Let's start at the beginning: what does a pop tart really taste like? I have been in the U.S. long enough that I should have had plenty of opportunities to find out, but honestly, I've never tried one. And never really felt like trying one either. Especially not for breakfast. I have vastly different ideas about what a good breakfast should and should not entail than what most Americans do (judging only from the breakfast aisle in any given grocery store, naturally).
Well, even if I am leaving I have made sure I'll get the chance to figure out this mystery. I've bought a box of pop tarts. I fully expect I won't like them very much, but at least now my expectations aren't too high...
Don't get me wrong, I approve of a lot of breakfast related things here too. For instance the concept of going out for breakfast (even if I normally would choose a different dish than pancakes, but even I get that this only makes me weird...). Or even better, brunch. One of the restaurants in the vicinity of my hotel in Atlanta advertizes that they serve bottomless mimosas* or Bloody Marys for Sunday brunch. Even if that makes me think of Kenny Falmouth of Monkey Island, it does sound like a sweet deal.
My own breakfast routine most days while I've been in the U.S., however, has been quite a bit more sober than that. I've been in two different hotels in two different parts of the country, but I could always find some channel that showed reruns of old shows - especially "Charmed". Interestingly I never really watched "Charmed" when it was a big deal way back when I was a kiddo (many of my friends did, and I can't remember exactly what made me not watch it, though I suspect it might have had something to do with the fact that we didn't have cable or satelite, and thus a very limited range of channels). Anyway, with all these reruns - and not just this time, but last time I visited the U.S. too, as well as when we went to the U.K. for vacation in November - it seems I have the show pretty much covered. But then, yesterday, the seemingly endless string of reruns ended. The very last episode of the show! Now what will I do for breakfast? I suppose it was only fitting as I am leaving today. Also, I am ignoring the fact that they started over again with the very first season this morning, so I really could watch it all if I only stayed a couple of months more - with three episodes per day that should probably cover it...
Even if I haven't watched it religiously in the past, however, I still know the show well enough to have the benefit of rewatching, as the best thing about watching old shows, of course, is that you don't have to pay very careful attention. So I could walk back and forth, take a shower, get dressed, eat, or even work a little while it ran in the background. While this has been a perfect mode for the minial task of sorting through archive documents as afterwork from my visit there during work hours, I am relieved it is over. My back aches from being slumped over my laptop for long stretches at the time, in uncomfortable seating positions in a hotel bed. My eyes are sore and my head hurts from trying to remember archive codes and sorting the files into their right place. My fingers have paper cuts from old documents, and I am sick of working twelve hour days (even if portions of them have been accompanied by "Charmed"). I even missed out on vacation days during my stay here, as most Norwegians take the whole week of Easter off.
Another good thing about ending my TV-meets-work streak now is that I don't have to watch commercials anymore. We have commercials on most channels in Norway too, but first of all I don't watch all that much TV at home (I have Netflix and HBO Nordic, after all), and secondly, last time I checked our commercials were less disturbing than many of the ones here.
What mostly baffles me are the medical commercials. This and this drug will help you with this and that disease. It will have the following side effects: [insert long list of terrible things that almost always ends with DEATH for good measure]. Talk to your doctor today!
Talk to your doctor? Why would I, as the patient, go to my doctor and explain about some drug? Isn't it the doctor's job to tell the patient what the best treatment for whatever disease or ailment they have should be? I realize doctors in the U.S. are frequently sponsored by the medical companies and thus might have preferences for specific drug for other reasons than what works better, but if that's the case you really ought to find another doctor with a better sense of ethics, rather than presenting the one you've already got with a lecture based on a TV commerical.
But that set aside, back to the commercials themselves. Can we all agree that they are pretty disturbing? Listing all those side effects is obviously something they are obliged to do for legal reasons, but I still find it amazing that someone would take them up on the offer of talking to their doctor after having heard all the horrible things this drug might inflict, presented to them in a voice of an actor you can *hear* is wearing a fake smile (how can you hear that, you ask? Well, just listen the next time one of those commercials are on. You can hear it).
Secondly, why are they always walking on the beach in these commercials? Strolling along the shore, or in a forest, or playing in the garden with a pet or child. Always the same setting. Fake smiles. Super disturbing.
Finally, the most disturbing thing to me isn't the medical commercials themselves, but in combination of another type of commercials: the mass lawsuit ones. "Have you or your loved ones experienced [insert terrible side effect caused by medical malpractise]? You might be entitled to compensation!" I realize there isn't a coherent line from people suggesting to their doctors what medicines to take for their ailments to them suing the doctor (or whomever) for having suffered consequences of malpractise. But it seems to me there is something strange about where the system puts liability. The patient is supposed to advice the doctor, while the doctors and other parts of the healthcare system are forced to focus on covering their butts legally rather than providing the best possible option for the patient. I'm not saying it's necessarily different elsewhere or that I have a solution to this, but I am saying the frequent commericals serve to give a creepy reminder of what a nasty world it can be.
I'll miss things too, though. I might have issues with certain parts of commercial America, but I don't think I'll ever stop marvelling at the selection in stores here. Whether it is grocery shopping or browsing for dresses, I keep finding myself enchanted. It's dangerous for my wallet, but it's making my little shopping heart burst with joy. Every time I visit the U.S. I seem to end up with a new wardrobe and don't even get me started on bookstores. When I came here in 2009 the selection seemed wider (I miss Borders!), but give me a good Barnes & Noble any day, and I'll be lost that day. They even have coffee in there! Why would you ever want to leave?
More important than the things I leave behind (good or bad), though, are the things I'm going back to. I miss my home, I miss my friends and family, I miss the regularity of my daily routine (the normal one, not the one involving "Charmed"), Norwegian language, food and weather (!), Oslo, my apartment, all the things I know and love. Most importantly, I miss my boyfriend. Four weeks is a long time to be away from everything, and even though I've enjoyed my stay in the U.S. I can't wait to go home.
Now I'm going to make the hotel cat who has been keeping me company this morning go back out into the corridor so I don't accidentally pack him, and then I'll finish stuffing my suitcase. Somehow, it gained weight during this trip (see section about "shopping" above).
*Huh. When I googled "bottomless" to find the link for Kenny, Google automatically suggested "bottomless mimosas atlanta". Apparently, this is a big deal here!
