tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57502592012-02-12T05:08:45.341+01:00Mildred Hockstedder on Man's role in the universe: "I don't think he can. Roll. ...Not round enough."<br>(From "The Muppet Show", ep. 9, season 1)Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.comBlogger11921100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-567800297045057782012-02-11T19:58:00.000+01:002012-02-11T20:05:51.355+01:00Somewhere on the bus on the way back to the airport I realized that there was no Wordless Wednesday post this week. And since two-day seminars way up on 815 meter high mountain tops tend to knock a body out, I'm getting around to posting some photos for you only now.<br /> <br /> The nice thing about such trips is getting the chance to see a place I wouldn't normally travel to. I am no snow bunny. I live in a country known for its skiers, yet have not put planks on my feet in over 10 years. Give me the warming hut!<br /> <br /> After an early plane trip from Bergen to Oslo, then a two hour bus ride into one of the prettiest places in Norway, there was no hot chocolate waiting for me. Just these spectacular views of <a href="http://www.norefjell.com/index.php?id=1&lang=en">Norefjell</a> ski resort, site of the 1952 winter olympics (they made do with less back then):<br /> <br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0G0Kr5L1K0Q/Tza1aQMt38I/AAAAAAAABX0/NEiKTTTu3kI/s1600/Norefjell_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0G0Kr5L1K0Q/Tza1aQMt38I/AAAAAAAABX0/NEiKTTTu3kI/s400/Norefjell_1.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QDpVolumQEU/Tza1a0DwBoI/AAAAAAAABYA/dgga1-qjBro/s1600/Norefjell_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QDpVolumQEU/Tza1a0DwBoI/AAAAAAAABYA/dgga1-qjBro/s400/Norefjell_2.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pXWMUahGSrI/Tza2uUDtyRI/AAAAAAAABYM/jG_htUlYAK8/s1600/Norefjell_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pXWMUahGSrI/Tza2uUDtyRI/AAAAAAAABYM/jG_htUlYAK8/s400/Norefjell_3.jpg" /></a></div><br /> It was so lovely, nobody wanted to stay in. Even we warming hut nuts skipped the hotel spa offerings and took a little walk. Many of the Norwegians in our party got in an Easter mood, the Easter break being the time of year for the last chance to do some serious skiing - often in bright, warming sunshine. The sun here brought the air up to a very pleasant -1C/30F, and we all ended up on the hotel's west balcony. Cold beer sure tastes good in this climate!<br /> <br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Hh6kLKPAEls/Tza4CxU8buI/AAAAAAAABYY/5C7WMbVudH4/s1600/Norefjell_walk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Hh6kLKPAEls/Tza4CxU8buI/AAAAAAAABYY/5C7WMbVudH4/s400/Norefjell_walk.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RJyS1b20TpQ/Tza4DJpZUjI/AAAAAAAABYk/hwAvd8FwiAc/s1600/Norefjell_vest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RJyS1b20TpQ/Tza4DJpZUjI/AAAAAAAABYk/hwAvd8FwiAc/s400/Norefjell_vest.jpg" /></a></div><br /> Not being a snow bunny, I do not own clothes fit for -15C/5F, so bought mittens the day before and fleece tights. I do own a down parka, and with wool and fleece layered under jeans and sweater, extra wool socks in my boots, wool cap and scarf, I was ready for our sledding competition after sundown. That's when I realized I hadn't done that in about 40 years! At least I didn't fall off.<br /> <br /> I stayed warm enough for the hour our little competition took, and gratefully went indoors to change for the evening party. The inside of the hotel was certainly warm enough, and provided some rather interesting decor:<br /> <br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5eQRCRUUuC0/Tza4Dr54znI/AAAAAAAABYw/xy6ZaU789zg/s1600/Norefjell_stol.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5eQRCRUUuC0/Tza4Dr54znI/AAAAAAAABYw/xy6ZaU789zg/s400/Norefjell_stol.jpg" /></a></div><br /> The next morning we woke up to thick clouds and snow. Thankfully, all our activities on day 2 were indoor ones.<br /> <br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OkJsAUtp7_w/Tza4dg1LJpI/AAAAAAAABY8/n_1lWZAxc8E/s1600/Norefjell_4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OkJsAUtp7_w/Tza4dg1LJpI/AAAAAAAABY8/n_1lWZAxc8E/s400/Norefjell_4.jpg" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-56780029704505778?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-64340578042329355592012-02-01T08:02:00.000+01:002012-02-01T08:02:00.814+01:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_eGvOfpQKSk/Tybpc5PoRHI/AAAAAAAABXo/sbKkE7mjuL0/s1600/Peekaboo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_eGvOfpQKSk/Tybpc5PoRHI/AAAAAAAABXo/sbKkE7mjuL0/s400/Peekaboo.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-6434057804232935559?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-48448058812738973582012-01-25T08:03:00.000+01:002012-01-25T17:31:11.260+01:00<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A4WEt5E3EGY/TtPpDEjFUxI/AAAAAAAABV4/H0GVYqL1dC4/s1600/SaltLamp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="286" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A4WEt5E3EGY/TtPpDEjFUxI/AAAAAAAABV4/H0GVYqL1dC4/s400/SaltLamp.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-4844805881273897358?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-37431513956173988462012-01-18T08:05:00.000+01:002012-01-18T08:05:00.453+01:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NVPIqZx4F94/TxXUvQiU9HI/AAAAAAAABXU/PlUgelXI5MI/s1600/MoreThanFruit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NVPIqZx4F94/TxXUvQiU9HI/AAAAAAAABXU/PlUgelXI5MI/s400/MoreThanFruit.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-3743151395617398846?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-66785636759193737042012-01-11T08:52:00.000+01:002012-01-11T08:52:00.343+01:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Tmot1OUI78o/TwylIeZ_UqI/AAAAAAAABW4/Zy6uLyUEbwQ/s1600/Moonrise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Tmot1OUI78o/TwylIeZ_UqI/AAAAAAAABW4/Zy6uLyUEbwQ/s400/Moonrise.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-6678563675919373704?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-59043177162767479632012-01-04T09:07:00.000+01:002012-01-04T09:07:00.979+01:00<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UdFjI284gUQ/TtPqBUnvhWI/AAAAAAAABWQ/3ankweFjrvo/s1600/CloudVarieties.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="343" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UdFjI284gUQ/TtPqBUnvhWI/AAAAAAAABWQ/3ankweFjrvo/s400/CloudVarieties.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-5904317716276747963?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-46139122350941689282011-12-28T08:30:00.000+01:002011-12-28T08:30:00.104+01:00<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-So5vqJBBJO4/TtPqaf8-9UI/AAAAAAAABWc/fBrgrCLa9rw/s1600/FurnitureFruit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-So5vqJBBJO4/TtPqaf8-9UI/AAAAAAAABWc/fBrgrCLa9rw/s400/FurnitureFruit.jpg" /></a></div><p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-4613912235094168928?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-84403506028232496412011-12-21T07:05:00.000+01:002011-12-21T07:05:01.341+01:00<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_tpMerWhH38/TtPpmsO-5NI/AAAAAAAABWE/LvES2TiEORY/s1600/XmasTorgalmenning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_tpMerWhH38/TtPpmsO-5NI/AAAAAAAABWE/LvES2TiEORY/s400/XmasTorgalmenning.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-8440350602823249641?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-73519948205233803102011-12-14T09:01:00.000+01:002011-12-14T09:01:03.461+01:00<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Tat1DnPW0fk/TtPohAxSXSI/AAAAAAAABVs/jeAx4JINRlo/s1600/XmasWrapping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Tat1DnPW0fk/TtPohAxSXSI/AAAAAAAABVs/jeAx4JINRlo/s400/XmasWrapping.jpg" /></a></div><p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-7351994820523380310?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-57142890922788785922011-12-07T07:22:00.000+01:002011-12-07T07:22:00.074+01:00<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RFmge2BzbGA/Tt6HdCcQlkI/AAAAAAAABWo/yREUexGW2Wo/s1600/SnowDay2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RFmge2BzbGA/Tt6HdCcQlkI/AAAAAAAABWo/yREUexGW2Wo/s400/SnowDay2011.jpg" /></a></div><p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-5714289092278878592?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-81243973653646743782011-11-30T08:56:00.000+01:002011-11-30T08:56:00.743+01:00<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uj29LJZFxK4/TtPngpbu3UI/AAAAAAAABVg/m24KGo2VP_s/s1600/AdventLights.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uj29LJZFxK4/TtPngpbu3UI/AAAAAAAABVg/m24KGo2VP_s/s400/AdventLights.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-8124397365364674378?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-82777290914031401492011-11-23T21:28:00.001+01:002011-11-23T21:28:56.831+01:00<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-opWTXaMy73k/Ts1XSSGNoJI/AAAAAAAABVU/P09IykFil3U/s1600/Rippled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-opWTXaMy73k/Ts1XSSGNoJI/AAAAAAAABVU/P09IykFil3U/s400/Rippled.jpg" /></a></div><p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-8277729091403140149?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-69723059137665040952011-11-16T19:50:00.001+01:002011-11-16T19:50:53.699+01:00<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wgUbMTzpK1U/TsQF0xFhxvI/AAAAAAAABVE/AWHZtDG7UYo/s1600/Silhouettes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wgUbMTzpK1U/TsQF0xFhxvI/AAAAAAAABVE/AWHZtDG7UYo/s400/Silhouettes.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-6972305913766504095?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-89694470009862097372011-11-09T08:44:00.000+01:002011-11-09T08:44:01.075+01:00<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3k8rFXrRCpY/TrmUtWukdgI/AAAAAAAABUk/yn7-aBJMK-c/s1600/Fog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="237" width="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3k8rFXrRCpY/TrmUtWukdgI/AAAAAAAABUk/yn7-aBJMK-c/s400/Fog.jpg" /></a></div><p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-8969447000986209737?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-34727861463446574612011-11-02T08:20:00.000+01:002011-11-02T08:20:00.283+01:00<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RP4LuatbQgc/TrBUmLK6oXI/AAAAAAAABUA/gb27CulX_3s/s1600/FallByTheSoccerField.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RP4LuatbQgc/TrBUmLK6oXI/AAAAAAAABUA/gb27CulX_3s/s400/FallByTheSoccerField.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-3472786146344657461?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-11370826800752756632011-10-26T08:08:00.000+02:002011-10-26T08:08:00.112+02:00<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Fhye9jpF3c4/TqbQ404xyuI/AAAAAAAABTw/rJniZjOCRxM/s1600/AutumnLeaves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Fhye9jpF3c4/TqbQ404xyuI/AAAAAAAABTw/rJniZjOCRxM/s400/AutumnLeaves.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-1137082680075275663?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-79554647334847632982011-10-21T18:42:00.002+02:002011-10-21T18:43:21.040+02:00This is a response to the comments on my <a href="http://kafox.blogspot.com/2011/08/wordless-wednesday-fit-for-king.html">Wordless Wednesday post</a> showing a part of Håkonshallen, especially Alice's thoughts that it looks like a prison. Nothing could be further from the truth so I thought I'd give you a whole post about that. <br /> <br /> First, the pronounciation of Håkonshallen (the hall of Håkon): That funny "a" in the first syllable is a Scandinavian vowel, and pronounced like a very open "o" (approaching an ah). HOH-kohns-hahllenn.<br /> <br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BtMTOEwKhZM/TqGWRvh5l2I/AAAAAAAABTk/EYd6GH6k3Mg/s1600/HH_vestgavl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BtMTOEwKhZM/TqGWRvh5l2I/AAAAAAAABTk/EYd6GH6k3Mg/s400/HH_vestgavl.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /> The 750-year-old Håkonshallen is beloved by the people of Bergen, and those massive stone walls make an excellent backdrop for outdoor operas. I've seen "Aida" there. The walls would have been painted white in medieval times, as was the custom then. It has occurred to me that many tourists miss this building, because they are distracted by the rather fascinating row that precedes it:<br /> <br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0UPKsbc0NMk/TqGWQ605NQI/AAAAAAAABTM/4DXC9lGEkh4/s1600/HH_inBergen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0UPKsbc0NMk/TqGWQ605NQI/AAAAAAAABTM/4DXC9lGEkh4/s400/HH_inBergen.