And It Was Plain To See

It's a good thing, knowing where your heart is.

There was a time when it wasn't so easy, when I kept wondering where I'd put it.
Like a pair of gloves left on the bus, or the keys to your house hiding in the wrong jacket.
I'd search a little and move on, hoping that it would turn up.
Hoping it wouldn't be at some place really bad.
Hoping that my carelessness wouldn't break it in half or scratch it, mark it.
Make me lose it.
But it was ok.
In the end it turned up.
Pretty much where I'd left it the first time.

It's a good thing, knowing where your heart is.

All Work, All Play

It's a busy week. The good kind of busy.
Such a good feeling, working when it's not feeling like work.
I wish there was a way of applying this to my running.
Run run run, I guess that's pretty much the only way to do it.
Maybe tomorrow.
Ahem.
If there's not too much work.
Ahem.

Reach Out And Touch Faith

I spent the weekend singing.
It changed pretty much everything.
Now, can I please go to sleep for a week?
This whole baring-your-soul-thing is exhausting.
Eva, Marith, Stella, Tove, Linnéa, Maria, Åsa, Kristina, Annicka, Elin, thank you.
Thank you forever and ever.
You changed pretty much everything.

Have A Good One

It's Friday night and the fire is lit and dinner is finished.
We are watching a little tv, some of us, and drinking our coffee
and enjoying the quiet, some of us.
Wilhelm wanted something to drink and Blanka just surprised him
with lukewarm tapwater. In a sippy cup.
To each his own.
It's Friday night and we are tired and it's raining and it's perfect.

Twelve On Tuesday

Picked W up too early from school, forgot all about art club (sorry, miss Liselotte!).
Wrote something really good.
Let J read it without embarrassment.
Made it to bookclub (had some excellent chocolate as well).
Worked hard at pilates. Still fell down from the damn ball.
Enjoyed it just the same.
Read to the kids while they were drawing.
That's drawing and reading in front of the fireplace. Major Laura Ingalls moment.
Thought about Christmas.
Thought about Wilhelm's birthday.
Thought about calling grandma.
Decided it was time for something else (can't remember what now, so I think we can safely say that that "something" was nothing more than me procrastinating).

Still, it was a good one. Thanks and goodnight.

Hello From Over The Hill

I'm feeling very homestead-y these days. Very Laura Ingalls (or Caroline, more like it). It's the change of season and all the getting ready, I think. I'm stocking up on things to do when the weather's making us stay inside. Card games, glue that actually works, new pens. I'm filling the shelves with applesauce and cider, with jars of dried mushrooms, with gazillion boxes of Barilla pasta. We live five minutes from the supermarket, so the need to stock up has nothing to do with logic or even sense. I just like to do it. Wrapping apples in newspaper, so they'll last until Christmas. Buying a whole lot of potatoes, just to make sure we don't run out. I know. I sound so boring, it's amazing I have any friends at all. But here's the thing. I've always been like this. Always. I was the same at seventeen and at twentyfive. The difference is, I just don't feel the need to hide it anymore. Yeah, it's good to be a little bit older. Especially for a sixtyfive year old bird like meself.

(And since having kids I can consistently blame my flee market finds – a scale! for playing store! a cardboard game! four old books! – on them. They help a lot with making me seem like a normal person. Thanks, you guys!)

Hot Chocolate Instagram

The cold came this morning. The first frost this weekend. Lists have been made, with some things crossed off and others waiting to happen. We're getting ready. The last two winters have been fairytale winters, if you're feeling that way, or nightmarish, if you're leaning towards the other. Starting early, lasting long, masses of snow, temperatures dropping to Russian levels. So this year we're getting ready. Gearing up. Making the lists. And I can't help but wonder, will this be the year when we have nothing but darkness and rain for four months? Oh well. We'll know soon enough.

And Then A Hero Comes Along

Yes hello, this is me doing my "It comes very natural to me, being both serene and fabulous while looking into the great unknown accompanied by this snow leopard" look. All for the benefit of my reader(s). Enjoy!