Showing posts with label favourites. Show all posts
Showing posts with label favourites. Show all posts
Friday, April 17, 2015
Thursday, September 13, 2012
On seven years (not in Tibet)
Seven years ago I was 19, soon to-be 20. I was a second-year student at the university, studying International Relations. I had successfully overcome the panicky transition from living at home in my little town, to mastering "big city" life (not that Oslo is *that* big, but compared to my hometown it's not so bad). I'd made friends - two of which I was living with in a shared apartment (still one of the best living arrangements I've experienced). I still visited my parents a lot, and occasionally worked weekend and summer shifts at the local bookstore there, were I'd earned my first wages when I was still in high school. This was at the time when one of my biggest obsessions - the Harry Potter books - still was an obsession.
Seven years ago I did not know that I would spend a considerable amount of the next seven years abroad. I did not know that I'd be privileged enough to meet so many wonderful people; see such amazing things; taste, smell, feel, experience a plethora (and yet a minimal part) of what the world has to offer. I did not know that the people I then knew would in some cases stay with me, some would drift away, and some whose importance I did not realize then are now among those I hold nearest to heart.
Seven years ago I did not know much about the Middle East. I did not realize how an analytic perspective to a historical problem changes the whole concept and our understanding of it. I did not have the same vocabulary I do now, and I did not know how to best employ the words I did have. Ironically, I had more words then in a language I long since have put in the back of my mind - my French is definitely not one of things that have improved during these years.
Seven years ago I was in the middle of a process of redefining myself. Today I am in the middle of a process of redefining myself. I have constantly been in the middle of that process, and I constantly will. It's a never-ending process, and you're always in the middle of it. To paraphrase Dr. Who (whom I'd never heard of seven years ago, whom I've not yet come to appreciate today, but whom I fully expect to have learned to love sometime within the next seven years) : Time is not linear. As a historian (which I had no idea seven years ago I'd denominate myself) it's tricky not to see time as linear. But as a human being, I find it increasingly easy. We do not know when it will end. We do not remember when it started. Everything in between happens with such vigor and surprise that we cannot manage to sort it into the nice, tidy line we'd like time to be. No one shall be able to convince me that the 24 hours spent dreading an exam or an important presentation pass in the same amount of time as the 24 hours in any other given day - even though I rationally know it to be so. Rationality is overrated. I did not know that either, seven years ago.
Seven years is a long time, or a really short one - depending on your perspective. I was a different person back then, at the same time as I haven't really changed. My perspective has changed. My horizon has widened. I've exposed myself to education from both books, travels, and life. I've felt happiness, grief, fear, excitement, anger. I've lived, and I've learned. I hope to continue doing so, because I have no idea what the next seven years have to offer. I am eager to find out.
This post was inspired by a conversation on Facebook where my friend Stacy tried to figure out how long this group of friends had known each other. We met through a Harry Potter fansite (which is no longer active, sadly), and most of us have still only known each other online (though some have gotten together IRL over the years). We were all a little amazed to realize that it's been (approximately) seven years. The thought of everything that's happened since triggered a bit of a stroll down memory lane on my part. My HPANA-peeps are still among those I feel closest to, even though we've never had that much in common except a book series now concluded. Funny how that sometimes is enough to tie people together. Also one thing I've learned these past seven years.
Seven years ago I did not know that I would spend a considerable amount of the next seven years abroad. I did not know that I'd be privileged enough to meet so many wonderful people; see such amazing things; taste, smell, feel, experience a plethora (and yet a minimal part) of what the world has to offer. I did not know that the people I then knew would in some cases stay with me, some would drift away, and some whose importance I did not realize then are now among those I hold nearest to heart.
Seven years ago I did not know much about the Middle East. I did not realize how an analytic perspective to a historical problem changes the whole concept and our understanding of it. I did not have the same vocabulary I do now, and I did not know how to best employ the words I did have. Ironically, I had more words then in a language I long since have put in the back of my mind - my French is definitely not one of things that have improved during these years.
Seven years ago I was in the middle of a process of redefining myself. Today I am in the middle of a process of redefining myself. I have constantly been in the middle of that process, and I constantly will. It's a never-ending process, and you're always in the middle of it. To paraphrase Dr. Who (whom I'd never heard of seven years ago, whom I've not yet come to appreciate today, but whom I fully expect to have learned to love sometime within the next seven years) : Time is not linear. As a historian (which I had no idea seven years ago I'd denominate myself) it's tricky not to see time as linear. But as a human being, I find it increasingly easy. We do not know when it will end. We do not remember when it started. Everything in between happens with such vigor and surprise that we cannot manage to sort it into the nice, tidy line we'd like time to be. No one shall be able to convince me that the 24 hours spent dreading an exam or an important presentation pass in the same amount of time as the 24 hours in any other given day - even though I rationally know it to be so. Rationality is overrated. I did not know that either, seven years ago.
Seven years is a long time, or a really short one - depending on your perspective. I was a different person back then, at the same time as I haven't really changed. My perspective has changed. My horizon has widened. I've exposed myself to education from both books, travels, and life. I've felt happiness, grief, fear, excitement, anger. I've lived, and I've learned. I hope to continue doing so, because I have no idea what the next seven years have to offer. I am eager to find out.
This post was inspired by a conversation on Facebook where my friend Stacy tried to figure out how long this group of friends had known each other. We met through a Harry Potter fansite (which is no longer active, sadly), and most of us have still only known each other online (though some have gotten together IRL over the years). We were all a little amazed to realize that it's been (approximately) seven years. The thought of everything that's happened since triggered a bit of a stroll down memory lane on my part. My HPANA-peeps are still among those I feel closest to, even though we've never had that much in common except a book series now concluded. Funny how that sometimes is enough to tie people together. Also one thing I've learned these past seven years.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
On stuffophilia
So, it's one of those days...
I don't really believe the following really happened, but that's sort of the point, isn't it...
I have inherited from my grandfather a clock (of the mantel variety) that require a deposit of 1 krone (though unfortunately not the currently used version) per week to power it, like a savings arrangement. I don't have a picture or link, but I felt the mentioning of it belonged in this post.
Also, I looked up "who's" versus "whose" for the umpteenth time. And now I looked up umpteenth... Gah.
Aaaaand one more posting from designfetish(I think I might have one, yes).org:
And now I need to get off the internet, or at the very least go back to Facebook lurking. Laters, taters!
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| Zombie White (and no Huntsman) |
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| I *really* want these origami speakers. In addition to being awesome in the capacity of being ORIGAMI SPEAKERS (!), they also sound pretty cool sound-wise. Want. (Also, from this fabulously awesome site I might be addicted to now ((designfetish.org)), it is worth checking out the posts about people as pixels, the Pixar minimalistic poster series, and not to mention Zombie Attack Barbie. Once she's through with Ken, she can have a go at Snow White...) |
I don't really believe the following really happened, but that's sort of the point, isn't it...