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> In really old days, when the main mode of long-distance transportation was the boat or ship, Norway consisted of today's western mainland, the islands north of the British isles (like Shetland and Faeroy, etc.) and Iceland. Bergen was then the capital, meaning it happened to be where the king lived (as it turns out, Norway's had three capitals, all depending on where the king decided to have his throne). The first laws of the land were written in Bergen in 1276 by king Magnus Lagabøter (Magnus Law-Improver), son of the King Håkon for whom the hall was built. The first activity in the new hall was prince Magnus' wedding. (In case you're keeping track, that would be King Håkon IV and King Magnus VI.)<br /> <br /> Håkonshallen has survived fires, neglect and a massive explosion on the harbor in 1944, which took out everything except the stone walls. The hall was lovingly restored and I finally got to see inside in 1988. That's when my grandpa was invited to a medal ceremony for his participation in the war effort as a member of the Norwegian merchant marine.<br /> <br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a2Nco3DX3SM/TqGWRWUkj-I/AAAAAAAABTY/41Tb9vIuQxI/s1600/HH_inside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a2Nco3DX3SM/TqGWRWUkj-I/AAAAAAAABTY/41Tb9vIuQxI/s400/HH_inside.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> The above picture from a concert this June shows what the inside looks like with rows and rows of seats filled. (The acoustics aren't too bad.) It was a bit like that with my grandpa. He was 87, dressed in his blue-gray light wool suit and polished brown shoes that he seemed to have had my entire life, and he looked so proud. I was a bit surprised by that, since he never talked about the war. But on that sunny day, surrounded by hundreds of other old sailors (a few were women), he was immersed in the honor and the formality of the occasion. Grandpa has received three medals for his efforts. I took them home with me when Grandma went to the nursing home and they hang on my wall.<br /> <br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kNEUuNSkUUI/TqGWQtKLB_I/AAAAAAAABS0/ipNphASCgcI/s1600/GrandpaMedalje.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kNEUuNSkUUI/TqGWQtKLB_I/AAAAAAAABS0/ipNphASCgcI/s400/GrandpaMedalje.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /> The above medal was the one Grandpa got in 1988, signed by King Olav V. The text reads (my translation):<br /> <blockquote>For especially long and effort-filled service on Norwegian and/or Allied merchant ships during the world war 1939&ndash;45 and thereby rendered great service to Norway's cause.</blockquote><br /> A portrait Grandma made of the man himself hangs above my desk.<br /> <br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hRpdqKc1xNA/TqGWQnoZPyI/AAAAAAAABS8/3kmbLmjjANI/s1600/GrandpaPortrait.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hRpdqKc1xNA/TqGWQnoZPyI/AAAAAAAABS8/3kmbLmjjANI/s400/GrandpaPortrait.jpg" width="345" /></a></div><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-7955464733484763298?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-43976728165957639152011-10-19T07:57:00.000+02:002011-10-19T07:57:00.208+02:00<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V0li3a-wDXM/Tp3L5hFw3AI/AAAAAAAABSo/74iVtAqaPkc/s1600/AtTheBusStop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="376" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V0li3a-wDXM/Tp3L5hFw3AI/AAAAAAAABSo/74iVtAqaPkc/s400/AtTheBusStop.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-4397672816595763915?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-27516260911715858562011-10-16T17:49:00.001+02:002011-10-16T17:49:19.143+02:00I am going down yet another rabbit hole. It diverges from the one I was falling down about <a href="http://kafox.blogspot.com/2010/05/getting-my-beliefs-challenged.html">a year and a half ago</a>. At least somewhat. All roads lead to Rome, but not all are main highways and will get you to your final destination; they do move you forward, though.<br /> <br /> My new rabbit hole is all about how, if I forgive everyone and everything, we will all cease to exist and happily so.<br /> <br /> Some background:<br /> <br /> I accidentally learned of <a href="http://kafox.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-love-you-thank-you.html">ho'oponopono</a>. In looking for more information, I ended up reading Joe Vitale's book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Zero-Limits-Secret-Hawaiian-System/dp/0470402563/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1318768296&sr=1-1">"Zero Limits"</a> (and I really liked it). All my decades of swearing to affirmations to accomplish something got set aside while I instead practiced on chanting "I love you" inside my head. I have since gone back to using my usual morning affirmation since that seems to be such a good set-up for me and my day.¹ However, the ho'oponopono method makes perfect sense to me and it is far simpler (and more foolproof) than affirmations. Affirmations require wording yourself carefully, being aware of what you are asking for, and even being aware of what you need to ask for. Ho'oponopono lets you say, "I have no f-ing clue what's wrong with me, so I'll just forgive what's happening right now." So any situation that triggers you can be forgiven and therefore healed and removed from your experience. You don't even have to know why you were triggered.<br /> <br /> Searching for more information on ho'oponopono led me to the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Disappearance-Universe-Straight-Illusions-Forgiveness/dp/1401905668/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1318773215&sr=1-2">Disappearance of the Universe</a>. This is my new rabbit hole and is even more mind-blowing than "What the Bleep…".<br /> <br /> Back to the present:<br /> <br /> Reading the "Disappearance of the Universe" (DU) kept reminding me of my favorite novel, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Illusions-Adventures-Reluctant-Richard-Bach/dp/0385319258/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1318777999&sr=1-1">"Illusions"</a> by Richard Bach. Both books are about how nothing we see is real. In "Illusions" it is suggested that once we realize nothing is real, we can do with reality as we wish because it's all in our minds, anyway. In DU, the message is that once you realize nothing is real, it all disappears. Both are saying reality isn't what we think it is &ndash; no, wait, that's exactly what reality is.<br /> <br /> DU is channeled material (for lack of better words) that helps the author clarify his own study of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Course-Miracles-Dr-Helen-Schucman/dp/1883360250/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1318778236&sr=1-1">"A Course in Miracles"</a> (ACIM) and spiritual development. He is told that once we all heal ourselves by removing our illusions, all the ego's magic tricks go away &ndash; body, mind, universe and all &ndash; and we all go back to being one with God again.<br /> <br /> As I understand "DU", "we" don't exist. We imagine ourselves to exist, as individuals separate from both God and each other. As part of this illusion, we also have made up trees and kittens, black holes and galaxies, politicians and wars. It is all one humongous props department, so that we can stage whatever we want to keep the ego happy and God at bay. But on a God level, there is no Keera, there is no you, my dear reader. In as much that you exist for me, you are only one of my many illusions. And yet, I am also one of yours. How mind-boggling is that? Whose reality is this???<br /> <br /> This is where my brain fails me and I cannot imagine how we are all one, still a part of God but oblivious to God (because He can't acknowledge something He's not) and also seeing each other as independent individuals. I'm also not sure about the explanation for why we all/I decided to make up galaxies and dolphins and then get embarrassed about it and hide from God (to put "original act of ego" in a nutshell). I keep hoping the penny will drop, but for now it sits lodged in my metaphorical coin slot.<br /> <br /> I am far more comfortable with the claim that God didn't even create any of this, not even the good parts (as disappointing as that is), because that would truly explain why God allows cancer and the evening news. According to DU, God doesn't even know these things exist because &ndash; again &ndash; God can't acknowledge something He's not. God is only love.<br /> <br /> And now you have some idea of what DU is about.<br /> <br /> I look at the huge brick that is my copy of ACIM, and I also have a Kindle version. Many years ago I tried to understand the whole forgiveness and atonement (at-one-ment) thing in ACIM but gave up. ACIM is itself a very demanding read.<br /> <br /> But there is something about all this that is very appealing. In DU, you can apparently heal any lifetime you may have had by forgiving everything and everyone in this lifetime. Even just getting rid of the troubles of this lifetime would be rewarding enough. What gets me is what might happen next. That bye-bye universe thing.<br /> <br /> For now, I will read another Gary Renard book (he has three), and practice ho'oponopono more actively. If the penny drops, I'll let you know.<br /> <br /> <br /> <i>1) Breathe in while focusing on something natural (a tree, the sky) or with eyes closed, and say, "I breathe in the cosmic forces of the universe asking for strength protection and guidance." Exhale and repeat.</i><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-2751626091171585856?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-27176075633324356562011-10-15T20:06:00.002+02:002011-10-15T20:06:47.972+02:00This is a test for <a href="http://www.thorg.com/2011/10/snafu.html">my friend Alice</a>, for whom Blogger is not working.<br /> <br /> You may ignore this post completely, but if you've read this far, you haven't so ignore what I said.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-2717607563332435656?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-69572743231312552262011-10-12T08:30:00.000+02:002011-10-12T08:30:03.012+02:00<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RIOsyt-Okns/TpSXfwtziRI/AAAAAAAABSc/Q7SlyyRvhWI/s1600/HappyHeater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RIOsyt-Okns/TpSXfwtziRI/AAAAAAAABSc/Q7SlyyRvhWI/s400/HappyHeater.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-6957274323131255226?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-48552415205435906632011-10-05T08:48:00.000+02:002011-10-05T08:48:00.438+02:00<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_2M0hN_m4LE/TotU0zRP47I/AAAAAAAABSU/n8FFu9p5teE/s1600/HeatwaveAutumn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_2M0hN_m4LE/TotU0zRP47I/AAAAAAAABSU/n8FFu9p5teE/s400/HeatwaveAutumn.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-4855241520543590663?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-65580606740550729022011-09-28T08:10:00.000+02:002011-09-28T08:10:00.405+02:00<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TefiZyn4mzo/ToIDkniZ4sI/AAAAAAAABSM/Hci2tLwb2E8/s1600/Christinegaard_Sandviken.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TefiZyn4mzo/ToIDkniZ4sI/AAAAAAAABSM/Hci2tLwb2E8/s400/Christinegaard_Sandviken.jpg" /></a></div><p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-6558060674055072902?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-16367621791392880972011-09-21T08:00:00.000+02:002011-09-21T08:00:08.469+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_kF9w5i1MQI/Tni5VCXdLfI/AAAAAAAABSE/NMkzfQb_2-w/s1600/LateSummerBloom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="267" width="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_kF9w5i1MQI/Tni5VCXdLfI/AAAAAAAABSE/NMkzfQb_2-w/s400/LateSummerBloom.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-1636762179139288097?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-70059010268122857982011-09-18T12:47:00.001+02:002011-09-18T12:47:36.805+02:00OK, yesterday's post came out of the blue. For you. For me, it was the result of a Friday at work full of carbs: Bread, fruit juice and two kinds of cake. And that was breakfast at work.<br /> <br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vF-fHrvbxpk/TnXIVH4YpCI/AAAAAAAABR0/UhUZUmc35X4/s1600/Cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="318" width="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vF-fHrvbxpk/TnXIVH4YpCI/AAAAAAAABR0/UhUZUmc35X4/s320/Cake.jpg" /></a></div><br /> Still under the influence of all the carbs, I let myself take some leftovers home with me. I had tasted the carrot cake and it was yummy, and chocolate cake has always gone down well, too. But this, my dear reader, is what has changed and why I <a href="http://kafox.blogspot.com/2011/09/food-post-with-kale.html">wrote yesterday</a>: I have absolutely no desire for the leftover cake. <br /> <br /> I find myself having to talk myself into eating it so that I don't have to throw it out. I woke up this morning laying out strategies for how to get to a point where I would want cake. My current plan is to have my two pieces in lieu of dinner; dinner itself will be eaten mid-afternoonish.