Happy 101

I never get awards. I think I'm plugged into the wrong blogging circles...either that or lost in my own orbit of oddness. But I got one, I got one!

Emma at Pink Bliss tagged me in an awards meme. What I have to do is list ten things that make me happy, and then tag ten other bloggers. So, here goes:

1) These two goobers. Why else would I live in Norway, or be happy if it weren't for them? Even if Sverre has banned Max from the bed (a rule conveniently discarded when he's at work), and from the couch (which Max ignores on his own), they both like me an awful lot, and I kinda feel the same way about them.



2) An honest to God house. The whole upstairs-to-the-living-room thing is weird, but a great butt workout because I'm always forgetting something. I miss the coziness of the old apartment, but not so much that I regret having crash space for guests, room for a real couch (goodbye, fugster), a REAL kitchen, and a big bathroom. And the whole farmhouse from 1740 thing isn't too bad either. Only downside is that it's a rental.... But it still makes me happy!


3) The horses. They're flighty, silly, some are downright stupid, and the pony is crafty enough to keep us all spinning in circles. But nothing beats a warm nose and hay breath in the morning, or a forehead being presented for a rub. They've always been an excellent workout program, as I've gone down another pants size or two just trying to keep up with all the work they provide. (Example below: when finished rolling, guess who gets to knock the mud off those blankets?)


4) Books. Oh, I'm such a bookaholic. I have been savoring this one, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, as it is one of those great books you pick up because hey, it's 3-for-2 again at Ark. And then you realize it's a Pulitzer winner and you think, bor-ing, but this one grabs you right away. Love it. Anyway, I'm a compulsive book shopper. If there's money in my pocket I'll skip all the clothing places and walk straight into a book store, only to return with pockets empty and a bag full of reading material.

5) Coffee. I traded my cigarette addiction for the java, and now I'm a three-cup-a-day, full-blown addict.

6) History. I can wander through a museum for hours. I liked my history classes, and still pick up books covering just about anything. But especially Islamic and Native American (weird mix) cultures. (By the way, if you're having a bad day, don't read Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee. Save that one for some other time.)

7) Taking walks with my two goobers. There's nothing better than quality time with these two!


8) Hugs. C'mon, you gotta be crazy if hugs don't make you happy.

9) Hanging out with friends. It's so much fun to meet up with people and just let go and relax. Not to mention a shameless plug for Renny's Oslo Blog Gathering.



10) Being present. I'm happiest when I'm not worrying over the past or the future, but just enjoying myself in the now with friends, family, husband and animals. Sometimes it's hard to catch those moments, but when I do, I can't help but feel fulfilled.


And now to pick ten people to pass this on to:

You know, I can't pick ten people because I'm an idiot and always start feeling guilty that someone will feel left out. Which is totally lame, but still. So, if you'd like to accept this award, follow the rules above, and just take it! Except for:

WOMYN (I shall make you do this or I shall beat you with wet noodles, gaaaah! And because it is my goal to distract you from your studying.)

Dear Frances

Dear Frances,

You're gone now, and I think that may be a good thing. I think you have finally found peace, but I just wanted to write to you, and let others know, through this letter, how I feel about you.

You were my grandmother. Not through any biological lines. My grandparents left too early, and you filled their place for me. My last grandmother left me at seven, so you were the one who went to Grandparent's Day with me at school.

I remember sitting next to you at church. I remember your smell, like a warm kitchen and love. I remember the pasta that came out every Easter and Christmas. I followed you through the kitchen, plaguing you, and was herded out to sit with Guido in the living room. But you loved us kids still, and would always have a hug and kiss and a welcoming that is uniquely Italian-American. As kids we would wander in the garden, through the tomatoes and play in the backyard.

Later on in life you would include me in that female domesticity in the kitchen, trying to extend your knowledge of food and family to me. I wish I had listened at that age. I wish I had the knowledge and reflection that I have now. I hope memory will suffice.

Christmases would always be gingerbread men from Bathof's Bakery. We would eat those gingerbread men feet first on the car ride home. Because Christmas wasn't Christmas without Frances and Guido. Your home was a testament to your family, to your children, and to your grandchildren.

I want to thank you for being a mother to my mother and my father. They lost their parents early, and you filled a place for them that not many could. You were not only a friend, you and Guido were the parents they didn't have in a new state, in a new home. Because even grown adults, with children of their own, still need a mother. As an adult now, I can recognize the role you played for them, and I thank you so much. They loved you, and still love you, so very much.