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| (I wish it were true, though. Bill Murray FTW) |
I have inherited from my grandfather a clock (of the mantel variety) that require a deposit of 1 krone (though unfortunately not the currently used version) per week to power it, like a savings arrangement. I don't have a picture or link, but I felt the mentioning of it belonged in this post.
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| *snort* |
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| I know someone whose potential wedding cake should look like this, but I am not going to tell him because I don't want him to think I am making suggestions... (You know who you are and if you are reading this: I am not. Making suggestions. I am reading it. After having written it. Checking for typoes. Probably missing a few.) |
Also, I looked up "who's" versus "whose" for the umpteenth time. And now I looked up umpteenth... Gah.
Aaaaand one more posting from designfetish(I think I might have one, yes).org:
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| It's a GUMMY BEAR DRESS!!! OMD - could I pull it off? Probably not, but I could eat it off! Ha! I made a funny! |
And now I need to get off the internet, or at the very least go back to Facebook lurking. Laters, taters!
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
On randouvites, part three
These are a few of my current randouvite things:
Cucumbers. Small ones.
My most recent playlist on Spotify. Not that I'm letting you in on the songs thereof.
Danish newspapers. Haha. Seriously, though.
The colour mustard yellow. And how it totally goes with green. And navy blue.
Candles.
My creepy mp3-player. It's creepy because even if I keep it on "shuffle", every day when I come from work it starts playing Simon & Garfunkel's "A Hazy Shade of Winter" as I pass the exact same house. Seriously. This has happened four times now. (And no, that song is not on my playlist. Ha!)
A hazy shade of wintery sunrises even if it's still autumn. But our light is leaving. So it's nice to cherish the sunrises we have. (Okay, our light isn't leaving, per se, but we have less of it now. We're reaching the point where you leave the house in darkness, and come back home after work in darkness.)
Mmmoney. Let's be honest. We all love it. I love having some again. Even if I'm still quite broke.
Reading time with my nephews.
Having a beer with friends after work. That I have friends. And work.
Fleet Foxes. (Went to their concert - they are seriously AMAZING!) (Fine. Yes. They are represented on my playlist)
That November is moving forward, at a reasonable pace.
My red lipgloss. Rrrred!
That the Oslo-metro system is all in the same price zone now. Man, that bothered me before!
Dates. As in the fruit. Dried. Other meanings of the word? Meh.
Candles. (Yes, I know I already said that)
Daydreaming.
The smell of cold in the air in the morning.
That it isn't raining. Not always.
That I can be as weird as I like in the privacy of my own office (and on my own blog, apparently).
The word "seriously".
Cucumbers. Small ones.
My most recent playlist on Spotify. Not that I'm letting you in on the songs thereof.
Danish newspapers. Haha. Seriously, though.
The colour mustard yellow. And how it totally goes with green. And navy blue.
Candles.
My creepy mp3-player. It's creepy because even if I keep it on "shuffle", every day when I come from work it starts playing Simon & Garfunkel's "A Hazy Shade of Winter" as I pass the exact same house. Seriously. This has happened four times now. (And no, that song is not on my playlist. Ha!)
A hazy shade of wintery sunrises even if it's still autumn. But our light is leaving. So it's nice to cherish the sunrises we have. (Okay, our light isn't leaving, per se, but we have less of it now. We're reaching the point where you leave the house in darkness, and come back home after work in darkness.)
Mmmoney. Let's be honest. We all love it. I love having some again. Even if I'm still quite broke.
Reading time with my nephews.
Having a beer with friends after work. That I have friends. And work.
Fleet Foxes. (Went to their concert - they are seriously AMAZING!) (Fine. Yes. They are represented on my playlist)
That November is moving forward, at a reasonable pace.
My red lipgloss. Rrrred!
That the Oslo-metro system is all in the same price zone now. Man, that bothered me before!
Dates. As in the fruit. Dried. Other meanings of the word? Meh.
Candles. (Yes, I know I already said that)
Daydreaming.
The smell of cold in the air in the morning.
That it isn't raining. Not always.
That I can be as weird as I like in the privacy of my own office (and on my own blog, apparently).
The word "seriously".
Saturday, October 8, 2011
On ecards
I'm not really fond of ecards. I feel they were a thing waaaay back when the internet was still a novelty, when the average person received less than 20 emails per day, and when our needs for non-flesh social interaction wasn't covered by social media. The last ten years or so, however, whenever I receive emails that say they have ecards in them, I automatically assume they are spam.
Still. Now I'm kinda hooked at these meme cards that are flying around the interwebs. They. Are. Freakin'. Hilarious. I've probably spent hours browsing that site to find the perfect card to "send" to every person I've ever interacted with. And you'll find them. someecards.com has a card for any occasion. You want to send a thank you note to your cousin who took the blame for you when you got caught stealing sigarettes in the fifth grade? Should be there. You want a unique way of telling your neighbour you're sorry your dog bit his foot off? Pretty sure you'll find one. You want a card expressing that extra-special feeling you have for a guy you almost slept with, but as you were about to take your top off you remembered that you hadn't shaved your legs and so you made up a silly excuse and now it's all awkward? Yeah. There is a card for that.
Plus, they make the perfect blog fodder for days when you don't really have anything to write about.
Still. Now I'm kinda hooked at these meme cards that are flying around the interwebs. They. Are. Freakin'. Hilarious. I've probably spent hours browsing that site to find the perfect card to "send" to every person I've ever interacted with. And you'll find them. someecards.com has a card for any occasion. You want to send a thank you note to your cousin who took the blame for you when you got caught stealing sigarettes in the fifth grade? Should be there. You want a unique way of telling your neighbour you're sorry your dog bit his foot off? Pretty sure you'll find one. You want a card expressing that extra-special feeling you have for a guy you almost slept with, but as you were about to take your top off you remembered that you hadn't shaved your legs and so you made up a silly excuse and now it's all awkward? Yeah. There is a card for that.
Plus, they make the perfect blog fodder for days when you don't really have anything to write about.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
On randouvites, part two
If you're wondering why I am not using the more conventional "favourite" (or why I insist on spelling both with a U), you might want to check out last year's post on this topic. It was summer, sun and (thesis) stress then. It is summer, sun and (everything but thesis) stress now. So I figured it was time to do another round.
These are a few of my randouvite things:
Not sure why, but this song really puts me in a good mood in a "dance all night with nothing but mango margaritas and cabana boys to keep me company" kind of way.
Speaking of which - MANGO MARGARITAS! How awesome is that? Very, that's how. I haven't tried this recipe specifically, but it sounds yummy. The ones I had in Tokyo were divine, but then they were made by someone who sells tequila (and not the crappy stuff) for a living. Can't promise divinity with this one.
