The bonfire on the cape and if I'm not much mistaken, tomorrow at 6, the May 1st marching band will start just outside our window. If I'm up by then, I'll tape it :)

Tiny red booklet :D

Another cherry from the series of the readers :)

A very interesting new word: liminality...
The ice-cream cup thingies, not to mention the waffles at the Evropa hotel restaurant are a kicker, too, by the way :D

The trial Nordkapp itinerary

Spent the morning walking around the town, in the rain, checking out the bookstores and the market and talking to my bucketling while he's working the endless hours... Last night I calculated the itinerary for the Nordkapp trip to see just how much money we would need and realized I'm still awesome at cutting corners with costs on budget trips. In the old days I could probably get to it for a 100 bucks :))

There are several alternatives that we can explore, several routes and stop-points without much stretching the basic cost grid. It also mostly depends on on-site mood, as I have no idea what people would feel like after a week of driving around fjords in gloomy weather. Personally I favor the route on this pic and estimate a day's drive to Copenhagen directly, two or three days spent around Oslo (resting, sightseeing...) and then the 2000 km route due north, stopping at camps, camping out-doors, beating the wind and mosquitoes and taking 500 photos per day :)) Then, once in the Lapland, I'd say it's worth exploring a little further. Then the drive back, whichever route we take, I estimate about 4 or five days. I vote for the one across Russia, as then we would get to stop for extra a few days in St. Peterburg and check out Armitage. The gas in Russia is half the price as here. And though there are visas, there are no road fees. And I wouldn't mind checking out the Latvian sisterhood. Unless of course it rains :D

I am thinking that for seven people and one small, noisy dog, this kind of a three-week trip to one of the prettiest places on the planet is super cheap. Taking the food with us, sleeping out-doors, finding out own Kodak moments, not really wasting much on souvenirs and ice-coffee... I estimate about 500 euro + vanity costs per person or around 3 grand for three groups. If we fail to find the groups, then gosh darn :) But I'll continue to plot and plan until the day we stay home :))

The son..

Doodling with the softpens... :)

 The readers :))

Been a Sundayish Wednesday. It's a national holiday, and a rainy one at that, so we got to slack full throttle. The Internet connection gave in the morning, so we went out, walked the dog by the river, had some ice cream, ate some bad pizza from the around-the-clock bakery... drank lots of Coke. Gen played Angry Birds until he got too angry, I read and knitted and wrote some more of the Gorgonaut. Then Internet returned and we played Warcraft, raiding together and helping each other out. Then we watched TV and snuggled. 

       ...All the things that seem like total useless boredom to everyone but anyone who's ever doing it with someone they love to be lazy with.

Sometimes it's hard not to give up on contractors. I'd just 'unfriend' them and say 'fuck'em', but luckily I have by now set up a system by which I always ask the General what to do and he is a natural born diplomat. (Also I listen and do what he suggests. Which is amazing, considering myself.) When people say 'fine, we don't like your work or your style or whatever, we are going for someone else', okay. It's only normal and the sooner we part ways, the less time and resources we all waste on one another. However. Sometimes, it's a nut house. It's a good thing this isn't some medieval court and is only art commissions, otherwise heads would roll a lot less proverbially. There's a company I am working for now and my only bridge to them is an unstable woman with as much ability to mediate as I have to ride a moped. Whatever she tells me, she seems to tell her own boss the exact opposite. When the time has come to ¸put things down on the table, we are all looking at one another confused. Each thinks of the other as ridiculous amateurs, trying to rip the other off...

          Thank the Gods for good books and even better coffee to get us through it all   :D

Game of Thrones

Though not as mesmerizing "on the first ball" as The Walking Dead was - which, after 20 minutes had you transfixed and never let you go again - I must admit that 'Winter is coming' (Episode 1) hooked and then slowly and surely tied and now I wake up, trying to learn little by little just what the hell is wrong with all these people in Martin's saga of Ice and Fire. Someone told me about these books a while ago, though I can't really remember what they were saying or why or who, but General did buy me Game of Thrones in translation once and I only read it now, in the hospital, because it was physically the largest tome I could find, in case I have to stay in. A little disappointed that there wasn't any action, just endless political backstabbing and ancient grudges and manipulations and the like, with only a pinch of supernatural, but by the second episode, I am quite impressed at how NOT black-and-white these story lines are... Just remember, kids, when all makes sense and you are certain you know who hates whom for what, think Petyr Baelish. If they didn't choose such an obviously slimy actor to play him, I'd have to call him the finger of God.

     

Okay, so to begin with the most obvious character, Dany, at first I couldn't really see her as anything more than a tiny silky white cock-wipe (especially cast versus Jasos Momoa, which couldn't be any smaller if he was lying down... and I have to learn why Tamzin Merchant wasn't cast as the tiny Stormborn, though this little thing seems perfect for the role). Her brother is ridiculously unlikable and it's only a matter of time before some of her husband's strength rubs off on her and she taker the reins... Literally, in this case. I love the ... last one of MANY 'love' scenes by the end of Episode 2, in which Dany shows Drogo something he hasn't really seen before. Flesh is just flesh but the soul is still a soul...

