Perhaps I Could Write a Book

Poor Dad. Up to his crazy tricks again. He's frail. Not as fragile as he was this time last year, thankfully, but still, not exactly healthy.

His doctor says he's physically great, but some TIAs have left him not mentally the best. Evidently, one or more of these TIAs have affected his frontal lobe, where our inhibitors are located. His anger center has already been affected, and now this. Asking every woman he meets if she'd go out with him, or let him move in with her. He is so harmless, but people who don't know him don't know that. The man can barely walk; how's he going to...(you fill in the blank, you lecher you).

There are so many sad things in his life, I think it would be great for him to actually meet someone who could care for him and be there for him for companionship, which is what he appears to really want. Watching TV with someone else, to share the sad scenes, the happy scenes, the nostalgic ones, et al, would give him a lot of happiness if not contentedness. Is that a word?

But here is today's story: We (BD1, BD2 and I) went to pick DOD up at 11:00 this morning to go get his new glasses (they are so darn cute!) and have lunch. The caregivers had seriously dropped the ball, giving him a "half-shower" as he called it, and getting him dressed in pants that were, well, they needed cleaning. He (due to TIAs) needs help tying his shoes. (Yes, I'm going to try to find some for him that don't need tying, but he likes his dress shoes.)

So, there I am, with my 2 BDs, re-dressing my father and tying his shoes for him. It wouldn't have been so awkward except for the part where we needed to change his pants.

This has all taken about 1-1/2 hours, and now my girls and I are starving. We had thought we'd be at lunch by this time, but didn't know how much needed to be done at Dad's. So, we went to lunch first.

2 hours later, we got through at the restaurant, and went to get his glasses. My daughters, I must say, were very well behaved for having to wait nearly an hour for Poppy to finish his lunch. BD2 has a cold, which takes away a little bit of her personal sunshine, and BD1, well, she's kind of grumpy anyways sometimes. So we were blessed with well-behaved girls.

Got the glasses (boy does he look good with them and his Seaman's cap), stopped by my house to get his package, (Thank you so much, Mrs. Second Daughter), and then took him to his home. Now it was 3:45, and very much time to let the dog out, try to work on the never-ending play room project and get some rest from lifting that wheel chair in and out of the car 5 times.

We got home; I tried to convince BD2 to lay down with me, and of course I fell asleep but she did not. BD1 came in to tell me about a phone call from Poppy's residence saying he wanted to go across the street to the Pharmacy. I asked if they were still on the phone, and she said no, so I figured it was just informational.

Well, at 6:00 pm, which is when I began to think about what to make for dinner, the phone rang. It was the Residence attendant, telling me that my father had tried to walk across the street with only his cane (not his walker, not his wheelchair, but his cane!), and was insisting he could do it, even though he had already nearly fallen a few times.

This is not all, oh no, this is not all. Evidently he "hijacked" the Residence's elevator, riding up and down with anyone who used it, refusing to get out of the elevator until he was given "permission" to walk across the street. The attendant didn't know what to do, and acted as if I would. I thought that was why she got the big bucks we are paying for him to be there. But again, as usual, I digress.

We convinced him to talk with me on the phone, and he said he'd missed dinner and wanted to go across the street for some food (a Taco Bell). I scolded him as if I was his mother, saying it would have been alright if he'd used his walker or wheelchair, but to try to use his cane when he can't stand up on his own was ridiculous. He was angry, but at least obliged me and said he'd go to his room when I said I'd bring him some dinner.

DH came home just in time for me to fly out, get dinner for Dad, go get cash, buy some junky fast food dinner for DH and BD1, come home and try to eat something. I finally got home at 8:00 so that my family could eat, and BD2 had already gone to sleep so missed dinner entirely.

Poor Poppy. I feel terrible for him, but he does provide entertainment!

Raul!

We spent a grand day at the water park on Tuesday.  We rented a cabana so the grownups could relax in the shade and have a few creature comforts.  The grownups happened to be the Babysitter's Mom and myself. The not-grownups included BD1, BD2, The Babysitter, her boyfriend, and BD2's boyfriend Younger Brother (to differentiate from Little Brother in the previous post).
 
So we rented a cabana.  Charming little girls brought us food and drink; all we had to do was raise our little yellow flag. A friendly woman walked by, saying, "Champagne, Ladies?" and we of course accepted. Alas, no alcohol is allowed in the water park.
 
Reminded me of the stressed plea my circle of friends has:  "Raul, bring me my wine, and massage my back, please!"  I kept asking, "Where is that Raul?" but no one answered. Another day, I guess.
 
 

With Friends like this...

Gotta get something off my chest. I sometimes wonder how I get enmeshed with certain people.
 
When BD1 attended kindergarten, I met a woman who had a son in kindergarten also. Her son attended the morning class and my daughter attended the afternoon class, so we saw each other and spoke briefly.  We began either having coffee together, or having our children play together and we'd talk, shop, or whatever; thus the "bloom" of a new friendship.
 
Our kidlets survived first grade, and my friendship grew with Ms. Texas.  Our families began to socialize together, going to events such as a Halloween "trick-or-treat" event at the local race track.  We had them and a few other couples at our home for a dinner on this past Valentine's Day, and had a great time.
 