Long, flowy (yes, I know that's not a word. You know what I mean, though, right?), colourful dresses. I hate being a slave of the current fashion, but this one got me good. They're so PRETTY! The more colourful, the better! In fact, the crazier the (floral) print, the better. I want a ton of them! (And I want more summer so I can actually wear them...)
And since I'm on the topic of girly stuff. I'm waaay into nails lately. No, not those you use for building houses. Those you (hopefully) have on your fingers (and toes). With nail polish on them. In every colour (though currently mine are so deep purple they are practically black. In fact, I think they actually *are* black. Hm.
Finally, a new love. These and other randouvites (or, actually, they are less random over there, as they're all categorized. So I guess they are just regular favourites. Still with a U, though) can be found at Pinterest.com, which is one of the more brilliant sites I've come to love. It's similar to StumbleUpon, but then not. You can make your own virtual pinboard for whatever cool stuff you find online, whether that is interior design, inspirational quotes, ideas for novels, or whatever you like. A must-try! (I think you may need an invite. If you send me your email, I can invite you!)
These are a few of my randouvite things:
Not sure why, but this song really puts me in a good mood in a "dance all night with nothing but mango margaritas and cabana boys to keep me company" kind of way.
Speaking of which - MANGO MARGARITAS! How awesome is that? Very, that's how. I haven't tried this recipe specifically, but it sounds yummy. The ones I had in Tokyo were divine, but then they were made by someone who sells tequila (and not the crappy stuff) for a living. Can't promise divinity with this one.Long, flowy (yes, I know that's not a word. You know what I mean, though, right?), colourful dresses. I hate being a slave of the current fashion, but this one got me good. They're so PRETTY! The more colourful, the better! In fact, the crazier the (floral) print, the better. I want a ton of them! (And I want more summer so I can actually wear them...)
And since I'm on the topic of girly stuff. I'm waaay into nails lately. No, not those you use for building houses. Those you (hopefully) have on your fingers (and toes). With nail polish on them. In every colour (though currently mine are so deep purple they are practically black. In fact, I think they actually *are* black. Hm.
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| This also shows the sleeve of my purple raincoat which helps handle all the rain... |
Finally, a new love. These and other randouvites (or, actually, they are less random over there, as they're all categorized. So I guess they are just regular favourites. Still with a U, though) can be found at Pinterest.com, which is one of the more brilliant sites I've come to love. It's similar to StumbleUpon, but then not. You can make your own virtual pinboard for whatever cool stuff you find online, whether that is interior design, inspirational quotes, ideas for novels, or whatever you like. A must-try! (I think you may need an invite. If you send me your email, I can invite you!)
Monday, June 27, 2011
On urban localism
Tokyo is one of those places that doesn't always feel very large despite the fact that its population is one of the largest for any city in the world (depending on how and what you count). As an urban area, it's obviously HUGE with its 30 million people. But the place I'm currently living in, however, doesn't feel very big at all. Perhaps the considerable local-ness of Tokyo is what made me feel so at home here right from the start? Below are a few of the things that comprise my local community.
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| The Mori Tower. My favourite skyscraper. |
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| Roppongi Crossing |
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| Traditional meets modern, at the Imperial Palace/Hibya |
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| Hibiya at sunset ♥ |
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| One of the oddest buildings I know, right in my neighbourhood |
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| Because every pet needs that special attention, right? |
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| Temple with a basketball net? But of course. |
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| Geisha barbie and all her friends @ the spa... |
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| Stairway to heaven? Maybe not, but there is a temple at the top |
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| The mandatory temple cat |
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| I thought this was interesting, in all its moldy, broken beauty |
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| Messy, noisy, trafficky, and YET local... |
I ♥ local Tokyo :)
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
On browsing browsers
Dear Firefox,
We’ve been together for a while now, though we never said we’d be exclusive. I must confess I am still seeing I.E. behind your back. Yes, on the other computer. After all, I only went with you on this one because you were supposed to be faster. So far you haven’t really lived up to my expectations, and I’m beginning to wonder if faster really is better…
In light of my continuing affair with I.E., I thought it was time we talked about what is good about this relationship. And what is not. Perhaps if you change, I’d be willing to stay with you. Until then I don’t really see a future for you and me.
To start with your good sides, I really like that you are considerate of my needs and wants. When you first asked me if I wanted to “close and save tabs” or just “close” the browser, it made me feel really special – like a princess. After the 874,766th time, however, I think it is high time that you learn that I don’t really want to save the tabs I close for next time I open the browser. When I close something, I close it. I don’t want to save. Yes, I do realize that I can ask you not to ask, but I really wanted you to figure it out for yourself.
(By the way, I don’t mind when I.E. asks me if I want to re-open any closed tabs whenever I open a new tab. He just has better timing than you. After all, it is more likely that I want to open the same tab several times within the same browsing session than that I want to reopen them hours later.)
I like your memory. I think it is cute that I only have to type a few letters, and you recall any website I’ve visited. The problem is, I also find it slightly disturbing. It’s like you’re monitoring me. Sometimes I just want to ask for a little space. I.E. is much more discreet about this. The whole star-thing doesn’t really work like I.E.’s favourites. He knows what sites I like. When you make me assign stars, I feel like an elementary school teacher. I hate not being able to give stars to everyone.
I guess there were a few things I didn’t like mixed in with the ones I like. You just make me feel ambiguous like that. I haven’t yet decided if it’s a good thing.
As for the bad things, there are a few. There is no easy way of saying this, so I’m just going to jump right in.
I hate – HATE – your uncooperativeness when it comes to Blogger. I realize that the two of you don’t get along very well. I get that sometimes the chemistry just isn’t right. But as long as Blogger is important to me, it should be important to you too. So I suggest you try a little harder. Don’t block the Google Friend request (I.E. manages just fine, just so you know it). Don’t mess up my formatting when I want to paste a blog post from Word into Blogger. And don’t stop me from posting altogether. It has happened a few times. You know what I talk about. It makes me so frustrated!
Finally, I just can’t get used to how you have the "refresh" and "home" buttons on the wrong side of the top page bar. It just looks weird.
As long as things remain like this, I’m sorry to have to tell you that I.E. is still my “standard program”. I just can’t see myself changing that anytime soon. It’s all in your hands now. I know it must sound cold-hearted since I am the one who strayed, but I honestly don’t think this is my fault. If we are going to make this work, you have to change.
Yours (only partly) truly,
Cruella.