<br /> <br /> I was never a carbaholic, but I used to buy donuts, Danish, carrot cake, chocolate cake, brownies, etc., on a regular basis (i.e. 1&ndash;2 times a week). I would happily buy some cake to have at home for myself for the weekend or during a holiday. I used to love anything made out of flour! Waffles, pancakes, cold cereal, oh, man, best food ever!<br /> <br /> The fact that I now have to talk myself into eating something made out of flour fascinates me. What a change in my body chemisty and therefore in my thinking! (I still keep chocolate in the house, though. I am a woman, after all.)<br /> <br /> And this change is what had me typing yesterday. My current choice in diet seems to be quite beneficial for me on so many levels. And I find it funny that those slices of cake could probably live to a ripe old age in my refrigerator and not get missed, ever.<br /> <br /> PS: Breakfast today, described yesterday. If you look closely, you'll see two shades of white in the food: The bluer one is the coconut cream.<br /> <br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wx8RxRybjf0/TnXL4Gp0NkI/AAAAAAAABR8/Id0cQ0cK4lI/s1600/Breakfast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wx8RxRybjf0/TnXL4Gp0NkI/AAAAAAAABR8/Id0cQ0cK4lI/s400/Breakfast.jpg" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-7005901026812285798?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-58450596078838947952011-09-17T20:46:00.000+02:002011-09-18T12:51:13.696+02:00So I've heard of the wonders of kale (called "green cabbage" in Norway) and this time of year our supermarkets carry it. The plant is perfect for temperate climates because a bit of frost makes it taste better. It can be used in anything you would use (cooked) spinach in and has about the same nutrients.<br /> <br /> I'd heard of kale chips and made a batch. They came out all brown because the recipe said 10 minutes (very crispy they were!). I tried again today. I tore the leaves into bite-sized pieces, dribbled olive oil over followed by a sprinkle of tasty BBQ-type spice mix ("grillkrydder"). I let them bake for 7 minutes at 150 degrees Celsius. For my oven, that was perfect. The kale chips were still green but now crunchy. <br /> <br /> I ate the whole tray in one sitting, and I've realized that if you make kale chips just right, they're like all those other chips: You can't stop after just a few. These melt in your mouth! For that reason, I'm not sure I'll repeat this particular experiment again. But, boy, did they taste good!<br /> <br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h6xawUZmkYw/TnTnkxNLO7I/AAAAAAAABRk/jmvGYyEIEuQ/s1600/KalePrep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left; margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h6xawUZmkYw/TnTnkxNLO7I/AAAAAAAABRk/jmvGYyEIEuQ/s320/KalePrep.jpg" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DaiIty2Sln8/TnTnvbVmhEI/AAAAAAAABRs/wgToK_ZtrLk/s1600/KaleChips.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DaiIty2Sln8/TnTnvbVmhEI/AAAAAAAABRs/wgToK_ZtrLk/s320/KaleChips.jpg" /></a><br /> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /> I keep trying to make good food for myself. I have been low-carbing for almost 14 months, and have never felt better. I swear by <a href="http://www.thelivinlowcarbshow.com/shownotes/">Jimmy Moore's podcasts</a> as a way to keep myself updated on research in the field and have learned that as we age, we all probably need to cut carbohydrates, because carbs seem to wear us out faster than proteins and fats do. As someone who swore by whole grains for years, I found myself no longer able to digest them. I had heard that we get lactose intolerant with age because our ability to produce the lactase enzyme diminishes with age. It looks like something similar happens with carbs; we seem to get more gluten sensitive as we grow older.<br /> <br /> After a year of eggs (mostly) for breakfast, and no more bread at lunch or rice with dinner, I have shrunk 4 pants sizes (without additional exercise), nails have gotten stronger, and digestive problems have gone away. I sleep better and think better, in spite of perimenopause. I was having a bit of brain-fog (or meno-fog) and even some surprising joint pains earlier this week, which may be either due to too much protein or a potassium shortage. My body guided me to the right solution even before I googled it; I bought a large container of Greek yoghurt, hazelnuts and sunflower seeds. I also got fresh blueberries and coconut cream. Talk about a bit of luxury! It tastes and looks good and I really enjoy the variation from soft-boiled eggs.<br /> <br /> I do find myself missing my old eating habits sometimes (thank goodness for this <a href="http://primalliving.blogspot.com/2009/04/ricks-primal-pancakes.html">low-carb pancake recipe</a>!). There are times when I wish I could be vegetarian again, or have a nice bowl of oatmeal for breakfast. But as I keep reading about food and the chemistry of metabolic syndrome, and also about gluten, I realize that I'd be asking for trouble if I started eating grains again on a regular basis, or giving up the best source of amino acids (meat). I think I'd be more satisfied with my current diet choice if I get more adventurous with vegetables in my diet.<br /> <br /> You wouldn't know it from this post, but I don't really care much about food. I care about health. Food is a part of health; food is medicine. I do enjoy gourmet foods, the seven-course meals with seven wines, because my taste buds work fine. I'm just not interested in how that food is made. I admire those who do know how to put magic on a plate because I find it baffling. I never watch cooking shows for that reason; I just don't understand what's happening. (As a girl, I had to ask five times for help before I finally understood how to make scrambled eggs, the simplest dish in the world.) I also get bored and so will step away from the stove. I use a timer to keep track of seconds and minutes so I don't forget what I was doing. (You're not the only one suspecting I have ADD.) For these reasons, I love recipes where all the ingredients go into one pan or pot and cook together. One-dish meals. I can chop stuff (and that's when I listen to the podcasts). So when I pick through my recipe books, I'm usually looking for something that resembles a one-dish meal. Fry up the chicken while all the veggies roast together sort of thing.<br /> <br /> Surprisingly, my food ends up tasting good. May not ever look photogenic, but it tastes fine. So that's a blessing. I do feel a need to be more adventurous, to get more variety in my kitchen. Something like gourmet cooking for kitchen klutzes who can hardly hold a paring knife.<br /> <br /> I know what that means: Salads. <br /> <br /> Hmmm… Time to use my new library card and get some recipe books on salads. I love salads!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-5845059607883894795?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-26687083462174795492011-09-14T08:21:00.000+02:002011-09-14T08:21:00.562+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EBRDf97_TP8/Tm-C_OQoH7I/AAAAAAAABRc/WTO_nFMzvqU/s1600/DelicateSunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="370" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EBRDf97_TP8/Tm-C_OQoH7I/AAAAAAAABRc/WTO_nFMzvqU/s400/DelicateSunset.jpg" /></a></div><p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-2668708346217479549?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-73099230920517923012011-09-06T23:00:00.000+02:002011-09-06T23:00:02.033+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pNq59jFcEBY/TmO3BrCL1rI/AAAAAAAABRU/CDNCPodGPPw/s1600/Rockpile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pNq59jFcEBY/TmO3BrCL1rI/AAAAAAAABRU/CDNCPodGPPw/s400/Rockpile.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-7309923092051792301?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-1706581453689299332011-09-04T19:13:00.003+02:002011-09-04T19:29:21.127+02:00<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d4M4R-sIP9E/TmOwvIX_b4I/AAAAAAAABRE/QLr5oIGPYB0/s1600/Valgbod.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="250" width="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d4M4R-sIP9E/TmOwvIX_b4I/AAAAAAAABRE/QLr5oIGPYB0/s400/Valgbod.jpg" /></a></div></p><p>My high school teacher told us students that we may not have anything to vote for, but we always have something to vote against. That statement has often been the only reason I have bothered to vote.</p><p>In the US it is easy to find who or what to vote against. Most questions there are yes/no: The Democrat candidate? Yes/no. A yes means the Republican candidate gets a &ldquo;no&rdquo;. I definitely voted against Jimmy Carter in 1980, and against Sarah Palin in 2008. I have no vested interest in the candidates who got my &ldquo;yes&rdquo; since all presidents annoy me (they just do), and since I know that politics &ndash; and the presidency &ndash; tend to be like farming: Hard to do without producing a pile of manure.</p><p>Now, the US does have more than two political parties and they often offer presidential candidates, but due to changes in how the presidential debates are held, you never hear from them.</p><p>In Norway, as with most European countries, there are several political parties. Norway has seven that offer the usual gang of idiots in our parliament, and a couple of minor ones that sometimes appear on a national level. There are also strictly local parties, like Bergen’s &ldquo;The City Air Party&rdquo;, formed this year specifically to deal with the ever-increasing air pollution that settles on us during winter months when we have high pressure systems and no wind.</p><p>My challenge, as a foreign citizen with the right to vote locally, but not nationally, is that I do not have the option of voting against anyone. There is no &ldquo;against&rdquo; in a system where the seven parties can form coalitions if no single one of them wins enough votes to rule alone. (Norway’s current national government is a three-party red-green coalition.)</p><p>Norwegians hold the idea of &ldquo;secret ballot&rdquo; very dear, to the point that no one will tell me exactly how they vote so it’s a bit hard to discuss politics with people outside of family and close friends. I therefore have to figure out who to vote for on my own.</p><p>The headache for a girl who likes to keep things simple is to find the party that annoys me the least. And who won’t enter into a coalition with a party that annoys me a lot. I am told by Norwegian friends that this is the correct way to approach Norwegian politics.</p><p>My lack of admiration for Bergen’s current right-winged government had me sniffing around the middle where I usually fall politically, but the parties that tend to occupy that space haven’t been impressing me, either. So I read the programs for parties that lean to the left. The one that offered concrete plans for Bergen and Hordaland (our province) in plain Norwegian got my vote. No, not the Labor Party. I am not swayed by <a href="http://kafox.blogspot.com/2011/07/week-later.html">this summer’s events</a> here, so no sympathy voting for them.</p><p>Norway has managed to avoid the financial crises that have affected the US and the EU. Norwegians themselves have a lot of money to burn, and it’s a materialism I’m not happy to see develope. We’re turning into America, with an attitude that as long as the indiviual can enjoy a cushy lifestyle, who needs a competent government, let alone pay for it. </p><p>Inspired by Thatcherism, Norway has fiddled with privatizing certain public services, like home nursing and park services and snow clearing. Some parties want to privatize more. My attitude is that some things should never be run for profit (like schools and hospitals) and some services need to be available to everyone, regardless of income level (like schools and hospitals).</p><p>One issue that matters to me as a voter is that, as someone without a car, I want a viable city center and good bus connections to it. Norway loves to emulate the US, and Norwegians have a similar love affair with the car that Americans do. The result is that in a city center that holds half our city’s 250,000 population, there is no place to buy a sofa &ndash; with the exception of a few expensive designer boutiques and the Salvation Army. Everything’s been moved to suburban shopping malls. What stores are left in the city center are struggling. I hope for better and greener city planning. Dedicated bike lanes would be nice. I hate being surprised by cyclists on the sidewalk.