As the Alzheimer's progressed, you would tell my mother that I was going to nursing school and marrying the man who lived in the house behind you. I think that this was not just the disease, but your hope of happy endings bleeding through the cloud of that wretched disease. I have found my happy ending, Frances, and I am sad that you never were able to meet Sverre. I think that it was best I never saw you in the old folk's home you were finally admitted to, but at the same time I feel a bit childish. I want to hold the memory of the Frances I know, and not think about the stories that repeated every few minutes as the degeneration progressed. I want to remember how you wanted to join the WAC as a young woman, and the stories about your children, and the people you helped. Because your life was always about helping others. Even if today you are a shining example that goes beyond religious affiliation. You were love, personified.

And that's what it really is about.

So I am thankful that you were granted a passing in your sleep. I am thankful that you left a legacy of love, and joy, and a community that will remember your help for the elderly, for the ill, and for those in pain. Your example of volunteerism through the hospital and through the Church should be a standard for all of us.

God Speed.
Find Peace.

Love,
Corinne

Oslo Blog Gathering -- August 2010.

Hey guys, August 2010 is like, this year. And just eight (almost seven since this is the last part of January?) months away!


Oslo Blog Gathering: August 18-22!

RennyBA’s Terella

Official Program Site

Tonight I met with Renny and many other Norwegian (and the Writer, our temporary Denmark expat) bloggers for a wonderful meeting conducted over tapas and drinks. Let me just say, this party is starting to look like a lot of fun.

We met at the First Hotel Millennium in downtown Oslo. The hotel staff is helpful, and very excited about the prospects of this gathering. Our tour included the rooms (nice, lovely, holy crap the balconies for the single Superiors!) and gathering areas. With their cozy restaurant and separate mingling area, we have a perfect location for information sharing and gathering.

VisitOslo was also represented, and lemme tell you, the Oslo Pass is pretty swanky. Included in the registration fee, if you join us you will be able to travel all over Oslo on this pass. It includes public transportation (vital! Vital!) and admission to just about every museum in Oslo.

I really like how this is taking shape. You can keep track of events on Renny's OsloBG page. But the basic gist is this: We want people to enjoy Oslo. So you'll get Oslo By Fire Hose the first day, with a guided tour by VisitOslo, ending with a meeting with the mayor at Oslo's spectacular City Hall. The next days will be filled with events you will be able to pick from, a kind of "build your own" experience of Oslo. It's really cool.

Another important note: If you are a Norwegian, a Norwegian blogger, or a blogger in Norway, this event is not closed to anyone! We would love to have a real mix of not only international bloggers, but native Weegies as well. If you would like to help out, contact Renny!

Nervous

So today I'm getting together all my transcripts---okay, the one transcript that I've received from the three schools I've attended--, my nifty little A.A. certificate (Associate of Arts, not the sober crowd), and the evidence I have that the government of Norway is aware that I'm still in their country and they are, in fact, hopefully doing something about that. I'm hoping to take a degree with an agricultural flavor. I'm tired of having my butt stapled to an office chair, and I loved my last job which had me driving up and down the county. Reimbursed gas mileage is awesome. Back on point....

I turned in my residency paperwork over a month before it was due. The holidays, and the Norwegian love of time off, meant that I received a "We're working on that" letter in the mail this week. My residency permit expires on the 31st of January.

My deadline for applying for school is 1st February.

I'm really, really hoping that a certified copy of the "We're working on that" letter and a copy of my old permit will satisfy the university.

In a perfect example of counting my chickens before they hatch*, I checked the bus tables. It takes two hours to get to the university. And the fact that the bus runs down our road about...oh, every two hours, this means I must have the horses fed, turned out, have myself scrubbed and fed and standing at the bus stop by 7:15 a.m.

If I get into the university.

I have no idea how I'll get home. It looks like, depending on (if I am accepted)my schedule I'll be looking at a ten hour day. Yeesh.

And then I'd still have to muck out my stalls, feed the horses, bed them down, and go home and get cracking on dinner. And homework, and all that other stuff.

Oh, and have I mentioned that Sverre is looking into going back to school, too?

If our cards line up correctly, we could have a very interesting next few years.


* In Norway, the corresponding colloquialism is "Don't sell the skin before you shoot the bear." Or something like that.