We’ve been together for a while now, though we never said we’d be exclusive. I must confess I am still seeing I.E. behind your back. Yes, on the other computer. After all, I only went with you on this one because you were supposed to be faster. So far you haven’t really lived up to my expectations, and I’m beginning to wonder if faster really is better…
In light of my continuing affair with I.E., I thought it was time we talked about what is good about this relationship. And what is not. Perhaps if you change, I’d be willing to stay with you. Until then I don’t really see a future for you and me.
To start with your good sides, I really like that you are considerate of my needs and wants. When you first asked me if I wanted to “close and save tabs” or just “close” the browser, it made me feel really special – like a princess. After the 874,766th time, however, I think it is high time that you learn that I don’t really want to save the tabs I close for next time I open the browser. When I close something, I close it. I don’t want to save. Yes, I do realize that I can ask you not to ask, but I really wanted you to figure it out for yourself.
(By the way, I don’t mind when I.E. asks me if I want to re-open any closed tabs whenever I open a new tab. He just has better timing than you. After all, it is more likely that I want to open the same tab several times within the same browsing session than that I want to reopen them hours later.)
I like your memory. I think it is cute that I only have to type a few letters, and you recall any website I’ve visited. The problem is, I also find it slightly disturbing. It’s like you’re monitoring me. Sometimes I just want to ask for a little space. I.E. is much more discreet about this. The whole star-thing doesn’t really work like I.E.’s favourites. He knows what sites I like. When you make me assign stars, I feel like an elementary school teacher. I hate not being able to give stars to everyone.
I guess there were a few things I didn’t like mixed in with the ones I like. You just make me feel ambiguous like that. I haven’t yet decided if it’s a good thing.
As for the bad things, there are a few. There is no easy way of saying this, so I’m just going to jump right in.
I hate – HATE – your uncooperativeness when it comes to Blogger. I realize that the two of you don’t get along very well. I get that sometimes the chemistry just isn’t right. But as long as Blogger is important to me, it should be important to you too. So I suggest you try a little harder. Don’t block the Google Friend request (I.E. manages just fine, just so you know it). Don’t mess up my formatting when I want to paste a blog post from Word into Blogger. And don’t stop me from posting altogether. It has happened a few times. You know what I talk about. It makes me so frustrated!
Finally, I just can’t get used to how you have the "refresh" and "home" buttons on the wrong side of the top page bar. It just looks weird.
As long as things remain like this, I’m sorry to have to tell you that I.E. is still my “standard program”. I just can’t see myself changing that anytime soon. It’s all in your hands now. I know it must sound cold-hearted since I am the one who strayed, but I honestly don’t think this is my fault. If we are going to make this work, you have to change.
Yours (only partly) truly,
Cruella.
Friday, September 10, 2010
On Sweden
First things first. No, I am not Swedish. No, Norway is not the capital of Sweden. It’s not the capital of Copenhagen either. And no, it is not irrelevant whether you refer to any of the Scandinavian countries as Sweden, Denmark, Norwegia (it’s called Norway!), The Land of Snow and Ice, Mordor or Nordica. We are separate countries with separate cultures and very separate prides. So please try to remember which is which (for the record, I’m NORWEGIAN. Norwegian!).
A while back I had a comment from one of my lovely followers saying that she had Norwegian and Swedish ancestors, but that she wouldn’t speak with me about the Swedish ones, because she knew how Norwegians felt about Swedes. This struck me with a pang. Had we really become known as enemies, the Norwegians and the Swedes? This was a very foreign concept to me. Sure, I have been known to gloat when Norway beats Sweden in any kind of sport. And yes, now that you mention it I did announce loudly to anyone who'd listen that "I'm Swedish" at one occasion when I made a complete fool out of myself on the Parisian Metro... But this is all friendly banter. Norway and Sweden are like brothers – Sweden is the big brother, and Norway is the little one that wants to be just like his older sibling.
Let me explain it to you (prepare for a history lesson..) :
Norway and Sweden (and Denmark) have always had a lot of interaction. At one point we all had one king. At one point we all had one queen (which I believe is still the last reigning queen Norway has had). Then Norway and Denmark merged into a union (Denmark clearly ruled the party), while Sweden played superpower in the Baltic Sea. Norway was under Danish rule for about 400 years. Then came along a little fella named Napoleon. He caused a lot of havoc on the European continent (you may have heard about it). Unfortunately for poor, little Norway, the Danish king decided to side with Napoleon. If you know anything about ABBA, you know that Napoleon had to face his Waterloo (he couldn’t escape if he wanted to). Sweden, on the other hand, had picked the winning team. As a consequence, Denmark was sentenced (or blessed – depending on the point of view) to give up Norway in favour of Sweden.
Just like that – without anyone bothering to ask what the Norwegians thought – we were handed away like a gift basket you didn’t really want anyway.
At the time, this gift basket was a very poor, very rural, very “uncivilizised” country. But the winds that had been blowing on the continent (and in the US) for a while had reached Norway at last. Words like “freedom” and “democracy” were making you popular at parties. Because of these winds, the Norwegian people (or the social stratum that had money and education, but no noble blood) decided it was time to write our own constitution. They gathered at Eidsvoll in 1814, ate good food, drank wine, and in between wrote the document that ever since has been the guiding principle for legal matters in Norway.
Regardless of this, however, Norway was still forced to enter a new union with Sweden. Granted it was a relatively free union - we got to keep our Constitution, our newborn parliament (the Storting), and basically everything else we would have had as an independent state. Norway shared a king and foreign policy with Sweden, but that's about it. The union lasted for almost a century - in 1905 Norway finally gained its full independece.
We were in an absolutist union with Demark for 400 years. With Sweden we enjoyed much more freedom, and the arrangement lasted less than 100 years. And yet it is with Sweden we hold the grudge (we even picked a Danish prince to be the first king of the free Norway)...
Blame it on the relative recentness of the Swedo-Norwegian union. Blame it on Norwegian jealousness for Swedish (again, relative) success with music, industry, sports. Blame it on the fact that Norway always gives Sweden twelve points in the Eurovision Song Contest, while Sweden NEVER gives us more than eight... In the end it is impossible not to acknowledge that there is a certain something going on between Norway and Sweden. But I still maintain that it is of the friendly kind.
To underscore this, I will end this post with a list. A list about things I love about Sweden. It pains me to admit it, but there are certain things Sweden does better than Norway. Like potato chips. They have dill flavoured potato chips. That is almost impossible to get here. So, with no further ado:
Things I love about Sweden:
-Dill flavoured potato chips
-Music (ranging from my favourite band, kent, to ABBA, the Cardigans, Robyn, the Hives, Broder Daniel, Mando Diao and not to forget the immortal Cornelis Vreeswijk)
-Grocery shops
-Stockholm, which is a much more "continental" city than Oslo, and frankly, it's also a better place to go on vacation (I can't believe I just said that...)