Ms. Texas began to complain bitterly about her husband, calling him names, saying she wanted to leave, but didn't know how to start the process.  They are both recovering alcoholics and have been sober for about 20 years.  They've been married about 12 years.
 
Her children, now ages 9 and 7, the oldest a daughter, have both been diagnosed with ADHD or ADD.  They seem to be pretty mild as far as the stages of ADHD I've seen, but they do have their moments. The 9 year old, used to constantly ask to play with my BD1, and they played together a lot, sometimes at our home and sometimes at theirs. I felt they had a better time at their house, since they not only had a huge back yard, but a pool, a climbing structure, lots of room to run outside and play. All we have pretty much is video games, board games, and the neighborhood park, plus a few dolls.  Little Brother does not like anything but the video games, and all he wants to do when they come over is play these.
 
She had a few issues, too. She said she wasn't prejudiced, but hated hearing any Spanish. I teased her often about my not being able to speak Spanish around her lest her anger rise.  She also is a neat freak.  Now if you have been to my house, you know that I am not.  My husband would have a few things to say about the depths of my un-neatness.  But I'll not let him here. He can write his own blog.
 
I have listened to Ms. Texas complain about nearly everyone of her friends and family members.  This one doesn't pay her, that one is self-centered, the other one calls her and insults her, her son is fat, her daughter is uncontrollable and hard to live with, her husband is fat, stupid, yada yada. I wondered when my turn would come.
 
A few months ago, we joined their poker parties one Saturday of each month.  One particular Saturday, Ms. Texas could not join us as she had a camp-training weekend for her Girl Scouts troop, and she asked me to please "play hostess."  So, I did. One other lady at the party offered to help make the salad, and I gladly accepted the help. Then I found out she wasn't really able to cut a tomato.  So, I said, "may I show you how to do it quicker?" She handed over the tomato and I chopped it  up.  She said, "put me to shame" and walked away.  I thought about my action and realized it may have not been a terrific thing to do, and said so to her later in the evening. It was something to the effect of, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel bad about the tomato" and she pooh-poohed me, indicating to me that it wasn't a big deal. I specifically remember doing this.  I also remember making jokes that night about having to get in all the Spanish I could, because when Ms. Texas was back, I wouldn't be allowed to do that anymore.
 
Jokes. They somehow get me into trouble.  My turn was sooner to come than I thought:
 
Ms. Texas had asked me to help plan her daughter's birthday party. It was to be a campout, complete with tents in the back yard, toasted marshmallows, s'mores, games, stories, swimming, the whole 9 yards.  I gladly volunteered and looked forward to helping plan the party.
 
As the date of the party came closer, I noticed a distinct change in the way she spoke to me. Her attitude was much cooler toward me.  I asked her what she wanted me to do for the party, and she said that she had everything covered, and two ladies from her new church offered to help her.  I said, what about the cake? Did she have someone to make it? She mentioned someone from her church had said that she would make it. I asked about what I could contribute, and she said something along the lines of, "well, I needed someone who could do things my way and quickly."  I said ok, whatever.  She had asked BD1 and BD2 to come swimming while she got some preparations ready for the party, and I said, "Great! I'll help you!"  She said she'd rather do the stuff herself (would not even allow me to fill goodie bags.)  I realized I was there as the babysitter.  Ok, I thought to myself, at least I'm helping this way. But her tone was curt with me, and I felt hurt. Curt hurts. (oh, I'm so clever)
 
She had very graciously made my husband's life very easy while BD1 and I visited my good friend in Norway. She had made dinners for him, watched BD2 more than was originally expected, and DH and I planned on giving her some money for doing so much. She and I had on previous occasions discussed it, and it was my thought that she wanted me to trade with her when she & her dh went on an anniversary weekend to Las Vegas this coming November. I said, that'd be fine with me. After I returned from Norway, she asked me if we had agreed on $40. I didn't remember, but she reminded me that she had said she'd rather have some money to help her pay for her gym membership. I said, fine, whatever. I appreciated what she did for us, and dh and I had already decided to give her something for all her trouble ($100).
 
When I took the money to her, I asked her if everything was alright between us, and she said, "Fine, why?" I indicated to her that I had noticed a difference in her attitude toward me.  She denied anything different. I said, ok, as long as we are ok.
 
She phoned me two days later.  Boy oh boy, was everything NOT ok. She yelled at me for nearly 40 minutes (I would have hung up but it became somewhat entertaining to hear her complaints about me).  I had insulted her, been harsh to her children, offended her friends, gave other of her friends dirty looks, made too many Spanish jokes, made too many organizational jokes toward her, messed up her pantry (which one other guest and I did together, as a harmless practical joke--we put vertical about 10 of her horizontally organized canned foods), I had accused her of trying to kill my father with brownies, I was ungrateful and rude after she had gone overboard to make my dh's week without me as easy as possible, I was a spineless mother who goes too easy on my children, and I guess I am just an overall terrible person.  I tried to respond to these accusations, but it was to no avail. She said she had strong doubts, due to the above as well as our religious and political differences, that our relationship could survive. 
 