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uG_lxOlN9XA/TmOw4vYDTfI/AAAAAAAABRM/_zDDH6Cxivo/s1600/Valgkort.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em""><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uG_lxOlN9XA/TmOw4vYDTfI/AAAAAAAABRM/_zDDH6Cxivo/s320/Valgkort.jpg" /></a></div><p>Election day this year is September 12, and on that day we raise the flag and our government-run liquor monopoly stores are closed. (Norway in a nutshell, that.) However, we have early voting, so I took my voter’s card to the local library last week and stuffed my envelope with the candidate lists for the almost-communist party. They are one of the coalition parties in our national government and I don’t really like them, but this election year they are the party that annoys me the least.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-170658145368929933?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-85353122181235726262011-08-31T08:15:00.000+02:002011-08-31T08:15:00.449+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SdiL3o2qs9k/TlvzkAWQX2I/AAAAAAAABQ8/M817A2KkJk0/s1600/Malerisk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SdiL3o2qs9k/TlvzkAWQX2I/AAAAAAAABQ8/M817A2KkJk0/s400/Malerisk.jpg" /></a></div> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-8535312218123572626?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-4613875684624804152011-08-24T08:06:00.003+02:002011-08-24T08:06:00.078+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ieLdA4sNmlY/TlP5ehS5g5I/AAAAAAAABQ0/9ydqY0UIGjU/s1600/Raingear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="192" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ieLdA4sNmlY/TlP5ehS5g5I/AAAAAAAABQ0/9ydqY0UIGjU/s400/Raingear.jpg" /></a></div> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-461387568462480415?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-61538630015692206002011-08-17T17:48:00.001+02:002011-08-17T17:49:50.681+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c5UUcnmjWdY/TkviqZlTEMI/AAAAAAAABQs/hHRzQliNCwY/s1600/Haakonshallen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c5UUcnmjWdY/TkviqZlTEMI/AAAAAAAABQs/hHRzQliNCwY/s400/Haakonshallen.jpg" /></a></div> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a><br/><br/> <a href="http://bymuseet.no/?vis=78&spr=en">Håkonshallen</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-6153863001569220600?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-77277959738035708112011-08-10T08:15:00.001+02:002011-08-10T08:15:04.497+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q8wGNpkhyLs/TkFdgezrzbI/AAAAAAAABQk/fP1cW6IDLmw/s1600/GreenPants.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q8wGNpkhyLs/TkFdgezrzbI/AAAAAAAABQk/fP1cW6IDLmw/s400/GreenPants.jpg" /></a></div> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-7727795973803570811?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-16000378374539063202011-08-09T18:15:00.000+02:002011-08-09T18:15:03.696+02:00<p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hjCXpKbBusw/TkFcIb7oBaI/AAAAAAAABQc/kv-A1ewI5lI/s1600/Chest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hjCXpKbBusw/TkFcIb7oBaI/AAAAAAAABQc/kv-A1ewI5lI/s320/Chest.jpg" /></a>Yes, this post will be about boobies. Also known as tits. Mugs. Jugs. Bazongas. Melons. Breasts. Breasts and the big squeeze. Also known as getting a mammogram.</p> <p>In Norway, all woman are automatically offered bi-annual mammography examinations between the ages 50 and 69. Just before Easter this year, I got the letter informing me of my first appointment, accompanied by a questionnaire and a brochure, all delicately done in pleasant shades of pale green (now long recycled).</p> <p>Every time I see the picture of a well-endowed woman (they always seem to have pendulous, D-cup boobies), topless, standing next to a large piece of machinery, with one breast flattened between two plates of glass, I cringe. I cringe mightily.</p> <p>Breasts are sensitive and don’t like rough handling, and it hurts like hell to get them squeezed. So I’ve read about breast cancer and mammography and I’ve also read about alternative technologies of spotting growths in mammaries, like shining a light through like when you hold a flashlight up to your fingers, and I tell myself that I can wait until technology improves to the point that I can get <a href="http://boingboing.net/2009/06/09/diy-breast-lump-exam.html">screened for tumors with a flashlight</a> rather than the big squeeze. Because the squeeze ranges from very uncomfortable to tear-producing painful and I don’t know which will be my experience.</p> <p>So after reading the whole brochure, and googling risk factors for breast cancer (I have a few as do we all) and thinking about what would be the prudent move for my overall long-term health, I cancelled my mammography appointment using the e-mail address provided for that use. They accepted my cancellation without question. I figure they can always ask me back again in two years. I’m more concerned about cardiovascular disease, anyway, since that’s what kills most women.</p> <p>The thing is, nobody knows for sure what causes breast cancer. Many risk factors given are actually based on good guesses, some of which come from experience with other types of cancer. The only sure-fired correlation is that as westerners have gotten fatter and more prone to diabetes, the rate of breast cancer has gone up. And that may not be just a correlation (see below).</p> <p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-z5jvgHdkpvk/TkFbCnbsoBI/AAAAAAAABQU/rAFXvHSnpG4/s1600/200px-Pink_ribbon.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="81" width="50" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-z5jvgHdkpvk/TkFbCnbsoBI/AAAAAAAABQU/rAFXvHSnpG4/s400/200px-Pink_ribbon.png" /></a>What prompted me to write about this now is <a href="http://www.bmj.com/content/343/bmj.d4411">a report</a> that came out recently, showing that screening does not reduce mortality from breast cancer. <a href="http://www.forskning.no/artikler/2011/august/294401">This page</a> (in Norwegian) has a graph comparing Norway to Sweden. By comparing two similar countries that started screening a decade apart, it is easier to see if screening has any influence on breast cancer mortality. It doesn’t. The slightly lowered rates seen in the graph are due to improved treatment.</p> <p>Norwegian researchers are now going to reevaluate the mammography program. The belief was, when it was started, that screening would reduce breast cancer mortality by 30%; the result so far is only 10%. There are those who say mammograms are still helpful, but others point out that if the number of false positives are added to the figures, that 10% improvement may be even lower.</p> <p>One thing to keep in mind is that self-examination is still the best way to detect changes in the breasts between screenings, and many women discover tumors on their own, not in a radiologist’s office.</p> <p>Another thing to keep in mind is that new discoveries are constantly being made&mdash;and in some cases, old discoveries are brought to light again. I just read an article that said sugar causes cancer. It’s not sugar itself, actually; it’s insulin. Insulin is a type of growth hormone and that can promote cancer cell growth. (See <a href="http://www.caring4cancer.com/go/cancer/nutrition/questions/sugar-and-cancer-is-there-a-connection.htm">"Sugar and Cancer: Is There a Connection?"</a>) Which is why the correlation may actually be causation.</p> <p>So I choose to wait. I wait for the research. I wait for the technology. I wait for something better than two glass plates for my two tits.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-1600037837453906320?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-37259898000667562992011-08-06T10:03:00.003+02:002011-08-06T10:05:16.683+02:00<p>A commenter to this movie on YouTube wished hawks were like dogs so you could pet them when they do stuff like this. That's what I was thinking! Birds of prey are both so beautiful and so graceful. Just how graceful is shown in this BBC video. I'm also fascinated by how feathers move in slow-motion.</p> <p><iframe width="640" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/2CFckjfP-1E" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-3725989800066756299?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-69374973415509824932011-08-03T08:12:00.002+02:002011-08-03T08:12:01.018+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ML8iV0f6bss/Tjg-ORmD6-I/AAAAAAAABQM/J_M4YaNSlKY/s1600/WetWaiting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ML8iV0f6bss/Tjg-ORmD6-I/AAAAAAAABQM/J_M4YaNSlKY/s400/WetWaiting.jpg" /></a></div> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-6937497341550982493?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-86824119987054810262011-07-30T18:39:00.003+02:002011-07-30T21:43:55.258+02:00<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tiKb8B-pkyY/TjQzOMUA0cI/AAAAAAAABQE/ATj8liJW7pQ/s1600/Half-mast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tiKb8B-pkyY/TjQzOMUA0cI/AAAAAAAABQE/ATj8liJW7pQ/s320/Half-mast.jpg" /></a></div>Yesterday all flags were flown at half-mast in Norway, in honor of all those who lost their lives <a href="http://kafox.blogspot.com/2011/07/10-years-ago-and-now.html">Friday July 22 2011</a>. I offer my own condolences to all those who have lost loved ones, and to Norway itself.</p> <p>It's been an intense week. I have learned that those of us who actually turned off the TV and distracted ourselves with something totally different did the right thing. </p> <p>It has been non-stop in the media and now I find myself praying that my daily newspaper will have a normal cover tomorrow. For the seventh day running I have been treated to a single photograph with one large title covering the whole front below the masthead, all related to the horrible, unbelievable events of July 22. I’m looking forward to some photo and blurb above the fold, the usual sidebar and something below the fold including the ads, which I never read.</p> <p>Norway's holding up pretty good. People are always better than their reputation: Humanity tends toward good, not bad, though it sometimes takes a crisis to bring out the best in us. Norway rose to the occasion, in unison, focused on joining hands and hearts. I am proud of this nation for doing that.</p> <p>It still hurts. Thinking back while I write this still produces tears.</p> <p>I’ve read that it's OK for those of us who have no personal stake in the terror event to take it personally because it is a national event that effects everyone. It is a nationwide shock and we all have our individual response to it and our way of handling our reaction.</p> <p>For myself, alone at home in the midst of vacation time, Facebook with my friends and groups there to share, comfort and inspire, has been a good place to go in lieu of getting a real hug. There have also been memorial services, memorial marches, and thousands and thousands of flowers and candles left all over Norway. I am looking forward to going back to work on Monday, not to commiserate&mdash;there will be that&mdash;but for the distraction work gives.</p> <p>Some people have gotten furious. Some have felt despair. Some, especially teens, are afraid it will happen again. My own reaction is sadness&mdash;and then I try to remember that the only way forward is through forgiveness.</p> <p>I was listening to Sting's "Fragile" on the radio Thursday. For the first time in my 50 years, I have finally understand exactly what he means when he sings about how fragile we are. (It’s become the anthem for Norway’s day of terror.)</p> <p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Sxjrakxz3z8/TjQygmrx0JI/AAAAAAAABP8/q1nrdcNzrzs/s1600/Minneplass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Sxjrakxz3z8/TjQygmrx0JI/AAAAAAAABP8/q1nrdcNzrzs/s320/Minneplass.jpg" /></a></div>We <i>are</i> fragile. The human body is so vulnerable to violence. Death comes so easily. The human mind that conceived of killing innocent youths is also fragile. And for weeks and months and even years to come, our own hearts will be fragile, every time we think of the loved ones that are gone forever, every time we think of the Friday in July when our entire nation lost its innocence, every time we think of the murderer and are reminded that there are no monsters; there is just people.</p> <p>We have no way to stop this. We have no guarantees that tomorrow will be just as harmless as today. But we have hope and courage, and I am so happy to hear that the Labor Party Youth organization will continue, that its remaining members are inspired to preserve democracy, and are not disheartened.