-Their architecture. Sweden has a much larger tradition for nobility, and thus they have mansions and castles (but also charming, little cottages) everywhere. Is pretty.
-Swedish. Their language just is prettier than ours. Norwegian and Swedish are closely related, so we can understand virtually everything Swedes say (but for some reason, they don’t understand Norwegian as well). Sweden used to be a big shot country in Europe, though, so their language is much more influenced by the language of the nobility, French. The boring Norwegian word for sidewalk/pavement – fortau, is more more exotic in Swedish: trottoir. Likewise our dull window (vindu) is fönster in Swedish. Also, I think Swedish sounds more lyrical than Norwegian. Ironically, the Swedes I’ve spoken to about this say that Norwegian sounds like we’re singing all the time…
-Swedish literature. One of my very favourite authors in the world is the Swedish children’s book author Astrid Lindgren. In addition to such memorable characters as Pippi Longstockings and Emil from Lönneberga, she’s written about Ronja Rövardotter (my favourite), The Children of Noisy Village, and many, many more. Both her books and the movies made from them (I highly recommend the English version of Mio in the Land of Faraway, with Christopher Lee and a young Christian Bale) have given me countless hours of entertainment. But Lindgren is hardly the only one. In addition to her, Sweden has fostered Nobel Laureate Selma Lagerlöf, and more recently several top crime novelists, such as Stieg Larsson.
Basically, I love Sweden.
There. I said it. I still reserve the right to be thrilled when Norway kicks Swedish butt in the next Winter Olympics, though. Tough love is the name of the game between siblings...
A while back I had a comment from one of my lovely followers saying that she had Norwegian and Swedish ancestors, but that she wouldn’t speak with me about the Swedish ones, because she knew how Norwegians felt about Swedes. This struck me with a pang. Had we really become known as enemies, the Norwegians and the Swedes? This was a very foreign concept to me. Sure, I have been known to gloat when Norway beats Sweden in any kind of sport. And yes, now that you mention it I did announce loudly to anyone who'd listen that "I'm Swedish" at one occasion when I made a complete fool out of myself on the Parisian Metro... But this is all friendly banter. Norway and Sweden are like brothers – Sweden is the big brother, and Norway is the little one that wants to be just like his older sibling.
Let me explain it to you (prepare for a history lesson..) :
Norway and Sweden (and Denmark) have always had a lot of interaction. At one point we all had one king. At one point we all had one queen (which I believe is still the last reigning queen Norway has had). Then Norway and Denmark merged into a union (Denmark clearly ruled the party), while Sweden played superpower in the Baltic Sea. Norway was under Danish rule for about 400 years. Then came along a little fella named Napoleon. He caused a lot of havoc on the European continent (you may have heard about it). Unfortunately for poor, little Norway, the Danish king decided to side with Napoleon. If you know anything about ABBA, you know that Napoleon had to face his Waterloo (he couldn’t escape if he wanted to). Sweden, on the other hand, had picked the winning team. As a consequence, Denmark was sentenced (or blessed – depending on the point of view) to give up Norway in favour of Sweden.
Just like that – without anyone bothering to ask what the Norwegians thought – we were handed away like a gift basket you didn’t really want anyway.
At the time, this gift basket was a very poor, very rural, very “uncivilizised” country. But the winds that had been blowing on the continent (and in the US) for a while had reached Norway at last. Words like “freedom” and “democracy” were making you popular at parties. Because of these winds, the Norwegian people (or the social stratum that had money and education, but no noble blood) decided it was time to write our own constitution. They gathered at Eidsvoll in 1814, ate good food, drank wine, and in between wrote the document that ever since has been the guiding principle for legal matters in Norway.
Regardless of this, however, Norway was still forced to enter a new union with Sweden. Granted it was a relatively free union - we got to keep our Constitution, our newborn parliament (the Storting), and basically everything else we would have had as an independent state. Norway shared a king and foreign policy with Sweden, but that's about it. The union lasted for almost a century - in 1905 Norway finally gained its full independece.
We were in an absolutist union with Demark for 400 years. With Sweden we enjoyed much more freedom, and the arrangement lasted less than 100 years. And yet it is with Sweden we hold the grudge (we even picked a Danish prince to be the first king of the free Norway)...
Blame it on the relative recentness of the Swedo-Norwegian union. Blame it on Norwegian jealousness for Swedish (again, relative) success with music, industry, sports. Blame it on the fact that Norway always gives Sweden twelve points in the Eurovision Song Contest, while Sweden NEVER gives us more than eight... In the end it is impossible not to acknowledge that there is a certain something going on between Norway and Sweden. But I still maintain that it is of the friendly kind.
To underscore this, I will end this post with a list. A list about things I love about Sweden. It pains me to admit it, but there are certain things Sweden does better than Norway. Like potato chips. They have dill flavoured potato chips. That is almost impossible to get here. So, with no further ado:
Things I love about Sweden:
-Dill flavoured potato chips
-Music (ranging from my favourite band, kent, to ABBA, the Cardigans, Robyn, the Hives, Broder Daniel, Mando Diao and not to forget the immortal Cornelis Vreeswijk)
-Grocery shops
-Stockholm, which is a much more "continental" city than Oslo, and frankly, it's also a better place to go on vacation (I can't believe I just said that...)
 |
| Swedish: "house"; Norwegian: "palace" |
-Swedish. Their language just is prettier than ours. Norwegian and Swedish are closely related, so we can understand virtually everything Swedes say (but for some reason, they don’t understand Norwegian as well). Sweden used to be a big shot country in Europe, though, so their language is much more influenced by the language of the nobility, French. The boring Norwegian word for sidewalk/pavement – fortau, is more more exotic in Swedish: trottoir. Likewise our dull window (vindu) is fönster in Swedish. Also, I think Swedish sounds more lyrical than Norwegian. Ironically, the Swedes I’ve spoken to about this say that Norwegian sounds like we’re singing all the time…
-Swedish literature. One of my very favourite authors in the world is the Swedish children’s book author Astrid Lindgren. In addition to such memorable characters as Pippi Longstockings and Emil from Lönneberga, she’s written about Ronja Rövardotter (my favourite), The Children of Noisy Village, and many, many more. Both her books and the movies made from them (I highly recommend the English version of Mio in the Land of Faraway, with Christopher Lee and a young Christian Bale) have given me countless hours of entertainment. But Lindgren is hardly the only one. In addition to her, Sweden has fostered Nobel Laureate Selma Lagerlöf, and more recently several top crime novelists, such as Stieg Larsson.