This flabbergasted me. I truly had no idea she was so angry at me. The only Spanish joke I can remember is the one I mentioned above. The brownies was a complete joke. In fact, I had expressed my great appreciation to her for both visiting my father while I was gone.  I apologized to her about hurting her friend at the poker party, and offered to phone her friend and apologize again, if Ms. Texas would give me Ms. Hurt's phone number. The statement about speaking Spanish in her home was again, a J.O.K.E.
 
So, now it's been a week, and at first I kind of smirked about it. Another good friend of mine and I talked about it that afternoon, and had a few good laughs about it. Plus now, this outrage at me has given us fodder for new jokes.  You see, my friend (who has been my friend for 32 years), is a Mexican, who owns two very successful business, and speaks less Spanish than I do.  Additionally, I remembered an ex-coworker teaching me the adage: "F**k'em if they can't take a joke." (We also said, "Joke'm if they can't take a f**k.")
 
But it keeps entering my mind. I wonder how many others I have inadvertently offended. I wonder what I might have said or exactly what was on my mind when I gave those perceived dirty looks.  Who else have I given dirty looks without knowing it?  I don't agree that I'm a bad person. I realize that my belief system may not be right for everyone, but Ms. Texas is the Super Christian, always talking about her love for the Lord, yet she was not willing to forgive me for my innocuous remarks or my slipups of manners? 
 
I'm hoping that anyone reading this whom I've offended will forgive me. I sometimes am fairly inept in verbal communications, but I write pretty well (I think).  Perhaps I ought to stick to the computer and not talk in person or on the phone anymore.  In writing, I have a chance to edit. When my mouth is open, I don't.  I try to think about what I'll say to a person, but I guess often it hasn't been just the right thing. So I'm apologizing, here, publicly, in hopes that I will be forgiven by someone who I may have hurt.
 
I started this 3-1/2 hours ago, and now it's nearly tomorrow, so I'm going to bed.

Soldi!

A hugeley clean thanks to my Nordic Goddess for suggesting salt in the dishwasher! I've never seen cleaner dishes!

No Diapers!!!

BD2 has done it!!  For two weeks, she has been waking up dry and using the potty.  She has had a few accidents, but mostly we've been prepared, and she's been just great!  We promised her a trip to the local water park when she's fully trained, and we'd better start saving our money quickly...she's well on her way.
 
YAY, BD2!!!  I was so very nice going into Target and not getting that huge box of diapers!
 

Thank You

Thank you so much to all who gave me good wishes about my back pain and my father's illnesses. I do appreciate the support.  My back pain is much better today; it's only a twinge now and then. I've decided to not see a doctor unless it lasts 'till next week.
 
Today is Finish the Laundry day, and swim lesson for BD2. BD1 loves her tennis classes, and has lessons every day this week for two hours each day. Next week she starts her swim lessons on Mondays and Wednesdays; and continues with tennis on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
 
Am babbling because there were a few things I wanted to post, but when I got to the blog I seem unable to put thoughts into comprehensive words.

Inspiration

My beautiful friend, the Nordic Goddess, is an inspiration to me.  She has the most upbeat philosophical attitude toward her illness I've ever seen.  Formerly, I have been inspired by Lance Armstrong's courage at not only beating cancer, but winning the Tour de France five times, and possibly six. (I didn't know until this morning he is not with his wife anymore, but that may be beside the point.)
 
With Lance Armstrong's fight for survival, and his success so far, I have certain hopes that my good friend will also beat her own devil of a disease. 
 

 

The Pain

On the right side, approximately in the middle (where I think the kidneys are located), I have had a moderate to severe pain in my back for a week.  It annoys me. I have too much to do to deal with this pain. I thought the pain began to lessen, then my second daughter awoke crying at midnight, and then at 1:00 this morning, and I took her into the family room to try to sleep on my lap on our sofa.
 
I tried for two hours after she fell asleep to figure out just how to extract her from my lap and carry her to her bed, and then, at 4:00, she awoke crying, saying she was hungry and thirsty. So, to the kitchen we went, for milk and cheerios.  After she ate, she said she wanted to go to bed now, so I helped her to bed (she decided she wanted to sleep on the floor since BD1 had fallen asleep on BD2's lower bunk, and I stumbled into mine.
 
At 6:30, I heard her happily get up to be with her dad before he leaves for work.  I dragged myself out of bed at around 7:00 and here I sit, with my back pain, barely able to lift my coffee mug (granted, it's a 20 ouncer) without cringing in pain.  It feels like a muscle strain, but it should have healed by now if it is indeed that.  Oh well, if it's not better by the end of the week, I guess I'll have to have a visit with the evil doctor.
 
Vicodin is wonderful, but depressing as it wears off. Not just because the pain returns, but because it has a depressant effect on me.  I take enough meds already; I don't want to take even more.
 
Other than that, life is truly wonderful!

 Just got off the phone with Poppy's therapist. He mentioned that my father has no will to live anymore. Poppy doesn't understand why "they" haven't taken him yet.
 
He misses Mom so much. It's been a little more than a year since Mom died. They were together 46 years. We buried her on their 46th anniversary, and her funeral was on Mother's Day.
 