</p> <p>As for what will happen next in Norway, some citizens are already demanding that the police be given the right to detain anyone who may be seen as a threat. I pray that we don't go down that road. It hasn't served the US post 9/11. Norway is so proud that it has an open, democratic society and I think we should keep it that way. The killer was paranoid; we shouldn’t be.</p> <p>I mentioned forgiveness above. Lately I've been reading a lot about forgiveness. Forgiveness is not about absolution. It is not even about closure. Forgiveness is about starting the process that will eventually heal all of our minds so that thoughts of hatred, fear, rage, or bitterness no longer cloud our thinking or color our attitudes. Forgiveness helps us put the past in the past, and not let it keep hurting us in the present.</p> <p>Most importantly&mdash;and uncomfortably&mdash;forgiveness is about seeing how the other person's wrong could have been your wrong. We all carry seeds of hatred, of anger, of resentment. Claiming <i>we</i> would never kill someone, anyway, ignores the fact that we nevertheless allow ourselves to have such feelings. We like to find fault with others&mdash;whether it is a family member, a co-worker or a politician. We like to bad-mouth them and we are pleased when they fail or make a mistake, because it "verifies" our own "good judgment".</p> <p>Forgiveness is a way of not letting negative feelings fester. It is also not about forgetting. I said it starts the process of healing. Forgiveness does so by allowing yourself to consider the innocence of the other person, by remembering the other is as human as you, and by exploring what good can exist in the situation. Most importantly, forgiveness is to keep yourself from letting the bad take root in your own heart. You may have to forgive over and over and over, but that's OK. That's normal and that’s why it’s a process, not an end-point.</p> <p>Many years ago I read the following targeted at bosses: Try to catch your employees in the act of doing something right.</p> <p>I suggest that we do that outside the workplace: Catch our fellow humans doing something right. Focus on finding the good in people. This past week in Norway has proven that it is very easy to do.</p> <p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/EmDQFWNjHpA" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div></p> <p>Footnote: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oslo_bombings">Wikipedia's entry</a> on our worst day since WWII</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-8682411998705481026?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-12242026684125285242011-07-27T11:39:00.000+02:002011-07-27T11:39:06.147+02:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i2UW99ZOJJw/Ti_cbJzANSI/AAAAAAAABNg/FMvBOeA5Qt4/s1600/Poseidon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="359" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i2UW99ZOJJw/Ti_cbJzANSI/AAAAAAAABNg/FMvBOeA5Qt4/s400/Poseidon.jpg" /></a></div> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-1224202668412528524?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-45219625089734728362011-07-22T18:28:00.006+02:002011-07-30T21:44:23.068+02:00<p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tV2sy48lZT0/TimmyR5qXDI/AAAAAAAABNY/uT1GZzcEHUE/s1600/Keeras_Manhatten_Skyline_2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 195px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tV2sy48lZT0/TimmyR5qXDI/AAAAAAAABNY/uT1GZzcEHUE/s400/Keeras_Manhatten_Skyline_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632216191732440114" /></a>Ten years ago I got to see the Manhattan skyline for myself. This photo was taken with not so good camera 10 years ago this month. Two months later, the two characteristic towers of the World Trade Center were gone.</p> <p>I bring this up now because, right now, as I type, rescue workers are still searching through the office buildings belonging to the Norwegian parliament, looking for more explosives, as well as injured or killed. The main theory is that a car bomb went off around 3:30 pm today in downtown Oslo and blasted out windows in a 1 kilometer radius. The pictures of twisted metal window frames many floors up on a run-of-the-mill office building coupled with the knowledge that this is taking place in quiet, out-of-the-way Oslo is both unbelievable and upsetting.</p> <p>I hate that this is happening here. I hate that this is happening again.</p> <p>Bizarrely, someone dressed as police are shooting at a summer camp for Labor party youth while the bomb search goes on. A talking head on the news has just informed me that this is typical of Al- oh, fuck them. They don't get their name mentioned.</p> <p>The truth is, we don't yet know yet who will claim responsibility for this, or why. A common denominator is the Labor Party, and although I don't much care for our prime minister, who is Labor, I do not envy him this nightmare one bit. It may not even be directly political; another theory harkens back to the debacle around Danish and Norwegian papers publishing cartoons bashing Moha--, naw, won't mention him, either. Let the search engines find somebody else's site.</p> <p>The only bright spot in this is that it is vacation time in Norway, and most offices were empty.</p> <p>My heart isn't pounding as hard now, as I get ready to publish. I know that the most important thing to do is to not hate, not feed into whatever in our minds and societies has let something like this happen in the first place.</p> <p>My sympathies to everyone in Oslo.</p> <p>Footnote: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oslo_bombings">Wikipedia's entry</a> on our worst day since WWII</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-4521962508973472836?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-20559513110978116922011-07-20T07:55:00.000+02:002011-07-20T07:55:00.717+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NN9Xa-uh_G0/TiXhs_jMBYI/AAAAAAAABNQ/WOhuPIse53k/s1600/Puddefjorden.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NN9Xa-uh_G0/TiXhs_jMBYI/AAAAAAAABNQ/WOhuPIse53k/s400/Puddefjorden.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631155072186189186" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-2055951311097811692?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-27960833959246576152011-07-13T20:12:00.002+02:002011-07-13T20:13:30.317+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mrb4t_-zrcI/Th3gIzRR_RI/AAAAAAAABNI/Ysc7BuTiWz0/s1600/LoungeLandscape.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 260px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mrb4t_-zrcI/Th3gIzRR_RI/AAAAAAAABNI/Ysc7BuTiWz0/s400/LoungeLandscape.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628901551089253650" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-2796083395924657615?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-61134713903733272342011-07-06T18:33:00.002+02:002011-07-06T18:34:27.322+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HV-KEuOgnq8/ThSOfdzKs1I/AAAAAAAABNA/5ZuGc-xK2r8/s1600/Variety.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HV-KEuOgnq8/ThSOfdzKs1I/AAAAAAAABNA/5ZuGc-xK2r8/s400/Variety.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626278505718920018" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-6113471390373327234?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-72830788239259113882011-07-01T18:35:00.007+02:002011-07-01T19:15:22.656+02:00<p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xY9k16nHDiw/Tg39QX8nCmI/AAAAAAAABMw/do9-3OfJNJw/s1600/KindleWelcome.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xY9k16nHDiw/Tg39QX8nCmI/AAAAAAAABMw/do9-3OfJNJw/s320/KindleWelcome.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624429967403584098" /></a>I have a bookmark that reads, "You are never lonely with a book." Books have been my allies for as long as I can remember. Getting immersed in a story that takes double-digit chapters to resolve or following someone's theory or life over hundreds of pages adds a break from life like nothing else. And unlike other pauses in life, what you read in a book can stay with you for years, and maybe even change your life.</p> <p><a href="http://www.thorg.com/2011/06/do-we-need-dead-trees.html">Alice has written about the paper-based book</a> and has linked to an article whose author feels that a Kindle would be as distracting as his computer apparently is.</p> <p>First of all, anybody who wants to have a good read will shut their computer off. You are not a Real Reader if you can’t figure out how to hide away (i.e. have an arsenal of sneaky tricks and good excuses) from things and tasks and people and clocks so you can Read!</p> <p>Secondly, when I’m reading something that really interests me, I lose all sense of time and place, anyway. (Which is absolutely wonderful!)</p> <p>So, what about printed versus digital? Paper versus pixel?</p> <p>Both, I say. It depends on the technology and your own preferences.</p> <p>I was off on a quest a couple of months ago and didn’t want to wait for shipping for a relevant book, so I downloaded the Kindle software from Amazon (it’s free) and bought the Kindle version of my desired book and have read a couple of books now on my iPod Touch. Not a bad experience. I liked the software but eventually missed having a bigger screen, something more page-sized, something that was closer to how the author/publisher wanted the book presented.</p> <p>I have just held my new <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B002Y27P3M/ref=kindlesu-1">Kindle</a> in my hands. It is just as advertised: Thin, light, gray, and very, very easy to read. In fact, it reminds me of the monochrome LED screens of the handheld devices of the 90’s. It’s plain, the display has no color or shades of gray, and the interface is so old-school that menu items are highlighted with underscores. I have fiddled a bit with it, read the getting-started articles, and was basically done with the “novelty” after 10 minutes. As others have noted, there is no sense of reading from a screen; it really does feel like reading from paper.</p> <p>Surprisingly, the Kindle is not giving me a sense of moving forward, of entering a more advanced or complicated technological era. Rather, it is giving me a sense of simplicity and nostalgia. It’s taking me back to when most things were printed, photocopies were only in black and white, computer screens were monochrome, and computers themselves were limited in what they could do because they ran only one program.</p> <p>The Kindle focuses on letting the reader read. The wireless connection is for synchronizing between devices and buying more books. Other than that, you can turn off the wi-fi and just do what you usually do: Page back and forth, bookmark a page, highlight a passage, jot down a note in the margin, look up a word you don’t know (without having to keep a separate dictionary with you).</p> <p>My new toy is charging (update: It charged in 90 minutes, not the 3 hours suggested) and will be used tonight for reading in bed. I’ll find out if the hype about the electronic ink is really All That.</p> <p>I agree that technology shouldn't intrude on reading, but technology per se is not a deterrent to reading. People have different needs and technology has made it possible to meet more needs. Some folks don't read; they listen to audiobooks. Some need large-print books. I have had my reading enjoyment spoiled by lousy typography in a printed book. A digital reader can let me adjust type-size, and it can read out loud to me. It saves space in my shelves so I can actually own more books. I'd say there's room for both paper and digital; the most important thing is to Read.</p> <p>PS: Something else has just happily occurred to me: I have a friend overseas who also has a Kindle. We can actually borrow books from each other! Wirelessly! How cool is that?</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-7283078823925911388?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-64568443834408029572011-06-29T07:50:00.004+02:002011-07-03T20:35:14.142+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I0jMZMg3E1A/TgoVW_wbx1I/AAAAAAAABMg/f2Qk-T3Pe3g/s1600/BobDylanTicket.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I0jMZMg3E1A/TgoVW_wbx1I/AAAAAAAABMg/f2Qk-T3Pe3g/s400/BobDylanTicket.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623330569541371730" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p> <p>Later, that same night:</p> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--ofUwwuRUeY/ThC2LWmOjYI/AAAAAAAABM4/irdd1HmtmYw/s1600/BobDylan.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--ofUwwuRUeY/ThC2LWmOjYI/AAAAAAAABM4/irdd1HmtmYw/s400/BobDylan.