Basically, I love Sweden.
There. I said it. I still reserve the right to be thrilled when Norway kicks Swedish butt in the next Winter Olympics, though. Tough love is the name of the game between siblings...
 |
| The border between Norway and Sweden. Extra points if you can tell me which is which (I have no idea). |
Friday, September 3, 2010
On(line) stumbling
I am a world class procrastinator. I can spend endless amounts of time checking emails (I've got more than one to check), Facebooks (there is only one Facebook I am checking, but with multiple account syndrome this keeps me occupied in plural as well), blogs (are you detecting a pattern?), online newspapers and so on. The time wasting opportunities online are nearly endless. However, if by chance no one updates their Facebook for an hour or two, if no new emails find their way into my inbox or if all the blogs are read; there is one website that never runs out of interesting things for me to watch.
http://www.stumbleupon.com/ allows you to click and click and click and each time a new, interesting website pops up, one that falls into one of several pre-elected categories of your choice. During one session of stumbling, I can find such different things as
1) A recipe for the world's best egg rolls (their words, not mine).
2) This photograph:
and this one:
3) A video of the band MUSE who were forced to lip synch at an Italian television performace. As a protest, the band members switched instruments and generally made a very unconvincing performace (notice the ironic grin on the "vocalist's" face when he sings "They will not control us"...)
4) A website with various tips for writers, from beginner to professional.
5) The Tone Matrix - which is a highly addictive sound-music-chessboardy-vibration-xylophonish thingie that MUST be tested, but not in a place where you can annoy others with the sound... Only play in company if they can be amazed (they will be).
6) An online software that allows you to speed read (or spreed - I already like this thingie because it is a made-up word. Yay!), or, as I did, test how fast you are able to read. It's quite interesting. I found that I still read faster in Norwegian than in English. In Norwegian I could still follow the text perfectly at 600 words/minute, while it got tricky at 650/minute. In English I started having problems at about 550/minute. Note that the spreeder doesn't reflect my actual reading speed - I certainly read slower than this in real life.
7) Another video - this time some pretty darn incredible tap dancers. How this is humanly possible is beyond me...
I could go on, because there is always more to stumble upon at stumbleupon.com, but I think I have left you with enough oddities for one Friday. Happy weekend!
http://www.stumbleupon.com/ allows you to click and click and click and each time a new, interesting website pops up, one that falls into one of several pre-elected categories of your choice. During one session of stumbling, I can find such different things as
1) A recipe for the world's best egg rolls (their words, not mine).
2) This photograph:
and this one:
3) A video of the band MUSE who were forced to lip synch at an Italian television performace. As a protest, the band members switched instruments and generally made a very unconvincing performace (notice the ironic grin on the "vocalist's" face when he sings "They will not control us"...)
4) A website with various tips for writers, from beginner to professional.
5) The Tone Matrix - which is a highly addictive sound-music-chessboardy-vibration-xylophonish thingie that MUST be tested, but not in a place where you can annoy others with the sound... Only play in company if they can be amazed (they will be).
6) An online software that allows you to speed read (or spreed - I already like this thingie because it is a made-up word. Yay!), or, as I did, test how fast you are able to read. It's quite interesting. I found that I still read faster in Norwegian than in English. In Norwegian I could still follow the text perfectly at 600 words/minute, while it got tricky at 650/minute. In English I started having problems at about 550/minute. Note that the spreeder doesn't reflect my actual reading speed - I certainly read slower than this in real life.
7) Another video - this time some pretty darn incredible tap dancers. How this is humanly possible is beyond me...
I could go on, because there is always more to stumble upon at stumbleupon.com, but I think I have left you with enough oddities for one Friday. Happy weekend!
Friday, July 16, 2010
On randouvites
In my endless venture to convince the rest of the world that spiffing* up and merging existing words in the creation of new ones is absolutely necessary for human happiness, I have decided to introduce you to a new one. Very new, in fact, since I made it up not ten minutes ago. Randouvite is a merge of the word “random” (not so surprising, considering the writer of this post) and the word “favourite” (which I always spell with a U, since this is one of the few relics of what used to be my “NorwBritish English”. With time, however, it inevitably turned “American English with Norwagisms [-ismes?] in the mix”. Ah, well…).
See, I was going to write a post about current favourites, and then I realized they (like the rest of me) were pretty random. Consequently, a new word was born. Randouvite (note how I also spell that with a U. If you’re American, you might want to drop the U, though, or people will think you are pretentious).
Despite the linguistic twist at the beginning of this post, however, I intended to present said randouvites without too much hurdy-gurdy. (Ha! Hurdy-gurdy is a word! I love it! Of course it doesn’t mean at all what I hoped it would mean, and thus the above sentence makes NO sense, but I don’t care. Hurdy-gurdy!)
I love my fingernails. I realize that sounds a bit icky, and it would have been, but what I love about them is the nail polish on top of them (if you’re a guy and/or still think this is icky, just skip till the next point, won’t you?). Looksie!
I love wild flowers. I love picking them, I love keeping them in a regular kitchen glass since I don’t have any vases at the moment, and I love cleaning them up again after two days when they have died a most cluttery death with leaves and petals everywhere. Actually, I don’t love that latter part, but everything else – love it! If I could lie in a meadow of wild flowers all summer, I think I would.
I love giraffes. I know, I know – where’s the surprise in that, right? Well, I love them extra much today, for several reasons. First of all, my friend Powdered Toast Man at 'Just the Cheese' wrote a blog post about them the other day in celebration of his birthday (what a GREAT birthday present to himself, ne?), and he mentioned ME! Yay!
Secondly, I love them because thanks to stumbleupon.com (which is another randouvite – and this one is TRULY random) I found a nifty little website I really wish I had bookmarked so I could share it with you guys, but Cruella must have had the day off and Mari simply isn’t clever enough... The website I didn’t bookmark, though, allowed me to blow up and print out one of my giraffy images, and make a poster of it. So now I have 47 + 1 (which is another poster entirely) giraffes on my wall. Yay!
Finally, I love giraffes extra muchly today because of my continued love for onemilliongiraffes.com. My head have been growing each time one of my giraffes have been mentioned there, and now I think it is about ready to burst (which is a really disturbing mental image, by the way. Eugh!).
What made my head grow, though, was the fact that once again the brilliant blog on this even brillianter (yes, that is a word too. Word!) website brought out one of MY giraffes from the archives. This time it is even one of my favourites – the map of Giraffenland was drawn in a Borders on 14th and F street in Washington D.C. (I even know the date – it was on Sunday the 27th of September 2009, and I was supposed to be at the National Book Festival in D.C., but ended up having my own personal festival a few block away). I feel like I just won the lottery - twice - in just a few weeks!
