Yo-yo

I am thinking about getting a yoyo.

Snow tires and saving money

Let me first of all make one thing clear: I do not change the tires on our car. My husband does. Not because we are a family where we divide domestic chores in a traditional/conservative way - because we don't - but let's just say that I once had a bad experience with changing tires on my parents' car, and since then I've let others handle that particular task.

My husband doesn't particularly like changing tires. He does it, and he does it without complaining, but he doesn't like it. So when I saw this add in the newspaper that it was possible to have the tires changed at a car store today for next to no money (NOK 25 per tire), I figured this could be something good for the enTIRE family.

So we brought our two sons,went to Auto23, filled out a registration form, and were shown into a cafeteria were we could wait, since it probably would take something like 1,5 hours. Oh, what a delight. In the cafeteria they were serving waffles, Christmas cookies, chocolate, pizza, coffee and soda. FOR FREE! So, with three persons able to eat and drink, it didn't take long before we had gotten our money's worth in food and drink alone, long before the snow tires were on. And when our car was ready, there was a goody bag on the front seat, containing even more stuff, ranging from pens to perfume samples.

Ahh, the feeling of saving money. There's not much that can beat it. And yes, I'm sure Auto23 achieved what they wanted too - a possible future customer with a quite positive view of their store.

The art of whispering

Today I attended a course. It was quite a good one, an English course about India. Well, to be painfully truthful I only turned up for lunch at 12, and stayed until 2, but I swear it was a good one. I just didn't have time for more. The pressure of being a breastfeeding mum etc.

Anyway, sitting there in the auditorium with two of my colleagues watching a Bollywood movie, I was once again reminded that there are people among us who do not know how to whisper. This time it was one of my colleagues speaking to my other colleague. In something far from a whisper. And she seemed to have lots on her mind.

I was glad I had to leave.

Picture taken from http://popartmachine.com

It's a tie!

I turned 33 this month. The next time I will have an equally satisfying birthday is when I turn 44. Until then it will all just be a bunch of away wins and then a few home wins, until I again will experience the ultimate pleasure of a new tie. Ahh, I cannot wait!

Bulldozers and stolen cars

This spring in my hometown, people were awoken by the sound of this bulldozer at 5.30 in the morning. It was a man in his early twenties who according to the local newspaper "went berserk" with it, and, among other things tore down a tree, a brick wall and a fence. I found the story quite amusing. When I went to my parents' house this summer, I realized that the tree that was torn down was in our very own backyard! It had not quite fallen to the ground, it was merely, still, in the process of falling, and if so should happen, ruining my parents' rosebushes. This made the story even more amusing.

When at my parents' house, something else occured. My parents' car was stolen. Well, I would say that "stolen" is a bit of an exaggeration. See, it is my brother who uses the car, and for some reason he always leaves the key in the ignition. So also this particular evening, outside the local bowling alley. That someone couldn't resist the urge to take this 97' Mondeo stationwagon for a spin then, is only too understandable, and could hardly be called theft.

Well, before the car was even reported stolen, my parents received a phonecall from the police, who could tell that the car was found, with the stealer/spinner passed out in the driver's seat. The roadtrip had come to a sudden stop because the person who took the car clumsily enough had filled gas on it instead of diesel. And as far as owning up to his crime, the driver admitted to having taken the car, so summa summarum this turned out to be a sunshine story (apart from the hassle with removing the gasoline).

Ok, so here we have two quite amusing stories. But it is about to become even more amusing. As it is, the person who went berserk with the bulldozer and the person who stole the Mondeo is the very same guy! So, what is it - does he have it in for my family or something? Well, I don't know. And, frankly my dear, I don't give a damn. My dad, on the other hand, being a very kind man, felt sorry for this guy whose background was quite turbulent, and came up with the great idea of just giving the car to him, since he obviously did not own his own vehicle. A nice and noble idea, but the guy turned out to not have his driver's license, so we all figured it wasn't such a smart move after all.

A nice summer it has been, filled with vandalism, grand theft auto and amazing grace.

Trash, trampoline and the party girl

I really only have the title. Isn't it the most wonderful title? Trash, trampoline and the party girl. I love it. Unfortunately it is not my own title - it's Bono's. You should listen to the song - it makes you want to jump on a trampoline. My beloved flatmate of two years (98-Y2K) said it when I played the CD once: "I feel like jumping on a trampoline!" And this was without any knowledge of the title, and without the word trampoline being mentioned in the text. That's the power of the beautiful, beautiful Trash, trampoline and the party girl

Midsummer blues

I don't know why I haven't blogged about this before, at this point it seems a somewhat uncurrent affair. Anyway, I'll take my chances, although we've already reached what is almost mid-July.