My thoughts are so scrambled. I am also concerned about Poppy. He tells me that he is no longer interested in living. He is in pain; he cannot walk; his only pleasure is food, and he's diabetic, so is restricted to a diabetic diet. He loves the ocean and the beach, but his wheelchair is not compatible with the sand. I am his only child (poor him), and I have 2 of my own that have immediate needs. He is lonely, and if I don't visit him or take him somewhere, no one else does either. Once in awhile, someone from my mother's family will phone him, and even more rarely someone will visit. (This brings to my mind a whole suitcase of other baggage that I will not go into right now.) He loves conversation, but through several TIAs (small strokes), he has lost some of his speaking abilities. He can't get the words right, and his substitutions don't always make his stories any more clear.
 
My efforts to help him are thwarted by the needs of my daughters, my husband, my house, and yes, even my own foibles. For instance, this morning I need to get him to a doctor. I have made babysitting arrangements and that's really not a huge challenge. However, last week I pulled a muscle in my back while putting his wheelchair in my car, and the pain has only worsened since. Yesterday I could barely move. The pain is fairly strong, and it's one of a very few times I resorted to stronger pain meds than ibuprofen. Today, the pain is not much better, but a little. Now I have to put Poppy's wheelchair in my car for his doctor's appointment, help him into the car and out, in and out of his chair, and wheel him into and out of the doc's office. Poppy has graciously said he'd bring the walker, and I appreciate that very much, but now that means that it will take us approximately an hour longer than it does with the wheel chair because he must walk so slowly. Then there is the issue of lunch.
 
The appointment is near his lunchtime, so additionally I take him to lunch. That usually means at least an hour, because he has some dental problems and has to eat very slowly. If my girls are with me, while they behave for a long while, of course they get restless and want to do something else. Plus, the money is becoming an issue. His income pays for about half his rent, and his savings pays for the rest of the rent, and his medications. We pay for just about everything else (sorry, dh, but it is what it is, as you have said). That means that about $300/month goes to Poppy's expenses. We really don't have the kind of income needed to support these expenses, but so far we are managing.
 
But I digress. I am concerned for Poppy, and his lack of desire to live. I sometimes wish "they" would take him, as he would no longer be in misery, and would have his "reward" for his good, generous life. Now, don't go preaching on me, but I often think that if there is a loving god, wouldn't this god take this faithful servant and give him some peace? Give him back his speech, let him get well enough to walk a little more, get some of his so-called friends at his church to visit with him, encourage him, associate with him so he won't be so lonely?
 
Well, now that I've had my brain dump, I must get BD2 dressed, pick up BD1 from her class, take them both to the sitter's--that reminds me I need to pack their swimsuits--then go get Poppy, do the doc's and lunch, then take Pop back and perhaps drive 35 miles north so that BD1 and 2 can play with their much-loved friend Kaitlin.

At home with children

Well, I think I'm done with the Wedding and Party in Norway stories, so here's a little entry about my BD's.
 
(East Coast Editor--I've often wondered about the correct way to write that--a plural acronym.  Should it be BDs or BD'S or bd's or bds, or beautiful daughters?)
 
This morning, the "practice piano" rule got followed with me barely having to snap that parental whip. (No TV or games until her complete lessons are practiced--one half hour.)  Then, the smallest one asked me to make a tent for her from a blanket. So, I dutifully put a blanket over Poppy's walker and another chair, and she had a great time with it.  BD1 came in and began to play with BD2, enhancing my basic tent with more blankets and clips to connect the blankets for "doors" to the tent.  Then BD1 took BD2 into the other room, where she dressed #2 and herself in dress-up clothes.  They sauntered in, #1 in a purple princess veil and tiger patterned slides, and #2 with a fuschia pill box hat with sequins, and matching slides.  #2 said, "I'm the big kid and (#1) is the Mommy."  #1 then proceeded to saunter back out of the room, with #2 close behind her.
 
They returned in a few minutes with slices of cheese and Princess fruit snacks, to have a snack inside the tent. I pretended to not see them, but it was so adorable to watch #1 act out the role of Mother, including the frustration when #2 would not listen to her.  They were so cute together, and cooperated so well with their ideas about the tent, food, and clothing.  I felt very happy (had a real moment) to share in their play time, even if I only watched.
 
 

The Party

After arriving at the farm/cheese factory and inspecting our "limousine" for damage, we aimed ourselves into the hothouse.  This hothouse was phenomenal.  It nursed all kinds of tropical plants that one would definitely not expect to see in Norway.  It looked so beautiful with the lights and decorations, and we had the whole place to ourselves and the staff  for the wedding, as it was after hours for the shop. 
 
The feast laid out before us amazed us. Wine flowed freely, as did champagne, and exotic cheese and crackers  as appetizers.  We mingled, made introductions, and I took Sarah to the restroom to change into her ivory dress, since she wore casual clothes for the coach ride.  Her shoes matched her dress exactly.  When we returned to the party, I was unabashedly proud of the comments I heard as we passed (I have to throw in a little Motherly Pride here).  She did look rather pretty and Victorian.  The Groom, a perfect gentleman, offered to pose for a photo with her, and she was nearly giddy at being in the picture with him.
 