I love alphabet crackers and tea. They (the crackers, not the tea) were out of production for a few years here, but now they are back. How brilliant is a snack that can both be eaten and used for Scrabble?
(And the word was very randomly spelled, I swear. As was the one below. Any idea what a Peligooz is?)
I love salad art. I wish I was one of those people who could make sculptures out of fruits and vegetables (I saw a picture of a watermelon rosette the other day – it was amazing), but I’m not cut out for that (oh, how clever...). I do have a pretty cool calendar, though, and my friend who was over for dinner the other night made this lovely cucumber man:
Finally, I love blogging, blog comments, blog followers, the blogosphere, the whole shebang (I also love that shebang is a word, but I don’t feel the need to abuse this one by using it in a completely nonsensical sentence, like “Shebang carrot pickle normal allusion forward.” Oops, I just did...)
Anyway, blogging – you guys – you ROCK! Lately I have had such wonderful things happen to me as emails from across the globe from people telling me about their job offers (and an awesome job, but it is not for me to share, I think...); I’ve had friends take on imaginary personas for a laugh; I’ve had people telling me of weird company names that sound Norwegian; I’ve had people pop by just to tell me they share my (weird) sense of humour. It’s such a wonderful place, the blogosphere, that I feel like cramming you all into one, big squishy group hug! Group hug!!!
Those were a few of my randouvite things. (I had to google that song to write the following side comment: ) Maria To-Be Trapp clearly had a glitch in her vocabulary! (In my head it was Mary Poppins who sung it. Extra points to those who know the common denominator... Actually, no extra points. It’s too easy!)
*I just learned of a new randouvite through the making of this post. According to thefreedictionary.com, the word spif (not spiff – we all know and love that one) is:
(Non-sporting Hobbies / Philately) a postage stamp perforated with the initials of a firm to avoid theft by employees Former name perfin.
[from s(tamp) p(erforated with) i(nitials of) f(irm)]
(Yay Canada! Or, Canada, eh!)
See, I was going to write a post about current favourites, and then I realized they (like the rest of me) were pretty random. Consequently, a new word was born. Randouvite (note how I also spell that with a U. If you’re American, you might want to drop the U, though, or people will think you are pretentious).
Despite the linguistic twist at the beginning of this post, however, I intended to present said randouvites without too much hurdy-gurdy. (Ha! Hurdy-gurdy is a word! I love it! Of course it doesn’t mean at all what I hoped it would mean, and thus the above sentence makes NO sense, but I don’t care. Hurdy-gurdy!)
I love my fingernails. I realize that sounds a bit icky, and it would have been, but what I love about them is the nail polish on top of them (if you’re a guy and/or still think this is icky, just skip till the next point, won’t you?). Looksie!
(I'm keeping my fingers permanently crossed for several reasons, so I'm the go-to person if you need some extra luck. In case you were wondering)
I love wild flowers. I love picking them, I love keeping them in a regular kitchen glass since I don’t have any vases at the moment, and I love cleaning them up again after two days when they have died a most cluttery death with leaves and petals everywhere. Actually, I don’t love that latter part, but everything else – love it! If I could lie in a meadow of wild flowers all summer, I think I would. I love giraffes. I know, I know – where’s the surprise in that, right? Well, I love them extra much today, for several reasons. First of all, my friend Powdered Toast Man at 'Just the Cheese' wrote a blog post about them the other day in celebration of his birthday (what a GREAT birthday present to himself, ne?), and he mentioned ME! Yay!
Secondly, I love them because thanks to stumbleupon.com (which is another randouvite – and this one is TRULY random) I found a nifty little website I really wish I had bookmarked so I could share it with you guys, but Cruella must have had the day off and Mari simply isn’t clever enough... The website I didn’t bookmark, though, allowed me to blow up and print out one of my giraffy images, and make a poster of it. So now I have 47 + 1 (which is another poster entirely) giraffes on my wall. Yay! 
Finally, I love giraffes extra muchly today because of my continued love for onemilliongiraffes.com. My head have been growing each time one of my giraffes have been mentioned there, and now I think it is about ready to burst (which is a really disturbing mental image, by the way. Eugh!). What made my head grow, though, was the fact that once again the brilliant blog on this even brillianter (yes, that is a word too. Word!) website brought out one of MY giraffes from the archives. This time it is even one of my favourites – the map of Giraffenland was drawn in a Borders on 14th and F street in Washington D.C. (I even know the date – it was on Sunday the 27th of September 2009, and I was supposed to be at the National Book Festival in D.C., but ended up having my own personal festival a few block away). I feel like I just won the lottery - twice - in just a few weeks!
I love alphabet crackers and tea. They (the crackers, not the tea) were out of production for a few years here, but now they are back. How brilliant is a snack that can both be eaten and used for Scrabble?
(And the word was very randomly spelled, I swear. As was the one below. Any idea what a Peligooz is?)
I love salad art. I wish I was one of those people who could make sculptures out of fruits and vegetables (I saw a picture of a watermelon rosette the other day – it was amazing), but I’m not cut out for that (oh, how clever...). I do have a pretty cool calendar, though, and my friend who was over for dinner the other night made this lovely cucumber man:
Finally, I love blogging, blog comments, blog followers, the blogosphere, the whole shebang (I also love that shebang is a word, but I don’t feel the need to abuse this one by using it in a completely nonsensical sentence, like “Shebang carrot pickle normal allusion forward.” Oops, I just did...)
Anyway, blogging – you guys – you ROCK! Lately I have had such wonderful things happen to me as emails from across the globe from people telling me about their job offers (and an awesome job, but it is not for me to share, I think...); I’ve had friends take on imaginary personas for a laugh; I’ve had people telling me of weird company names that sound Norwegian; I’ve had people pop by just to tell me they share my (weird) sense of humour. It’s such a wonderful place, the blogosphere, that I feel like cramming you all into one, big squishy group hug! Group hug!!!
Those were a few of my randouvite things. (I had to google that song to write the following side comment: ) Maria To-Be Trapp clearly had a glitch in her vocabulary! (In my head it was Mary Poppins who sung it. Extra points to those who know the common denominator... Actually, no extra points. It’s too easy!)
*I just learned of a new randouvite through the making of this post. According to thefreedictionary.com, the word spif (not spiff – we all know and love that one) is:
(Non-sporting Hobbies / Philately) a postage stamp perforated with the initials of a firm to avoid theft by employees Former name perfin.
[from s(tamp) p(erforated with) i(nitials of) f(irm)]
(Yay Canada! Or, Canada, eh!)
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