung like daggers above our heads.
There was a sign posted outside which read, Enter at your own risk.
You can hardly take fifty steps in Norway without walking uphill, which can be absolutely exhausting, but at least you don’t have to worry about freezing. We walked for quite some time before taking a break between the rocks, in the sun. I could barely feel the sun on my face, but it was there, trying, and that’s good enough for me. It seems brighter days now lie ahead.
Robert Louis Stevenson (from A Child’s Garden of Verses, 1885)
Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head,
Blinks but an hour or two, and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.
Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise,
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.
Close by the jolly fire I sit,
To warm my frozen bones a bit,
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore,
The colder countries round the door.
When I go out, my nurse doth wrap,
Me in my comforter and a cap,
The cold wind burns my face, and blows,
Its frosty pepper up my nose.
Black are my steps on silver sod,
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad,
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding cake.
Okay, here goes…
I’ve got a bad cold and a lot on my mind these days and therefore, haven’t been sleeping very well. While driving my nineteen-year-old son to work
early this morning, we got into a rather intense conversation over gun control. Me for, him against.
I am a middle aged woman, who’s lived in three countries, had two husbands and raised six children. In no way do I feel as if I’ve lived a sheltered life and yet I have never held, or shot a gun. Anyone with a gun in their hand has the ability to kill and that frightens me! If I had been raised around guns, who knows, maybe I’d feel differently. But I wasn’t and I don’t.
My son, like myself has never held a gun, he is a quiet and soft hearted individual and yet we found ourselves on opposing sides this morning. He argued that we need guns for protection and that surveys show, there is less crime in places where people are armed. He was basically saying that most problems could be solved if everyone carried a gun. I disagree.
I lived in a violent relationship for twelve years and strongly believe if there had been a gun in the house, someone would have been hurt, maybe even killed. I also believe that most break-ins, robberies and rapes happen without warning and unless you have a gun strapped to your hip 24-7, it may not help to own one. We have all seen what happens when guns fall into the wrong hands and there are a lot of ‘wrong hands’ out there! How do we control that? By arming teachers? Movie theater attendants? Who knows, maybe one of them is crazy…
I’m not calling for a ban on all guns, I don’t have any answers. I’m just a mother and I worry.
I did not write this post in hope of starting a heated debate on the pros and cons of carrying a gun. I wrote this post for my son to read in his own quiet voice, instead of hearing me yell like I did this morning. For this reason, I’m asking for NO comments today. Thank you!
As we stand on the threshold of 2013, I’m sure we’re all thinking the same thing -New Year, new start.
After stuffing myself silly in honor of Christmas this past week, I went to the gym last night. I got a tremendous cramp in my right side while attempting to run on the treadmill and spinning made me nauseous. I left having burned off maybe five, of the fifty Christmas cookies I’ve eaten. I once again went to bed vowing to give up sugar.
It’s my vow every year and yet the longest I’ve ever gone without eating sugar is two weeks back in 1997 (and thats probably because I was sick). Sugar is my weakness, it’s my addiction.
I lived down the street from a little bakery when I was pregnant with my first child and would go there at least twice -okay, three times a week to buy cake. I’d always buy a chocolate/vanilla marble, buttercream cake and eat the whole thing myself. For nine months I ate three cakes a week, before giving birth to a sweet little girl. Sugar and spice, thats what little girls are made of… Right?
My stomach would never allow me to do that today, but I still eat way more than I should.
Because of time and other commitments I’ve also recently announced that I need to give up blogging. But as you can see, that seems to be another addiction…
I may not be commenting as much, but I still read posts as often as I can and will continue to post myself on occasion. I know its a you follow me, I’ll follow you, world out there but I need to put that aside. Forget about stats and do what I can, when I can. Instead of vowing to give up sugar this year, I’m going to vow to cut back -way back and to blog without pressure.
I’d like to thank my friends Maddie and Kathy for kindly bestowing me with the Super Sweet blogging Award (it was fate). I’d also like to apologize and thank everyone for all the awards I never found the time to properly acknowledge this year. It is all of you, that I would like to pass this award on to.
Silliness aside, I hope with all my heart that 2013 turns out to be a great year for all mankind. Happy New Year!
I’ve hit a milestone today and I’m celebrating with tea. This is my 100th post!
Last year at this time, I had just made the monumental decision to publish my life story. In other words, share the good and reveal the bad. All of it. To-the-entire-world!
If that wasn’t nerve-wracking enough, I was also strongly advised to start a blog. Me? A blog! The thought was terrifying. I was afraid people would show up looking to read great posts, written by an experienced author and instead find me. What would I write about and what would it sound like without an editor to help polish things up?
Obviously I found stuff to write about, this is my 100th post and everyone’s been great in overlooking my bad grammar. Everyone except my daughter Michele, that is…
Stick it out for one year, or one hundred posts, whatever came first. That was the deal I made with myself last April, when starting the blog. But what will I do now? I honestly don’t know.
My biggest dream is to have my book translated to Norwegian and yet I haven’t spent much time working on that. I have one son leaving for college and another who will be a senior in high school next year. I also have three, precious little grandchildren living right up the road and I’d love to spend more time cuddling with them. I hate that I sit at one end of the house and my husband the other, on our computers every night. If there was only more time, or I had more energy.
For now all I can do is thank everyone who’s followed along, stopped by once in a while, and pushed the like button. I’m also giving away a signed copy of my book, Fly Away Home. If you’re interested, pop over and visit Janneke, at DrieCulturen and leave a comment. She writes an interesting blog about growing up in other cultures. Check it out…