Oh--back to the food--If I remember correctly, there were several types of salads, a gorgeous salmon, roast beast, meats and cheeses for sandwiches, venison stew, pate, and oh, the desserts!  There were THREE cakes, all delicious. A friend of the bride's had decorated her cake in the likeness of a motorbike.  That was cool.
 
Time to sit down and get ready to eat--a lot!  Some speeches were made, the bride made a beautiful happy speech at the beginning, talking about her "Husband"--she did that all that day, the day before and throughout the party: "Have you met My Husband?" with strong emphasis on the word "husband."  It was adorable and endearing. 
 
While we ate, the other speeches came.  One speech in particular I thoroughly enjoyed: the one given by the Bride's "diminutive friend" who had graciously translated her speech into English so that I would understand it. I felt so grateful for that!  The other speeches, while in Norwegian, were better with each toast we made, and there were many! A group of women in Russian caps got up, passed around a song written in Norwegian, and sang to the Bride and Groom a song they had written to the Russian Anthem (?).  Then The Groom's father stood up and gave a speech which, by the look in his eyes, had to be so touching and filled with love.
 
After all the eating, it was time for dance music.  We had looked forward, the 3 adults, to seeing Kidlet and BD1 dance together, and the Groom had promised a dance with her, too.  Poor thing, she fell asleep at the dinner table.  The diminutive one found a couch to make her more comfortable, and BD1 slept for the rest of the evening's festivities.  I sat with her for awhile to make sure she didn't wake up, then walked around, spoke with several of the couple's friends and family, then returned back to check on Sarah.
 
These friends are terrific!  I felt so welcome in a sea of strangers! What beautiful friends! What a great support system my good friend the Nordic Goddess has and what great comfort that gives me.  I missed my own husband, and asked the staff if there was a way I could use a phone.  They gave their approval, but no one seemed to know the number to dial to access the United States.  So, the Bride happened to see me asking about it, and brought me to a very sweet partier, who also happened to be the "official" photographer, and who  happened to have her cell phone with international access with her.  She dialed the access number and very generously handed me the phone.  I got to talk with my Dear One for 15 minutes or so, describing Norway, the wedding, the guests, the farm, and everything I could think of, and told him BD1 fell asleep.  I missed him so very much at that point.  He said he was "finally" missing me, too.  harrumph. It took 3 days?? Well at least he did finally miss me.
 
Random observations...I could not for my life pronounce the names I heard, nor could I remember any of them since they were so "foreign" sounding to my ears (no duh).  I tried many times to pronounce and remember the Engineer's name, but gave in to just calling him Best Man or Engineer.  His presence was a delight--he even attempted to teach me how to dance in my cross trainers.  By the end of the evening, many women mentioned to me that they envied my shoes. That made me giggle.
 
Oh, and the most ingenious idea came from Kidlet. He wanted a new video game, and so, charged everyone 20 Kroner (I think that's a little less than $4 US) to use the toilets.  Clever little guy.  If you hadn't brought any money with you to the toilet, the look on his face was worth every penny and step to go back to your purse to get the money so he wouldn't look oh! so sad!
 
We left the party, mostly drunk and happy and somewhat tired, on the motorcoach.  There were 3-5 different traffic directors making sure the coach didn't go into a ditch or get scraped by the trees again.  It looked from the inside of the bus to be an insurmountable job.  Fences had to be moved; men stomped on the ground to be sure it was stable enough to support the weight of our bus (which seemed kind of not a reliable test, since the men barely weighed 180 lbs, and the bus weighed, what, a ton?); men placed their bodies in specific spots to make sure the bus didn't go there--it looked so dangerous.  After the driver and associates made the two sharp turns down the unpaved farm road, we were on our way back to downtown Oslo, to catch a taxi back to the house.  The Engineer and his beautiful counterpart, Ms. Radiologist, accompanied us to the taxi queue, and Mr. Engineer actually got us a van-sized taxi for us to take in front of all the other people in the queue.  I'm not sure how he did that, as everything was said in Norwegian, and no one in the line seemed to mind, but I was sure a grateful rider, and evidently snored on the way home, way in the back seat of the van where I curled up and fell asleep.
 
The taxi got us home, and by this time it was around 5:00 am or so.  The children went back to bed and snoozed; the 3 adults sat on the famous verandah, drank champagne, shared stories, and suddenly felt very tired.  What a great weekend it was, and it was only Sunday morning by now!  I slept so very well, and was unable to rise until after noon on Sunday.  At that time I learned that the Bride was ill, and needed to get to the Emergency Room. 
 
If you want to read the rest of this story, please see the entry dated Sunday, June 20, 2004, and titled "The Day After."
 
 

The Bride

Now I would be remiss as a wedding reviewer if I did not describe the glowing and lovely bride.
 
On the day of the Ceremony, she wore a simply elegant gold jacket (was that a Nehru collar?), that ended just below the hips, with a mid-calf length black skirt.    She was the picture of a radiant bride.  The groom wore a dignified dark suit with a white dress shirt and a gorgeous silver tie.  He looked pretty happy, too.
 
