Go Is For Gotland

Gotland is different. Sweden's largest island.
Home to sheep and tourists and gotlänningar.


The light is different. The weather, the smells, the grass.


The roads are different. Limestone gravel reflected the light,
even in late evening.


It's late September, but somehow the sun wouldn't set.
Felt like summer.


I left the camera at home and took all photos with the iPhone.
That was different as well.


Sommarens sista ros. So fragrant, I wanted to pick it.
Then thought better of it.
Being in the boss's garden and all.


The light on the pebble beach before the sun sets gave everything a purplish hue.
Cold and warm at the same time.


I stood on the moor all alone. It was vast. So was the ocean, waves crashing in at my side.
Still, I felt anything but small.


When the sun set there were whole roasted lamb and local vegetables to feast on.
After ten years without meat, lamb is almost impossibly good.
More to follow. Thanks for stopping by.

If You Don't Know Me By Now

You will never ever never know me.

But then again, if you do. You will watch this and know that I'm hardly standing upright now. I'm blushing, I'm short of breath, I'm happyhappyhappy. The king is back! Aaron Sorkin, man of my dreams, you brilliant brilliant brilliant person you. I can't wait. I can't wait.

I Wrote Something

a while ago. I think I told you about it. Today a reporter picked up on the story (Swedish only, sorry).
And thanks to her it's been a very good day.
When you write for a living it's easy to lose track of what's good and what's not.
It's a job, it pays the bills, it's what I do.
But then someone actually reads something you wrote and likes it.
And you get a high that's better than anything.
Last night I felt like nothing. Today I'm on top of the world.
And do I like it! I love it.
Thank you, friendly stranger.
Thank you everyone who cheered me on today.
Turns out I'm a writer, after all.

Photo from last weeks conference at Gotland. A whole other story.

September Seems To Work For Me

Zeta's in September 2009 and in 2010. And the pictures really don't have anything to do with this post.


The rythm of our days has changed and I am changing with it.
I find myself enjoying things I used to avoid, looking for ways to have more of what I thought I'd had more than enough of before.
It's like the beginning of a new year, though my calendar says something else.
I feel new.
I feel excited.
Like when you have a secret that noone knows but you and it's a good one. (No, I don't, and no, I'm not.)
But it's the same feeling.
Like I've discovered something.
Found a new way of doing things.
And it works.
God, it's a good feeling.

Sunday

We went to Tyresta again. I said to the kids that we would go somewhere fun when Jesper was back from work. They choose a walk in the woods. I'm still baffled.


There were mushrooms everywhere. The edible kind as well. But the dangerous ones are so pretty! Blanka wanted to pick them all.


We stopped for coffee and cookies carried in Wilhelm's school backpack. He told me what he saw and asked me about lions, and tigers and bears, oh my.


He rode his bike 5 k. A very big deal – for him as well as for us. And we had three hours together surrounded by beauty almost impossible. It was a good Sunday. Last night I had many thanks to give.

Hello Friday

The weather keeps playing tricks on us.
Inevitably it rains when I ride my bike and stops when I'm inside.
Will buy some kind of suburban mother raingear today.
Will look like suburban mother wearing it.
Yay.

But Friday is here and all is well in the world.
I hope this will be a good weekend for you.
And me.
Thanks for reading.

Mommy, Look!

It's dinosaur teeth!

Blanka at the dentist's yesterday. Her first visit!

In Transit

The second week, or is it third already?, of our new routine.
I rise before Jesper for the first time in years. After showers and getting dressed, there's just enough time to drink some tea in silence before we wake up the kids.
Clothes to wear ready on the counter, hairbrush and elastic and bobby pin and tooth brushes and tooth paste, school bags packed, wellies for Blanka, fruit for Wilhelm.
At seven twentyfive I'm out the door.
The three of them still at the table, eating their breakfast, talking about birthdays.
I ride my bike to the the métro station and the sun is shining and my skirt is a little short, but the nylons are thick and help. At eight I'm at work. At nine the office start to wake up around me. And now, at nine thirty, it's time for my first coffee of the day.

My decision to work a little less is not a dramatic one. But I'm starting to feel a change that is bigger than I had anticipated. I don't know where it will take us, but I like the feeling of it taking us somewhere. We're on the road.

Legacy

My father is a storyteller. The one who taught me that every character in a story has a voice of their own.


There's a story he now tells my children, that his grandfather used to tell him when he was a boy. About aviator Kalle Andersson. The best pilot in the world. This story was born in Boden in 1952.


When I was little I always wanted to know more about Kalle Andersson's girlfriend, the lovely Jessica Pelp (a secretary). Wilhelm and Blanka are more interested in the scarier parts, engines catching fire, lions attacking, mayday mayday!


"Tell me a Kalle Andersson, tell me a Kalle Andersson!" they'll beg him. And he will. If they're sick he'll do it over the phone. If he's not there, my mother will do it for him. When I was little he would tell me the story early Saturday mornings. I'd rest on his arm and dream that one day I'd have children of my own to hold in bed and tell stories on cold September mornings.

A family of storytellers.

Perks

The new regime includes early mornings at the office. That just might turn out to be ok. Today, apart from the view and the mist that covered half of my city in white, young Kristofer was making mushroom omelette for breakfast.
Perks, my dears. Obvious perks.

Remember The Missus?

She just came home from a week in Shanghai. And I'm swimming in a sea of Marc Jacobs – thanks to her remarkable generosity and my talent for telling her how much I've missed her. God, it's good to have a wife.

As Of Monday

I will spend a lot less time at the office and a lot more with these two. I've already had time to question the wisdom of my decision (Dear Lord, grant me patience and built-in earplugs), but somewhere deep down I'm very happy (it was just really difficult to spot that happiness yesterday after school).
I will not be more of a mother than I am now.
I will not be better.
But I will be there.