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625196240746483074" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-6456844383440802957?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-76017039551545740982011-06-23T20:40:00.002+02:002011-06-23T20:48:18.236+02:00<p>So over at Chez Alice's, Alice herself <a href="http://www.thorg.com/2011/06/social-media.html">posted</a> about the dearth of postings on her blog. Specifically, postings that feature writing, rather than photography. I recognize and sympathize with Alice's sense of lack since my own blog has the same dearth.</p> <p>The amount of time has not changed. The interest in the world around me has not tapered off. Yet all my time at the computer no longer produces creative output. Repeatedly, my creativity is spent on a comment or three on someone's Facebook status or on someone's blog. Short bursts of opinion weigh in after writing, editing, and more editing - at someone else's place.</p> <p>And it baffles me.</p> <p>Where is my initiative to polish and publish something on my own dear blog (which has been with me for 8 years and 11 months today)? Why does my creativity remind me more of junk food grabbed on the run than a proper home-cooked meal eaten where it was made? And how do I reverse this?</p> <p><a href="http://www.thorg.com/">Alice</a> and I have challenged each other to a game of tag. When one posts a written post, then the other must get off her butt, sit down, and update her blog with writing, too. There is no time limit except that we expect to update each blog weekly.</p> <p>So that has inspired this.</p> <p>Yet, my question of where genuine inspiration and motivation and enthusiasm for treating my readers (and myself) to a thought, an experience, an adventure using a series of paragraphs is still unanswered.</p> <p>Do Facebook status updates stifle creativity? Does the convenience of shooting off a sentence on Twitter hinder further thought?</p> <p>I don't want what I tell you to be I'm going off to bed or that I've just made dinner or that I heard a good song and you can buy it too via iTunes. Like a piece of candy, that sort of thing seems perfect at the moment - for a moment. It's impulse and impulsive.</p> <p>I think all social media have their place, and should complement each other rather than crowd each other out. That is a matter of priority, however, not type of media. Blogs aren't dead yet, and neither is the joy of writing. But blogs take more time, if they are to be done right. And time tends to get sacrificed when distracted by updates and tweets and anything else going on.</p> <p>I think my brain (and perhaps yours) needs something far more nutritious than an update. Something that makes more than a couple of neurons fire. Something that forces me to think, edit, and think again. Something less impulsive and more compulsive.</p> <p>It'll come to me.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-7601703955154574098?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-32926953738726649202011-06-22T18:17:00.002+02:002011-06-22T18:18:58.663+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qJUmBiyZLFE/TgIV2AxcMuI/AAAAAAAABMQ/KNLQSGsdyvk/s1600/MossyStoneWall.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qJUmBiyZLFE/TgIV2AxcMuI/AAAAAAAABMQ/KNLQSGsdyvk/s400/MossyStoneWall.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621079302576288482" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-3292695373872664920?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-88702994457955448642011-06-15T17:44:00.002+02:002011-06-15T17:44:47.166+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cEcVrG8h5Zc/TfjTWQtldTI/AAAAAAAABMI/lXS3_vR28ak/s1600/MossyJuniper.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cEcVrG8h5Zc/TfjTWQtldTI/AAAAAAAABMI/lXS3_vR28ak/s400/MossyJuniper.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618472914541442354" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-8870299445795544864?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-21040207978039367052011-06-08T06:46:00.000+02:002011-06-08T06:46:00.604+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5t8bUrFtxGQ/Te5WN4Qj5JI/AAAAAAAABMA/dhFGdqVi9Zs/s1600/MagnoliaBuds.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5t8bUrFtxGQ/Te5WN4Qj5JI/AAAAAAAABMA/dhFGdqVi9Zs/s400/MagnoliaBuds.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615520581817722002" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-2104020797803936705?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-64519818150099953602011-06-01T13:06:00.000+02:002011-06-02T13:31:09.028+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LMt2-SVPEFU/TeduyEwFunI/AAAAAAAABL0/5b-twCJ7wa8/s1600/WhileWaiting.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LMt2-SVPEFU/TeduyEwFunI/AAAAAAAABL0/5b-twCJ7wa8/s400/WhileWaiting.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613577267088570994" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-6451981815009995360?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-77197655978133452752011-05-25T07:26:00.001+02:002011-05-25T07:27:37.013+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UwEl9YMu0A0/TdyTLkeaRgI/AAAAAAAABLU/XNqceEILvXw/s1600/StormyMay.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UwEl9YMu0A0/TdyTLkeaRgI/AAAAAAAABLU/XNqceEILvXw/s400/StormyMay.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610521062775866882" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-7719765597813345275?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-64171063025587104222011-05-18T07:50:00.000+02:002011-05-18T07:50:00.402+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B_P8Xth2B88/TdLD6A8lvvI/AAAAAAAABLM/V0ZmXjevO3U/s1600/17mai2011.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B_P8Xth2B88/TdLD6A8lvvI/AAAAAAAABLM/V0ZmXjevO3U/s400/17mai2011.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607759887483649778" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a><br/> <br/><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Norwegian_Constitution_Day">Constitution Day</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-6417106302558710422?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-86101042029971261162011-05-11T19:56:00.000+02:002011-05-13T22:41:47.620+02:00<p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"href="http://www.imdb.com/media/rm1044415488/tt0075148"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tB32ULs0b54/TcrRKAGcyAI/AAAAAAAABLE/Yk8d5y6FSzo/s320/RockyAndPaulie.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605522655971952642" /></a>35 years ago I saw <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0075148/">"Rocky"</a> for the second and last time&mdash;until now. I am surprised at how much I've forgotten about the movie, and what I did remember no longer matters.</p> <p>So many icons came out of this movie: The trumpet fanfare of the theme song, the personal triumph run up the front steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, Rocky's "Yo, Adrian!", manual meat-tenderizing. My 15-year-old self thought Carl Weathers was gorgeous and his character Apollo Creed fantastic. She liked Rocky himself, and his turtles, but didn't much care for any of the other characters, except for Adrian. The scene where Rocky drinks five raw eggs got loud "eww"s in the movie theater. The girl herself only freaked when watching Rocky for the second time, from the front row because the scene where they cut Rocky's eye lid to ease the swelling and the blood squirts out got a little too bloody when seen 10 feet away from a big screen.</p> <p>35 years later, the movie is at once very familiar and yet completely unrecognizable. The cinematography fascinates me, the way the camera stays back and still, using a wide angle shot and making the actor move the distance. I love the texture this photography creates. I also finally get all the comments about Rocky's unbroken nose. But what I didn't remember and which surprised me, is that so many of the iconic moments are so late in the movie. The powerful "Gonna Fly Now" anthem and the run up the steps happens three quarters of the way into the movie. The fight with Apollo Creed (whose arrogance and self-entitlement is clearer to me now) takes only minutes at the very end. And to me now, that all-important fight is so unimportant. What has held my attention and delighted me this time are the other people, the life in working class Philadelphia, the gradually evolving love story, the gradual unveiling of who Rocky is. I find myself charmed by Paulie and awed by the actor who played him. I am pleased to learn that Burt Young was indeed nominated for an Oscar for his performance.</p> <p>One thing hasn't changed: Both then and now, I love the ending: Adrian's hesitation about leaving the locker room and joining the crowd&mdash;but who breaks through both her shyness and the crowds when Rocky calls for her.</p> <p>35 years later, I understand the appeal that "Rocky" had, how it ended up a five-movie franchise and made Sylvester Stallone a star. And 35 years later, Sly Stallone doing one-handed push-ups is still some of the best eye-candy ever.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-8610104202997126116?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-76815039808464279172011-05-11T08:12:00.000+02:002011-05-11T11:57:03.957+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AdUkk97Pgpc/TcmqV3apmjI/AAAAAAAABK8/j2gvfx6vtE0/s1600/FromGrieghallen.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AdUkk97Pgpc/TcmqV3apmjI/AAAAAAAABK8/j2gvfx6vtE0/s400/FromGrieghallen.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605198503868996146" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-7681503980846427917?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-63732276042572966232011-05-04T17:30:00.001+02:002011-05-04T17:32:13.726+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--KYY_aF1nwQ/TcFxUX8VqNI/AAAAAAAABK0/Phh1GWXsdXM/s1600/CherryBlossoms2011.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--KYY_aF1nwQ/TcFxUX8VqNI/AAAAAAAABK0/Phh1GWXsdXM/s400/CherryBlossoms2011.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602884006264023250" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-6373227604257296623?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-28148078002290517502011-04-30T08:27:00.008+02:002011-04-30T19:11:15.556+02:00<p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Qb0sOoW83KI/TbxCK-AEiAI/AAAAAAAABKs/WjgIYS5cIv4/s1600/NorwVowels.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Qb0sOoW83KI/TbxCK-AEiAI/AAAAAAAABKs/WjgIYS5cIv4/s320/NorwVowels.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601424792751474690" /></a> A scene from work: My boss comes over to talk to me, and I am typing something, and continue to do so as I look up at him to answer him. He stares in horrified fascination at my fingers accurately producing words on the screen without me looking, and finally can't stand it any more and orders, "Look down! Look down!"</p> <p>It became a running gag between us.</p> <p>Me, I can't remember when last I saw another person typing with all ten fingers. Touch typing.</p> <p>I see a lot of typing, but it's all done with two or four fingers, evenly distributed between two hands.</p> <p>I did have another boss who typed with four fingers and he was as fast as me with my ten (nine, actually. I don't use my left thumb.).</p> <p>I know how to touch type because my family advised me to take typing classes in school. I discovered I sucked at typing itself&mdash;never getting beyond 30 words per minute if I wanted to avoid mistakes&mdash;but I was very good at the non-typing stuff: Adjusting margins, changing ribbons, setting tabulator stops. No hitting space umpteen times to indent text for me!</p> <p>One reason for not being a good typist is that I have a weak left pinky, the very finger used for all those A's. (And shift and '.) Manual typewriters required a lot of finger strength, and my left pinky didn't have enough. What a godsend electric typewriters were! You'd hardly touch the keys, and they'd type! Oh, my, all the extra, unwanted letters! What a godsend correction tape was! (And I got to be very good with that, too, but that didn't increase my typing speed.)</p> <p>At some point, I had enough time on my hands to practice and managed to get up to a good 70-80 wpm of error-free typing on an electric typewriter&mdash;the speed of a professional typist. And then came computers and I learned to punch numbers on the numeric keypad without looking. (Another boss I had used to watch me tally up dozens of numbers on a large calculator just to see my right hand working so independently of the rest of me.) </p> <p>And then came Norway. Where I applied for a job and had to take a typing test, and watched the face of my interviewer&mdash;as she scanned my test&mdash;change from professionally interested to absolutely baffled. Before keyboard standardization, the extra Norwegian vowels æ, ø and å occupied the keys that now have comma, period and dash. So all my periods were æ's. (Those letters are now clustered around L and P on Scandinavian keyboards.)