Then come the characters of the strong women in this series. Yes, lady Catelyn is super cool as the loyal and very strong but kind and full of emotion and so on and so forth, she is the perfect good queen. On the other hand, Cersei (amazing name, by the way) is cold, manipulative, evil, bitchy, twisted and dangerous... or is she? The more I learn, the more I find her to be a little bit pathetic. Not as pathetic as her husband, but a little bit still. Also, there is Arya, who will probably have a very interesting stories to string, right up until the point where she goes blind. And I wouldn't mind knowing more about Irogenia.

Other cool people that will probably prove to be excellent men, just before they are backstabbed and killed: Tyrion the Dwarf, Jon Snow (The one with the pale wolf.) (...cause of the wolf, probably, and also probably cause bastards make for much more interesting forces than shiny knights (which are never really shiny, are they?))...plus several others I haven't had the chance to notice yet. And of course there will be a pleasure to watch a few (*akhem*Joffrey*akham*) squirm as they burn.

Oh, and I really like this line from one of the promo articles:

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Daenerys really likes pineapples..."

You talkin' ter me, mut?...

The beauty of the executioner of unrealizable ideas....

Left to sleep in the garden... :)

 There were lots of very pretty flowers.

 And also one rather ugly dog...  :p

Post op

Not too sure if I am still a bit under the influence or I am just glad to be back, but regardless of feeling - not like having LOW blood sugar but like having NO blood sugar - I am rather great. It certainly makes it all alright to be in someone's arms again, kissed much, warm and fed *anything* you desire. Me being me, having been fed only some very healthy tasteless food for the past days, I asked for the exact opposite and got plenty of McDonald's.  Heh. :p   Perks of being the patient. :))

         On Wednesday, the day I signed in, I remember being so nervous, I once stood on my own foot for twenty minutes and didn't realize it until I rendered myself immobile. But it wasn't a bad day - they took me in and were all very pleasant, changing my clothes and taking me to my room and explaining everything. Between a good book, some knitting, cell phone internet and texting with a bunch of hommies, I was copping a lot better than I would have been without. My roomies chatted merrily and there was plenty gossips going about. I now know a whole lot about other women's intimate problems, that's for sure. Am far too lazy to roam the nightly halls, explore, chat with nurses or try and do anything ink-worthy - and besides.... Anyone who's ever had to take a laxative and then hold it in for 30 minutes for good measure, knows that the longest *20* minutes of your life. I kind of fell asleep after that episode. People like me don't have to worry about not being able to sleep very often. We tend to regenerate admirably when feeling safe, warm and waiting. Any chance we get, we're out like a fat kitten.

            Supposedly Lyra, now home alone, managed to get out of the cage on Thursday morning and savagely massacred some of the trash and some of General's work documents and was then on her absolute best behavior when he got back home, but I don't remember most of that report, because I was out cold when post-op General was telling me back-home-stories. 

          The operation was rather lovely - again - they gave me a drug to calm me down (though knitting while your hands are shaking has it's privileges) and changed my gown yet again into a tiny cover-like-shirt. After that most things were ceilings and nostrils, lots of women wearing green scrubs and masks talking to me, gently, kindly, petting my arms and hair, covering me in dark green sheets... I enjoyed the rustle of linens and the massive lamps of the OR, some small talk about my tattoos and blood type and so on... The anesthesiologist lady was particularly friendly and talked me through the whole 'going under' phase - she ordered me to think of a happy place, but quickly, because I'm about to run out of time. That shit certainly works fast! None of that slowly drifting into the void that my dad is always so afraid of... I'm out like a switch every time. 

           There must have been some complications afterwards, probably just after the procedure, because I have some bruises on my arms and face and one of my eyes has a tiny pool of blood, though all I remember is that I tried to push out the tube, throwing up and they tried to push it back in. There was lots of shouting and they scraped my throat. Also, when in recovery, my blood lacked the oxygen, so I had to keep the mask on longer and I became spotty with some allergy. None of that really means anything to me. Whatever trouble I caused them, they seemed to handle it fine. I'm still here ;)

           Unlike my roommates, who were sick and couldn't sleep (and one who was just awful, behaving like a child along with her internet-hysterical parents - and we were all women around 30.  I slept all the time. I slept thorough the entire Thursday day and night and most of Friday morning. Waking up for food and to answer my phone so that General wouldn't raid the ward was more a mental effort than a physical want. With every passing hour I could feel myself getting more and more normal. Well, normal probably isn't the best choice of words. Nor is 'better'. Let's say - back on track.