For The Party, the bride wore another simply elegant outfit: an ivory raw silk dress with a black shawl, and of course, the red "FU" jacket.  The groom was even more handsome this day than the previous day, with a rich-coco brown suit and matching tie, with a printed white dress shirt.
 
They were both just beautiful on both occasions, and their ring bearers were, too.  Kidlet looked so grand in his suit, tie and new dress shoes.  BD1 wore a light blue sheath dress with matching sheer jacket in sort of a chiffon to The Ceremony, and a short-sleeved silk dress in ivory with small taupe roses in front, and one large ivory rose in the back to The Party.  She was very cold for both occasions, but was loaned 3 or so coats and jackets in an attempt to warm her.

Back in time to Norway

So I left off at the day of The Party.

First of all, I apologize for jumping around in time. I am, however a stream of consciousness kind of writer. It doesn't always work for me as well as it did for Virginia Woolf, but it's what works for me.

A Norwegian Party:

We walked up the hill to the train. I was dressed except I wore my walking shoes as my dress shoes would have killed me if I tried to walk more than a few minutes. My dress shoes were safely stored in the "community" backpack that Karine so graciously packed.

It was a little less than an hour's train ride to the city, and we got to walk through the great Oslo Train Station, with shops, restaurants, banks, currency exchange offices, just about everything a person could want, including flowers, fresh fruits, and even a McDonald's. Karine most generously got the kids cheeseburger Happy Meals and they were both very happy and grateful. After the meal, we walked through the shopping area of Oslo, and passed several shoe stores. We even went into a couple of them. But I found the shoes offered to be too expensive for my American Pay Less Shoe Source mentality. The main reason I shoe shopped came due to my hostess's realization that she had not packed my shoes into the backpack. I really think it was my fault they got left behind; I didn't even notice them there on the floor in the entryway (mudroom?) as we walked out of the house. The Nordic Goddess felt so embarrassed, she offered to buy some new shoes for me. No way was I going to allow that. I figured I'd look the funky Californian with my nice blue dress and my newish cross-trainers anyway so I'd feed the stereotype of life in California. It's like a cereal: what is not fruits and nuts is flakes (from the early 80's--not very pc now, is it).

I wondered how much time it would take for the style of shoes in Norway to reach the US. I guess they are already here, and I just didn't know it. Very severely pointed toes and very, very high heels in lots of fabulous colors. Beautiful, but I don't think I'll be buying any very soon, since I have not worn heels that high since, well, let's call them my youthful days.

Enough about me. We walked through town and it began raining. We reached the Orient (K, is that close to the name of the pub?), and across the street waited our coach, with some friends already in attendance. How very organized and generous of our Hostess to have rented a coach, with bathrooms and alcohol (for drinking) plus soft drinks for the kids (all two of them) provided.

The ride seemed longer than the train ride, but we traveled through the marinas, through gorgeous hills and dales, and it was a great fun ride. K's sisters are a riot and it's easy to see how much they love their little sister.

We reached the entrance of the muddy farm, and the coach driver, who deserves applause for his expert handling of the huge vehicle, drove the narrow path to the farmhouse and shop. On one turn, we felt and heard a loud scraping noise. Evidently a tree had reached out and tried to slap the motorcoach, since the tree was not accustomed to having such large visitors.

We got to the farmhouse and the greenhouse where the party would take place, and we all had to get out of the vehicle and look at the damage. The driver had a great philosophy about it, and all the passengers seemed to enjoy the "surprise entertainment."

The party had truly begun.

They have Gone Home

Yesterday was a sad day for us. Our South Carolina Cousins left for their last stop before they fly home. They ought to be home by now, after a red-eye across the country and then a 3 or 4 hour drive through the rainy southeast to their home.

Continuing where I left off, we stayed at the studios so long, looking around and shopping, that when we got home it was already nearly 4:00, and too late to visit Soak City. We kind of hung out until dh got home and then ate dinner. After dinner, we picked up Poppy and took him out for dessert. By then it was already late, so I drove them to their hotel and took the long way home, down the coast.

Cousin M and I went through some of my mother's jewelry and we decided on a few pieces for her and my Aunt Nana. I do hope they both like what they received. There are a few things reserved for my Uncle Papa and Cousin C, but they may have to wait a while.

The next day, I had several errands to run, and the cousins wanted to sleep in anyway, so at noonish, we went and got Poppy (Dear Old Dad) and headed out for a little beach restaurant at the end of the river that feeds to the ocean. The kids ate fast and got to play in the sand for awhile. I explained to the adult cousins that this place in the river was where we laid a wreath to honor my mother's love of the sea.

After all the grown ups but Poppy had finished their lunches, the cousins took the kids to the ocean for awhile, so that J could stick his feet one more time into the Pacific Ocean.

Again I took the long way home, trying to delay my cousins' departure for as long as I could. We got Poppy home, then got to my home, and they gathered their things. After a few minutes, I sadly watched them drive down the road toward the airport from where they would return home.

sniff. sniff sniff.

To My Writing Friends

Or should it be "writhing"?

The subject of book titles came up very recently. My Michigan Teacher friend has a wonderful title for her book, which I will not state here lest some stranger to my circle of friends lift it. This made me think about something my mother and I used to do.