</p> <p>I got the job. "I was listening, so I know you know how to type," my interviewer, now new supervisor, said. I figure my speed was about 75 wpm.</p> <p>So what has me typing this blogpost? 35 years of left-pinky-on-a, right-thumb-on-space and a whole lot of other automatic habits&mdash;the physical memories in my fingers&mdash;means that I also hit Enter or Carriage Return (CR) automatically, too, when I want a new paragraph. (On a manual typewriter, you'd have to return the carriage yourself; "Enter" only moved the paper down a line.)</p> <iframe width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/mFCCFS_lhA8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe> <p>Which comment fields and blog windows and word processors and e-mail and Google Groups* all acknowledge and use. Tap Enter/paragraph key and get a new line with your cursor at the left of the page.</p> <p>But not Facebook. They changed their interface about a month ago and made it so that tapping Enter meant posting your comment. A lot of chopped up comments showed up and are still showing up because of this. If you want a new line or a paragraph, you have to use shift-Enter or something.</p> <p>Which breaks my stride as a touch typist.</p> <p>And that breaks my concentration. </p> <p>Not only that, it made me hesitate when wanting to make a new paragraph in blog comments and such, and that's when I got very annoyed with Facebook. I have chosen to no longer participate actively there because I want to keep a 35-year-old habit that works very well everywhere except on Facebook as of April 2011.</p> <p>Obviously, there are no touch typists working for Facebook.</p> <hr> <p>*) The reason for needing paragraphs was a Facebook discussion group that of course led to long answers rather than short comments. Too bad hardly anyone uses Google Groups or Usenet for that sort of thing, which have the right interface for group discussions: Threaded messages show who replied to what, which also means that there's room for digressions (thread drift) that can be as valuable as the original topic.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-2814807800229051750?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-32628552654894030342011-04-27T07:56:00.000+02:002011-04-27T07:56:00.229+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-czr8mOp2qmE/TbcHjSLcL3I/AAAAAAAABKk/GKdFM5Y6Pis/s1600/Shoots.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-czr8mOp2qmE/TbcHjSLcL3I/AAAAAAAABKk/GKdFM5Y6Pis/s400/Shoots.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599952964415139698" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-3262855265489403034?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-49232947228207767292011-04-20T08:00:00.000+02:002011-04-20T08:00:03.355+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-debShXRxaKY/TaxbVvlSemI/AAAAAAAABKY/lmVkOoZNNaM/s1600/InStone.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-debShXRxaKY/TaxbVvlSemI/AAAAAAAABKY/lmVkOoZNNaM/s400/InStone.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596948866022931042" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-4923294722820776729?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-71539835299683609362011-04-18T13:33:00.007+02:002011-04-18T17:32:14.752+02:00<p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RLSSEYr8UpE/TaxZH0WjNeI/AAAAAAAABKI/4pRTgcTx4Z0/s1600/Pansies1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RLSSEYr8UpE/TaxZH0WjNeI/AAAAAAAABKI/4pRTgcTx4Z0/s320/Pansies1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596946427761866210" /></a>Some time last month, I was listening to a new spiritual podcast, and the speaker said that we can all heal ourselves and each other by stating, "I love you. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you." Apparently, this serious of four short statements healed all the patients of a psychiatric facility, simply by being uttered by a doctor while he was looking at the patient files. </p> <p>I was intrigued.</p> <p>So I googled the phrase and discovered it comes from a Hawaiian spiritual ritual called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoʻoponopono">ho'oponopono</a>.*</p> <p>I found a <a href="http://hooponoponoworks.blogspot.com/2008/01/hooponopono-cleaning-tools_05.html">blogpost</a> that described this "cleaning" process. I found an <a href="http://www.wanttoknow.info/070701imsorryiloveyoujoevitale">online article</a> claiming that you can heal the whole planet with ho'oponopono because everything that comes into your sphere of experience is your responsibility.** I searched Amazon for books describing ho'oponopono. I bought <a href="http://hooponoponoisbeyondthesecret.com/">Mable Katz</a>'s book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Easiest-Way-Problems-Happiness-Wealth/dp/0974882011/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1303122684&sr=1-1">"The Easiest Way"</a>.***</p> <p>And her title may not be an exaggeration.</p> <p>After reading her short book, I have replaced my usual rituals for starting my day with simply repeating over and over, whenever I manage to remember (i.e. brain not occupied with other thoughts) either "I love you" or "Thank you".</p> <p>The "Please forgive me" part is for addressing mistakes or bad behavior. Then you say to yourself, "Please forgive me for whatever made me do this." (You can be specific.) The nice thing is that you don't have to actually know what mechanisms triggered you into bad feelings or reactions.</p> <p>Here's the deal: Ho'oponopono is about erasing whatever junk is stuck in our subconscious. These subconscious memories get triggered and replayed over and over, and make us react inappropriately. You don't have to know what the memories actually are, however. The Universe knows. Your inner child knows. You just have to start the process of healing or cleaning by asking to be forgiven.</p> <p>I haven't done that consistently yet. I am still reading Katz' book, so this is all so fresh, it has to sit on the window sill and cool for a bit.</p> <p>But the experience so far is so fun and encouraging, I want to share it now, not later.</p> <p>My usual ritual for starting my day consists of some breathing exercises and lots of affirmations, usually said silently as I walk to work. These have become, I realize, virtual crutches, but my personality has a limp so the affirmations help. Repeating them until they "stick" (I agree with them) focuses my mind and my feelings and I can feel the difference.</p> <p>Anything repetitious will focus the mind. This is the function of a mantra. The mantra can have meaning or be a nonsense sound. But imagine walking around, repeating in your mind "I love you" or "Thank you" while looking at other people, at complete strangers.</p> <p>That reminded me of the <a href="http://kafox.blogspot.com/2009/04/finding-god-in-next-person-you-meet.html">experiment</a> I did once, asking God to teach me to find God in other people. Wandering through one's day, dwelling on "I love you" or "thank you" whenever the mind remembers has a similar effect: It makes me warmer, friendlier, more tolerant and compassionate, more joyful. The day becomes happy.</p> <p>I'm actually amazed at the profound effects of such a simple technique. I had a good test on Friday because I was attending a class with the same instructor for the third time. The last time I was there, I snapped at him (he kept calling me "missy", which was funny up to a point, at which I snapped). This time, my behavior was more focused and interested, and his was more respectful and also interested. A chance comment on my part had him and his co-worker enthusiastically finding books I could borrow so I can spend Easter learning Wordpress. (Thanks, guys! :-D)</p> <p>All I do is say "I love you. I love you. I love you." or "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." Should an annoyance or critical thought pop up in my mind, I say a series of I love you's. Back to peace.</p> <p>Katz says that since you can't listen to someone and be reciting "I love you" in your head at the same time, pay attention to the speaker, then say, "Thank you, I love you" (for example) before replying. Your reply will then be far more appropriate.</p> <p>There are pleasant side-effects to ho'oponopono. The usual ones: Clean yourself, find yourself. Find yourself, become happy. Become happy, become rich. Something like that (which some of the links above get into). Although Katz mentions this, the focus on her book isn't wealth and success; it is on healing or cleansing. Her point is that as long as you keep letting past pains call the shots, you can't be your best self.</p> <p>There is much more to ho'oponopono than what I've outlined here or than what Katz presents in her book, but that requires delving into the religious traditions of the Hawaiian Kahuna. Katz's version may not be traditional, but it does seem to work, and to work without harm.</p> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--EjcLMRfkUY/TaxZQsNivKI/AAAAAAAABKQ/VYHA2Dqlodk/s1600/Pansies2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--EjcLMRfkUY/TaxZQsNivKI/AAAAAAAABKQ/VYHA2Dqlodk/s400/Pansies2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596946580195425442" /></a> <p>Footnotes:</p> <p>*) The book I have read is based on the modern practice.</p> <p>**) A comment on Amazon left for Joe Vitale's book suggested <span style="font-weight:bold;">not</span> taking on someone else's problems because you may make bad karma for yourself.</p> <p>***) While reading the blogpost and an excerpt from Vitale's book, I kept struggling with the Hawaiian word. It wasn't until I was reading the excerpt from Mabel Katz's book that I realized how to pronounce ho'oponopono, so I took that as a sign and bought her book.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-7153983529968360936?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-57872157105696074272011-04-17T18:32:00.006+02:002011-04-18T17:05:09.831+02:00<p>Black and white and grainy video is very forgiving. Now I know how Rolf Harris did it, but as a child, I was completely baffled by how he got that third leg to act like, well, a third leg. In spite of knowing the secret now, I must say that this bit still makes me laugh. I can better appreciate both the funny lyrics and the visual gags.</p> <iframe title="YouTube video player" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/GS-itkO9ia8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-5787215710569607427?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-11222074089468782842011-04-13T08:26:00.001+02:002011-04-13T08:26:00.062+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3eTqLDAk9Tk/TaSZxNw3DcI/AAAAAAAABJw/5YAZAjqyCDI/s1600/Roof_1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3eTqLDAk9Tk/TaSZxNw3DcI/AAAAAAAABJw/5YAZAjqyCDI/s400/Roof_1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594765707888233922" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2icP83bpe4Y/TaSZxZ7Fh8I/AAAAAAAABJ4/hQFwbhogw_s/s1600/Roof_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2icP83bpe4Y/TaSZxZ7Fh8I/AAAAAAAABJ4/hQFwbhogw_s/s400/Roof_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594765711152351170" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YV2XIWaSkWE/TaSZxxPaNyI/AAAAAAAABKA/It3yTS0vDGM/s1600/Roof_3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YV2XIWaSkWE/TaSZxxPaNyI/AAAAAAAABKA/It3yTS0vDGM/s400/Roof_3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594765717411608354" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-1122207408946878284?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-44755411343390935362011-04-06T07:34:00.000+02:002011-04-06T07:34:00.872+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ReG3fN7gsiA/TZnzUhy71AI/AAAAAAAABJU/NmpBN-l81MQ/s1600/Waiting4Spring.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ReG3fN7gsiA/TZnzUhy71AI/AAAAAAAABJU/NmpBN-l81MQ/s400/Waiting4Spring.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591767946352120834" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-4475541134339093536?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-35773211554393994082011-03-30T07:47:00.000+02:002011-03-30T07:47:00.163+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a1pUWru7yto/TZH_Hcw3M_I/AAAAAAAABJM/bOEgsvPPkKc/s1600/Bannister.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a1pUWru7yto/TZH_Hcw3M_I/AAAAAAAABJM/bOEgsvPPkKc/s400/Bannister.