          General came on Friday morning to collect me and eventually they gathered all of my clothing and paperwork and released me, but then I slept again in the car and as he had to return to work for a while, I slept during his absence also. Friends got me ice-cream and we went for a tiny walk (short, but time-consuming. Takes me fifteen minutes to get up the stairs.), mildly propelled by farting and self-demeaning cynical remarks on my part :)) Sorry I don't look like a sea-sick ballerina when I'm sick. I look as if I am really messed up, bloated, pale, my hair oily and my jaw drooping, bags under my eyes, my voice slow. But give me another good night and I should be spiff and spam and back on the street again. The catholics celebrate today as the day (3pm) their Zohan kicked it. I've an urge to watch the Last Temptation of Christ...  Also, to eat a lot of chocolate eggs. We may go to see my parents tomorrow about that. We'll see how that goes. :)

Still around :p

Off to the hospital. If I live, I'm back in a few days... Probably hungry. (There has been some mention of an ice-cream I get to look forward to.. :)) If I don't... well... It's been like all good chocolates: fierce, sticky, mysterious and gone way too early. To all the people I've met an instantly fell in love with: it has been a privilege messing with you :D To all the arseholes that made some of my days ugly: I'll have a talk with St. Peter when I get there and I'll make damn sure he pisses on you before he boots you away from the gate. Suffer well :P

A curious incident of two ice-cream eaters in the midnight :p

After-zumba-ice-cream eve produced a curious statement from my partner in crime. Before she joined me, I was waiting in the evening street (abandoned for the day but for yours truly), pressing my beak against the shop window of a frame store. I was trying to look at the street-lit pictures on display in the back, and photographs and reliefs... A woman came by, on her way home I guess, and saw me a little too late (I was a bit in a niche). I suppose she must have thought me strange and a bit suspicious, because she would stare at me for the next ten steps, even turning several times afterwards. No, it wasn't my looks that troubled her so, it was that i was looking at the paintings so closely. Yes, lady. I am the infamous old-wives-tales painting eater. I snack them down with frames an' all.

          My friend then jogged up and I mentioned what went down and she mused on how she would describe this anecdote just as it was, without any fantastic elements, whereas I instantly produced a tale of a creature that gorges art. She did it so that the vast gorge between my need for actual account and witty fiction became even more apparent... I have to think about what that means. It would be foolish to assume I can still stand on both sides as I did in younger years - or perhaps I can do that now even more easily, twisting and turning the tone of my narrative the way I see fit with the slightest of mentions?

Hospital quality time and delving into the artistic nude

I've gotta go to surgery again, this time for three days and I am fiercely looking for which book to take along the 'So yesterday'-  as I worry I may be bored at some point. (Not a fan of boredom. Probably the thing about hospitals that freaks me out the most.) Before I go, the busybee, I'm trying to get my taxes up and running on my own terms - it *can* be done, I can circumnavigate certain pointless expenses, I just need to dig a route through all the procedures and middle-men. Some people are oddly kind and helpful while I do this, others are like trying to get a joke out of a sphinx. Am also trying to get people to pay me for my services while I'm at it. Customarily, I ask, imply, hint and invite the customer three or four times, before unleashing the General upon them... Hihi, he got an entire package of large rice chocolates for his birthday from his in-laws. I've never seen anyone carry home that much and I'm a fiend for supplies! :D ...Can two people eat 36 chocolates in one week?? Dunno. But I'll let you know how I do.

           As a trial, I've shot an artistic nude yesterday. It wasn't half as awkward or odd as I was afraid - having never shot a nude before, not counting people I've been wanting to sleep with, such as my gay best friend, whom to be frank, back in the day, I never really saw much clothed. But this was rather professional by comparison, I must say... there was almost no blushing, no stuttering, no staring or trying not to stare - really no weirdness to it at all. The beautiful woman who posed was super intrigued and I was totally preoccupied with the lights and the poses and the fact General was miserable somewhere else in the apartment, locked out of the day room, unable to play on the computer or watch his afternoon leisure shows in TV. We took my record 1290 shots in about nine or ten different 'chapters' and it was magnificent. (Trust me to take *portraits* of a naked person. Honestly.) It worried me, the whole idea of it, because the nude is once again an entirely unfamiliar field (regardless of how avidly I follow Ivory Underworld Blog and study the shoots there) - who am stuck between the representative head-shots and the glamour of commercial pieces, fashion and beauty. The nude is less about the face, but more so that fashion shoots, and ALL about the light and line - the form. And you need a witty twist on every single one of them - be it lock of hair, a smile, a prop, an effect - anything really, that makes it not boring, done to death or 'safe bet' and yet entirely about the beauty dressed only in skin. I was lucky to have a truly flawless model and all the retouching goes to removing odd things hanging from the ceiling (the room IS half the size now :) Oh, and I have to stress: I am so proud of myself: it did it all, soup to nuts, with the 50mm. The wide-lens zoom never even left the table. 

          On a high note, while I'm on it :P - the first episode of The Game of Thrones is out and I will make a movie night out of it and we will both see what the fuss is about. Will we love it or will we be so bored we'll start having sex before we even get to bed?? ;))

Teatime with the girls :)

Felt like the perfect Saturday eve... :D