Camera Cord Thingamabobbie: Found

Aha! Finally found the camera cord in one of the yet-to-be-unpacked boxes labeled "Sverre stuff." Hahahahahaaa!

I took these photos after Christmas when we got a meter of snow!



Of course, all this cold weather lately means we have to wear more clothes. I call this the "Flying Nun Get Up." As you can see, she (one of our Thoroughbreds on the farm)is absolutely thrilled to wear it!

I have turned into the She-Lawrence of Scandinavia, as I tell Sverre, with my ear-warmers, hat, gloves, sweaters, scarves, coats, jeans, long underwear, and polar suit. Sometimes I feel like a burka is sexier than what I end up in.

(Some dude stole my glove...I can't remember why. Buttface.)

Our view after Christmas.



And Santa Paws was very good to Max, sending him all sorts of lovely things from California. A homemade bed, toy, a new squeaky friend (sadly beheaded before the week was out), and rawhide bones. Lucky dog. Thank You, Santa!



And we'll leave you with some pictures Sverre took with his camera--much better than mine, of course. He managed to catch three of the boarders heading out for a cold day's ride in the corner....


Can you see our youngest Thoroughbred racing her shadow?

Letting Off Some Steam

So one of the girls at the stable had a birthday party tonight. This, after nearly a year and a half in Norway, marks my first outing in a non-family environment. And it was fabulous. (Not to say that my family outings are not fabulous, since my sister-in-law throws a mean party.)

I can report, that a Norwegian birthday part is nowhere near as onerous as the Danish. See the Danish expat blogs for reference. There's not a lot of formality, and the only singing is the Norwegian birthday song. Which, after lots of alcohol, involves thirty something people singing, "Hardi hardiharhar flabidiblagflab Gratulerer!"

That's what I got from it.

But the real business got done after the cake was served.

See, the problem at the stable is that no one really understands the chain of command.

Enter, from stage left, the Sergeant.

I know the chain of command. I also know that the boarders at the stable are clients, not employees. A fine point that has passed entirely over the stable owner's head.

So my next plan of action will be to accept the owners' gracious invite for a dinner, and turn it into a tactical environment. I will need to establish that the owner can bring his problems to me, and I will disseminate his orders, de-screamed, down to the troops--I mean, boarders.

And, in turn, they need to bring their issues to me, and I will pass them on to the owner.

Because that's how it works, yo. It doesn't bother me if the owner yells at me, because after having the hardest TI at basic (admittedly, Air Force basic, so a cake-walk compared to the other branches), I'm not impressed with yelling until the spittle hits me in the eye. I know how to take responsibility for the actions of others, and I don't think he knows that. I don't think the boarders understand that I'm not an outside entity to take their concerns around. If we can establish this chain, life will be so much easier for all of us. Most especially because the owner has not figured out the delicate balance between client and a person who is subordinate to your orders. No, not at all.

Left, right, left mofo's. Sergeant Corinne is ready to take the Con.

We'll see how this all plays out when I'm sober.

Is it Saturday yet?

Oh, man. It's one of those weeks. One of those days.

I'm sure if you're a Norway-expat blog hopper you've noticed the running theme this week is the cold. And for a good reason. It's -13F (-25C) at my house right now. The water is frozen in the stable. The owner keeps giving me fucking science lessons over the phone about the heaters. Yes, I know heat rises. Yes, I know those heaters are set on a timer. I really don't give a shit dude, what I'm telling you is that the water is frozen and leaving the horses inside isn't going to do a damn lot of good. And you have to fix it. Not me.

This whole "divert responsibility by blustering on through tangents" thing is really starting to piss me off. Because it happens all the time. All the time.

Seriously.

So I haven't blogged in a while, and it's because of the busy-busy with the horses and with the holidays and getting our house guest ready. Soon, my dears, soon we'll be ready to actually entertain people because we'll finally have sufficient parking spots for rear ends and crash space. I can't wait!

And I've taken lots of pictures showing the loveliness of our house in winter. This is all forthcoming.

But in the meantime, the stress from all the cold-related BS has manifested in a massive crick in my neck. And I've had no coffee. I just want to cuddle with my puppy and my wool blanket and a coffee IV drip and watch movies all day. But, no. Must deal with the stable owner.

Whom, it must be said, so far has only dealt with Laid Back, Happy, "Sure, No Problem" Corinne. That version of me fled overnight with the incipient neck pain.

Poor bastard has no idea what he's in for.