When we would drive somewhere, or at any time during the day, really, we would try to come up with "best selling" book titles. I wish we had written them down, because some of them were quite good. Every day when I shower, as I'm squeeging my shower doors that have dolphins on them, I see straggler water drops and think, a book my mom would like is, "No Tears for the Dolphins"--it could be an environmental story, an American Football story, or a kids' book. I wish I could stop thinking that title.

Do you have any book titles you'd like to share?

Another mental exercise that Mom and I did was to come up with Great First Lines. Now I think I've seen some book published about this before, but we used to just see what we could think of as first lines besides, "It was a Dark and Stormy Night" Which brings me to another book title: "It was a Dark and Stormy Night and Other First Great One Liners" May be too long, but it helps tie in my two mental excercises.

Trivia tests on the Web

You are the Empress card. The Empress is the
archetype of the Mother. She creates and
nurtures life. She represents the abundance of
Mother Earth. The Empress is capable of using
nature in a productive way. She espouses art
for art's sake. Her planet is Venus, and she
embodies love of beauty and a strong value
system. Here is also found initial sensation.
This is the first really physical experience of
the world that The Fool has entered. The
Empress has a rich understanding of the world
based on her five senses. In a reading, The
Empress represents pregnancy, actual or
metaphorical. She indicates an act of creation
and a sensual experience of beauty. The Empress
is a nurturing force that wishes to see the
product of her experiences reach the next stage
of development. Image from A Photographic Tarot
http://www.bluewitch.com/healingtarot/healtar.htm
Deck


Which Tarot Card Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Just one of the many quizzes I see on the Everything Maven from Livermore's blog, and the East Coast Editor's blog as well. They are fun, don't mean a lot to me, but are interesting. I'd be curious to know if my friends think the above assessment fits me or not. Not being familiar with Tarot Cards or that whole side of life, I'm not sure exactly what it all means. Who is the Fool? Metaphorical pregnancy? I needed some options such as to pick more than one response to some of the questions. Oh well, try it if you like for yourself, or not.

Visitors!

Yet another time out from my Norway Stories, to say, "There Here! There Here!"

They, my cousins from South Carolina, who to me, are more like my brother and sister-in-law, plus their darling son (my "nephew"--oh, don't get technical on me) J, got here Saturday at noon, and we have had such fun with them ever since.

Saturday night we ate dinner at our favorite beach seafood restaurant, Walt's Wharf, and stuffed ourselves silly with ahi, halibut, leeks and carrots, salad (only one "l" for me) or really great clam chowder, and oh, those delicioso oak-grilled artichokes with the dipping sauce that makes you crazy it's so good.

Our guests were fairly tuckered, so we sent them to their hotel, with the ocean view, the Long Beach Hilton to get some sleep. We were so happy that my Dear Old Dad could join us and enjoyed himself very much. He was so happy to see his nephew that tears welled up in his eyes. He loved watching the children interact at dinner (all 7 of us "kids"). He was a little confused at first, introducing Cousin as his brother, but we got that all straightened. I think he'd love a visit from his brother, too.

We rented a behemoth SUV to fit all 8 of us. The men liked it very much--it was big and all of us fit plus a little cargo space for either a wheelchair or a stroller (not both)

7 of us visited Disneyland, and had a great time. A few hours into our visit, we saw some friends of ours and they joined us as we trekked across to Disney's California Adventure (DCA). All day, we commented to each other how wonderfully the 3 kidlets got along with each other. Especially my BD1 with their J. They acted like an old happily married couple, talking, laughing, running, and riding rides together. J was not too thrilled with the Hollywood Tower of Terror, but said he liked Splash Mountain, the Matterhorn, Haunted Mansion, Winnie the Pooh, and best of all he liked Soarin' Over California.

We got home at 11:00 pm, and sent them on their way to their hotel.

Today, being the Disney Family that we are, we plan to take them to the Feature Animation Studios to eat at the commissary and get a glimpse of the studio and sets, and perhaps somebody famous eating at the commissary. Maybe even buy souvenirs at the newly designed Disney Store.

After that, we tentatively plan to take the kids to Soak City for the afternoon. Ok, enough advertising for southern California amusements and accommodations. Time to get ready and go pick up our guests and take them to lunch.

So, I ought to write about Norway

I'm not sure how much of my version I've already shared, so instead of going back and doing research to find out, I'll start over.

I remember writing about the flights, so I won't repeat myself except to say that we LOVE Jet Blue. Great staff, great "mystery snack", great tv's with satellite on the back of each seat.

We easily got through Brussels customs, and since Norway is part of the EOC, there was no need to go through customs at Oslo's airport. In fact, not one person was stationed at the customs desk, and we walked right through to the terminal exit.

There waiting for us was the most beautiful sight. A smiling happy Karine. We embraced and got into the rented car that she had most generously obtained, and took a drive through the countryside to her home. We managed to stay up until about 8:30 pm Norway time--well I did; Sarah crashed about an hour before me.