Yes, well, sorry about the Whitney Houston. No wait, let me rephrase that (why should anyone ever be sorry about Whitney Houston? Sorry for, maybe, but's that's another blog post entirely). Let's start over. Sorry about the cheesy headline (yes, much more appropriate), but MAN did pinkshoeknits save the day today. Man! You see, I had just given up. I was just about to finish this thing up and then BAM! New and appreciative reader appears as if sent from above. Deus ex machina! (This little piece of Latin is for my beloved Ansjo, who enjoys a literary high school reference once in a while. Not that she ever reads this blog, but I digress.) Anyway. There I was, feeling sorry for myself and the fact that my humongous literary talent (not to mention the very artsy iPhone photos) (iPhone 4 that is, as you probably can tell, even sadder, huh?) is all but being ignored by the masses and thinking that enough is enough and let's call it a bloody day already. And then BAM (as previously stated), there she was. BAM BAM BAM. And so here I am. Back and back and back and you can't stop me and I will NOT GO QUIETLY INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT. God, you hate her now, don't you? Poor pinkshoeknits. But I love her! I will always love her! I will be saving all my love for her! It will be the greatest love of all! Oh, I wanna dance with somebody! No, seriously, I do.

Just realized that if "Then a hero comes along" isn't a Whitney Houston song, this post pretty much lose all the "fun". Especially the discography of the last sentences above. Oh well, can't be helped. My love is your love and so on.

As Previously Stated PART 2

You can't really tell from this picture, but this day the waves were big and came crashing in with a magnificent thunder and we jumped and surfed and jumped and surfed and laughed so hard we almost couldn't breathe.


Oh, and there were sheep and chickens and a few cows in the olive grove right behind the hotel. And kittens. Yep. That place had it all.


Everyday held at least an hour of this. Siesta. Magic word, magic time.


Vue Panoramique Obligatoire. Am tourist. Will shoot from balcony.


The weather took a turn for the worse on our last day, but we didn't mind. It made for interesting light.


And it didn't stop us from swimming. Yes, we swim now.


Goodbye Crete! It was lovely. Hope to see you again.

Our Greek Week In 12 Really Bad And Very Touristy Photos PART 1

The inflight entertainment: One Nintendo, one hedgehog. Oh, and Wilhelm got to shake the captain's hand before takeoff. The hedehog hoarder was more into folding her tray up and down.


From plane to pool, where we spent most of our Greek week. This is the only photo I can show you though, since Blanka sported nothing more than her birthday suit for most of the time and I simply cannot expose you to our Swedish indecency like that.


The kids made friends in like two minutes and (thank you, Lord) the friends' had very nice parents who took all sorts of good care of me. Thank you, Lisa and Johan!


Please don't fall into the abyss, child of mine. Your father will be most upset with me.
Oh, how I wish that I could show you the beach and the waves and all. But all photos contain naked Swedish children, and half of them aren't even my own, so no. You'll have to picture the sand and the little crabs and the shells all by yourself.


It was a very good week. A brilliant week. The iPhone photos taken in 34°C heat and blaring sunlight don't do Crete any justice at all. But trust me, it was good. Ok, stay tuned for part 2 of Our Greek Week In 13 Really Bad And Very Touristy Photos!

Patience

It's not that I don't have it.
It's more of having used up so much in the last months that it's now wearing very thin.
And all of a sudden I just want to snap.
I feel an actual urge not to be patient.
Yeah, I know.
It has backfire written all over it.
So I take a breath.
And then we start all over again.
It's getting old. It's really getting old.

You Know It's Bad

You know it's bad when your mother calls you up and says there's something wrong with the blog. Sorry. Had to take a break and forgot to let you know. Will be back this afternoon with more than you've asked for, you poor bastards. Posts will fall from the sky like chestnuts plopping out of their shells. Watch them headz.