Norway, as you know, is blessed with long, light summer nights. Already in the very beginning of March, it is pretty light pretty late and pretty early, and this goes on well into August. Still, this never fails: Each year, around the 22nd of June, I am suddenly hit by a wave of depression. Actually, I don't want to offend those who are really diagnosed with depression, which I am not, so let's modify it to struck by a sudden feeling of sadness. Why am I sad when the summer is at its highest and the days at their longest? Because this is it, of course. This is as good as it gets. This is when the sun turns, and, although slowly, the days start getting shorter and shorter, until there is hardly any daylight left. And so I have my midsummer blues. And to tell you the truth, I don't really lose that feeling until we are approaching Christmas, and the whole process once again is reversed. From then on things only get better.

When I am writing this, I realize what a complex person I really am. You see, the thing is that I kind of prefer the dark. The endless summer nights are stressful. I mean: Vi skal ikkje sova burt sumarnatta and all that. You can't go to bed when it's light, the kids definitely don't want to go to sleep, and when you (for some reason) wake up at 5 or 6 or some other ungodly time, it's so light outside that you can't seem to go back to sleep again.

So why do I get my midsummer blues when the sun turns? I don't know, but I do.

Motherhood and other trivialities

I'm really having trouble finding stuff to blog about. My friend Thugnanny, who has been even worse than me when it comes to blogging, has suddenly produced something like five blog entries in no time at all, whereas I have nothing. One should think that I had plenty of things to blog about. Like for instance the fact that I gave birth to my third child less than three weeks ago. But let's face it - who likes to read all those crappy blogs about babies and motherhood? Well, mine would of course be different: funny, interesting and perhaps also thought-provoking (haha), but still, the idea of me blogging about motherhood is somewhat alien. And besides, I don't blog about stuff that matters - I only blog about trivial stuff. And giving birth is not trivial. It is something else that start with a "t" - TERRIBLE! I mean, it is the worst pain you can imagine. Strike that - it is the worst unimaginable pain. So be it that it only took two hours from my arrival at the hospital until the kid was out - those were the most painridden two hours of my life. They say you forget the pain when the baby is out. I will tell you the truth - you don't. So, I am the proud mother of three, but that's it. I have had it with the pain.

Whaddayasay - I actually managed to blog about something close to motherhood and babies. That's a good girl!

Sofas and slackers

We got our new sofa two days ago. Finally, I should say, because it certainly took its time. Buying it in the beginning of January, we were promised it delivered by the end of the same month. January coming to an end, they called us from the store saying that we unfortunately had to wait another 3-4 months, since the shipment of sofas that had arrived from China contained only couches assembled the wrong way. A lousy discount was all we were offered. Or the opportunity to undo the whole deal. But it was this particular sofa I wanted, so giving up on it was clearly not an option. Well, it's here now! Apparently with some wrong legs, but we'll manage.

It's huge! And finally, my dream can come true - three people can take an afternoon nap on this monster, at the same time.

News readers and their language

It's time to criticize. I'm angry, mad infuriated! And who's the target of my anger? A reporter in the Norwegian radiostation Petre. More accurately: a newsreporter, or newsreader, or whatever they're called these days. I should like her, really, since she sounds like she's from about the same place as me, the wonderful northwestern coast of Norway. But no, oh no. Here's the thing: I thought there was some kind of norm regarding language use in news broadcast. Don't misunderstand me, I'm not against people using their dialects - on the contrary, I'm very pro - but this girl is not using her dialect - she is MISUSING IT! I listen to the radio on my way to work, and I quite enjoy that radio station, but lately I have felt so nauseous by the sound of her misuse of language that I have simply had to turn the radio off the few minutes that the news last. She has one word that she uses which is charming and cute, namely "he" instead of the standard "har" (meaning has/have). So far, so good. The trouble starts when she starts using all kinds of genders and conjugations of nouns and verbs. It is just one terrible molotov coctail of verb- and noun endings and I fail, I really do fail, to see a pattern in it all. But maybe this IS her dialect, I hear you say. NO, IT IS NOT! I know, because I speak that dialect. Noone speaks like that, NOONE. Someone, please stop her! Please teach her the proper gender of words, and the corresponding conjugation. This cannot go on. In the name of the father, stop the madness!

Just for the heck of it

I'm slowly realizing that I am an incredibly bad blogger. Well, the quality is there, of course, but the quantity is not, and let's face it - if I want this to be chosen as a blog of note at some point (and of course I do), the quantity is the most important thing. I say this after having browsed through numbers of blogs of note. Most of them are not particularly interesting at all, but they all have one thing in common - they are updated on a regular basis. Well, as you can all see - mine is not. First I thought that I would blog at least once a week. After a while I realized that that was not within reach, so I decided to go for once a month. Alas - I'm not even there! I surely missed out on December, and as for January? Well, this blog entry you are reading right now is just written so that I will have a blog entry for this month. How pathetic is that?