First impressions of Norway: Landscape is so green. What a marvellous place to see everyday! What a great place to be now! Even if it was cloudy, it was gorgeous. I hadn't seen so much green in years. And the Lupines!! nearly three feet tall, and so many colors! They sprouted out of the ground shocking the green into an even more beautiful landscape. I wish I could paint. That's what I would paint and hang above my desk so that I could still see it every morning. I wish I'd taken more pictures of the lupine that sprung up everywhere...then I could just photoshop it and use it as a wallpaper.

Roundabouts! I lived in England for a short time, so I remember those, and there is one not far from where I live now, which wreaks havoc with people's nerves here. K was disappointed that the car we hired had no power. Even for a 5-speed manual transmission, she said it was gutless and mentioned that having some guts was the reason she had specified a Golf. Now I felt a little embarrassed, because when we were signing rental papers for the car, I opened my big mouth and said, do we get a free upgrade? (half-jokingly, but I always try it. Most times it even works!). Well, we got the upgraded car. Yup--the gutless one. A Suzuki something or other.

First impression of the soon to be married couple's house: What a beautiful home! I couldn't wait to see the inside, and for those of you who saw the Mom's Spa Weekend of 2002 house, K's house rivaled it. Beautiful wood everywhere--on the floor, on the walls, and even, on the third floor where Sarah and I slept, on the ceiling. It was a beautiful honey color that warmed the whole house.

When we got inside, I had to see "The Verandah". It is everything and more that I had imagined. What a gorgeous view. I do kind of remember writing about this before, so I won't go on and on about it, although I miss that verandah nearly as much as I miss hanging out with the K and fam.

When we arose the next day, it was the Day of The Event. After a very restful relaxing morning (which I didn't understand, since the Bride to be was so relaxed and concerned for our comfort), we got ready to ride in M's beautiful car to the courthouse. It was black and felt so elegant. Much nicer than my 11-year old dented and bumpy jalopy.

We parked and walked the so-called "short-walk" to the courthouse. I had not worn any kind of heels for several months, and only stood in them for a little while then, so walking on cobblestones with my new $2.50 slides (am I cheap or what?), challenged me. I don't think my hosts noticed--I tried to walk behind them the whole way. Sarah looked quite nice in her little blue dressy dress with the matching jacket. It was cold, and this dress was made for the summer, so she got to wear a sweater and her turquoise rain jacket, too, which you will see in the wedding pictures more than her dress.

K and M introduced Sarah and me to the official witnesses to the marriage. The best man, his lady-friend, and the maid of honor (best maid?), K's diminutive friend, who I can assure you is statuesque in grace and personality.

Time to go in and get to business...

The ceremony was really very nice for a civil ceremony. K glowed, and dressed in a simply elegant outfit of a black skirt and a goldish shimmery jacket. M really cleans up nicely, too...Had never seen him in a suit, and um, without embarrassing myself again, looked downright gorgeous. Joakim, our Dec Baby of 7-1/2, looked even more grown-up and handsome in his dark suit and tie. He is just a beautiful child.

After the ceremony, done completely in Norwegian, so they could have actually said anything, we walked next door to lunch. No matter what Karine says, the lunch was great. The food tasted great, the decor beautiful, and the company was simply grand. I thought the service was relaxed to allow us ample time to "dine" rather than scarf the food and get out. We were nearly the only party in the restaurant, so I thought the nearly invisible service added to the ambience. My darling daughter, fell asleep in the booth--she couldn't take it anymore. After 19 hours of flying, and I think only a few hours of sleep, she was exhausted. Poor Joakim had no one to play Thumb Wars and Rock Paper Scissors with anymore.

We took a suspiciously short walk back to the car. I wondered if they had given me the "scenic" tour of the city in our previous walk. M drove us home, K insisted on sitting in the back seat with the children, who promptly fell asleep with both their heads resting on her shoulders. I took several pictures of this sight.

After the children were snug in their beds, the three adults sat on The Verandah and drank some wine together to further celebrate the Event. K was so adorable: she kept saying to nearly everyone and over and over again--by the way, have you met my husband? They love each other so very much and it's easy to see it just by looking at them together. I am so very honored and privileged to have been permitted to share the celebration.

Next time, The Party

time to work

Well, the girls are both awake, and expecting a playmate, so it's off to work I go (in the house). Today is supposed to be a beach day; if the clouds ever go away, maybe we'll go.

Will have to update the blog about Norway later this evening.

An Hour of Free Time

What to do with an hour? The husband (dh) just left for work, the dog has been walked, the girls (bd1 and bd2) are not out of bed yet, and so I have a little bit of time to do whatever I want and postpone the real work day for awhile. What do I do? My choices:

read one of the 7 books I've started

go through that box of paperwork on the front room floor

cross stitch

play mindless computer games

update my blog (here I am)

write letters

oh crap, I could just start right into the day and fold laundry

play mind numbing computer games text twist and spider solitaire)

be a mom and make chocolate chip pancakes that bd2 won't eat
be a mom and make French toast that bd1 won't eat
be a supermom and make both

sit and be overwhelmed at all there is to do and play mind dulling computer games

Drink coffee and stare out the front room window until the girls awaken

What would you do?

Maybe I ought to get my coffee and post more about Norway