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589529115988800498" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-3577321155439399408?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-86437992246498074582011-03-23T07:44:00.000+01:002011-03-23T07:44:00.497+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DtU5c5ljk84/TYjuPcb0-uI/AAAAAAAABJE/8Qekqw3w3bs/s1600/FancyFlan.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DtU5c5ljk84/TYjuPcb0-uI/AAAAAAAABJE/8Qekqw3w3bs/s400/FancyFlan.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586977286851459810" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-8643799224649807458?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-12636014029071388202011-03-16T20:08:00.000+01:002011-03-16T20:09:04.503+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OoNR-18OH3U/TYEKq4hZRLI/AAAAAAAABI8/Qw6t5f5W5-Y/s1600/Steampunk.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OoNR-18OH3U/TYEKq4hZRLI/AAAAAAAABI8/Qw6t5f5W5-Y/s400/Steampunk.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584756744759362738" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-1263601402907138820?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-67992637718618735392011-03-12T13:23:00.006+01:002011-03-12T13:33:50.291+01:00<p>Three mornings in a row I have waited for the bus, feet growing cold from standing on snowy ground. I was attending a course in Flash in town. My usual routine of walking to work was switched to making sure I made it to the bus stop in time for my morning commute.</p> <p>Each morning presented its own version of winter:</p> <p>Wednesday morning the snow piled down in large, sticky flakes which melted into wakes of slush on the sidewalks and roads, choking traffic. Behind me on the bus, some woman with a smoker’s deep voice yakked on her cell phone the entire half hour ride into the city center. She interrupted her conversation to comment, with swear words, on the two occasions when the bus tires spun in the slippery slush. I wished she’d shut up.</p> <p>I am usually patient on public transportation and was amused by the class of middle school kids that came aboard right after my stop, dishing out swear words of their own. (I realized with a bit of sadness that youthful shock and awe just doesn’t work when the parental generation talks the exact same way.) I wasn’t able to be patient with the cell phone addict behind me. Perhaps because I had a head cold and should have stayed home; perhaps because her conversation was the most boring stream of words I’ve ever been forced to eavesdrop on.</p> <p>And her complaint about the spinning tires, delivered as just another stream of words, interfered with my daydream of excitement. Rrrrrrr, growled the spinning tires. What if the bus doesn’t make it up the hill? Rrrrrrr. What will the bus and its full load of passengers (the school kids had to stand) do if we can’t move? Rrrrrrr. What will I do if I’m late for my class? I pulled out my own cell phone to text a message to that effect. Rrrrrrr. The tires spun the slush away and got traction on a bare bit of pavement.</p> <p>In town, I discovered that the beautiful stone pavement at the city light railway stop was slippery with snowy mush. A thought about city planners who seem to forget about local climate flashed in my mind, only to be drowned out by the necessary focus on where to put my feet.</p> <p>I crossed the main town square, wide, flat, white. Another expanse of stone pavement, another thought about city planners and climates.</p> <p>At any rate, I made it to class with time to spare, as another student was later than I was.</p> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iZV98RgyZaQ/TXtn7F3aQOI/AAAAAAAABI0/8_l_zSlfHDw/s1600/Torgalmenning_03-2011.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iZV98RgyZaQ/TXtn7F3aQOI/AAAAAAAABI0/8_l_zSlfHDw/s400/Torgalmenning_03-2011.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583170427940389090" /></a> <p>Thursday the snow came a bit earlier in the morning, so I figured the roads would be cleared by the time I left home, so I counted on taking the same bus as the day before.</p> <p>I arrived at the bus stop in time to see the pick-up truck with its plow share clearing off the last meters of sidewalk on our side.</p> <p>The bus arrived a bit earlier than the day before, and there were no school kids. But there was a woman behind me, talking on her cell phone. A younger, fairer voice than the day before, exchanging information about where to meet, and hanging up, which was more pleasant to my ears than a discussion about discounted dinettes.</p> <p>The tires had no problems with grip and I got off the bus in town after the schedule’s stated 20 minutes. I still had to watch my step on the stone pavements, but yesterday’s huge puddle from melting snow was no longer blocking the pedestrian crossing at the last intersection I had to cross.</p> <p>Friday morning offered up a snow blizzard in the morning. Tiny, pointy grains of snow were whipped in every direction. I swapped from the hooded raincoat and down-filled coat of my previous mornings to a wool coat and umbrella. Just when I thought I’d figured out which way to hold the umbrella, the wind shifted and pin-pricks of snow came at me from two new directions.</p> <p>The bus ride into town had a pleasant ambience, thanks to the conversation held between a couple of young women. It was like sitting in a café, and the sort of background noise I like. It’s how buses are usually supposed to sound, when not filled with commuter silence. One-sided cell phone chatter just doesn’t do it.</p> <p>The smooth ride into town meant I met a green light at my first intersection, found a dry spot past the light railway’s stone pavement, and headed for the town square for a third time. The day before, the city had started to plant daffodils in the huge planters on the square, and now the poor plants were getting covered in white. The square itself looked like someone had spilled powdered sugar on it. The wind was whipping snow into tiny drifts, creating circular bald spots in between.</p> <p>As I rounded my last corner before my last street to cross, one of the old regulars - I’ve always assumed he is an alcoholic - asked me for money. I had no small bills, so apologized. What I really wanted to do was lend him my umbrella. How could he stand in that blizzard, hatless, gloveless, scarfless? One of my classmates said the old geezer had an apartment. Her tone suggested that he was not to be pitied. My reaction, though, was relief: Nice to know that he does have a roof over his head. I mused to myself why he would panhandle on the street if he had a home, and concluded that he’d been doing that for as I long as I lived in Bergen, so it was his “job”.</p> <p>The weather was far more favorable on my way home. I passed more beggars on the street, but the best was the old man coming off the bus. I never saw someone so ragged and dirty: His clothes and his rucksack had holes, he used a piece of rope as a belt and his long, white hair was so matted it looked like dreadlocks. What a vision! I started to stare, then remembered my manners and tried to look away.</p> <p>He stopped in the doorway for a moment, blocking the passengers behind him from getting off, and of course, passengers from getting on. He paused there for so long that he ended up getting everyone’s attention, including mine. And when he did, he grinned widely at us, shaking his dreadlocks, pleased with his “performance”, and got off. I had to smile.</p> <p>I really enjoy taking public transportation.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-6799263771861873539?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-40311082345147508202011-03-09T07:52:00.000+01:002011-03-09T07:52:00.430+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AlDRKXA4pjM/TW6SJnbIJeI/AAAAAAAABIc/7bDVRXA9KQM/s1600/Trifecta.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AlDRKXA4pjM/TW6SJnbIJeI/AAAAAAAABIc/7bDVRXA9KQM/s400/Trifecta.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579557682257864162" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-4031108234514750820?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-88437805080868976992011-03-02T19:51:00.002+01:002011-03-02T19:52:37.251+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QVpioj-KFzM/TW6R36shSrI/AAAAAAAABIU/Mc3sR2LD5TE/s1600/Waiting4Spring.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QVpioj-KFzM/TW6R36shSrI/AAAAAAAABIU/Mc3sR2LD5TE/s400/Waiting4Spring.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579557378193443506" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-8843780508086897699?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-3880523606692507962011-02-23T08:13:00.000+01:002011-02-23T08:13:00.302+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HD7YivS_WEo/TWQnFbUMtSI/AAAAAAAABIM/nRVPdXFP_jo/s1600/Curling.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HD7YivS_WEo/TWQnFbUMtSI/AAAAAAAABIM/nRVPdXFP_jo/s400/Curling.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576625212776822050" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-388052360669250796?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-46598513495068478772011-02-16T11:28:00.001+01:002011-02-16T11:29:37.865+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QL9gZos7ieo/TVum_b1QSdI/AAAAAAAABIE/8CAlnY7uxuY/s1600/Tasteleif.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QL9gZos7ieo/TVum_b1QSdI/AAAAAAAABIE/8CAlnY7uxuY/s400/Tasteleif.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574232572534213074" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-4659851349506847877?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-11309642971108974202011-02-09T08:54:00.000+01:002011-02-09T08:54:00.172+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TVG7pnSUm3I/AAAAAAAABH8/dWK-SQGz75c/s1600/AMurder.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TVG7pnSUm3I/AAAAAAAABH8/dWK-SQGz75c/s400/AMurder.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571440537628875634" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-1130964297110897420?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-86832791772314046072011-02-02T06:32:00.000+01:002011-02-02T06:32:00.327+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TUhDv3xGxRI/AAAAAAAABHw/GLzVtgJQr64/s1600/Copycat.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TUhDv3xGxRI/AAAAAAAABHw/GLzVtgJQr64/s400/Copycat.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568775428946445586" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-8683279177231404607?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-22019090351997758332011-01-26T07:50:00.000+01:002011-01-26T07:50:00.081+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TT9T9ZmYLXI/AAAAAAAABHg/Ye-5qbqfpUQ/s1600/RoomUnlit.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TT9T9ZmYLXI/AAAAAAAABHg/Ye-5qbqfpUQ/s400/RoomUnlit.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566259978762202482" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TT9T9iJ-LPI/AAAAAAAABHo/k8p5T9JDz3c/s1600/RoomLit.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TT9T9iJ-LPI/AAAAAAAABHo/k8p5T9JDz3c/s400/RoomLit.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566259981058977010" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-2201909035199775833?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-27706768135689996372011-01-19T07:33:00.000+01:002011-01-19T07:33:00.445+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TTXdDh1OmxI/AAAAAAAABHY/21gGOxa43-M/s1600/Storage.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TTXdDh1OmxI/AAAAAAAABHY/21gGOxa43-M/s400/Storage.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563595967377087250" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-2770676813568999637?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-8786185039658833582011-01-15T19:19:00.007+01:002011-01-16T20:34:11.937+01:00<p>Bergen. Winter. Rain. Snow. Rain.</p> <p>The rain could not melt the packed snow away. It could only turn it into the slickest ice.</p> <p>I tried to balance in the wind, but the wind caught my coat and I felt myself being pushed along - no way to stop, nothing to hold on to.</p> <p>I need ice cleats, I thought, as I finally reached the safety of cleared pavement, and my brief moment of panic was over.</p> <p>I made it safely to the bus stop by our mall for my errand to the post office. I had just missed a bus, as luck would have it. As I waited for the next one, one senior citizen after another came to the stop, and soon they were discussing cleats. One was wearing <a href="http://www.yaktrax.co.uk/">the sports model</a>, one that lets you jog in ice and snow. I listened to their discussion, noticed the brand name, noted the comment about size necessary, and noted which store sold them. I got all the information I needed to get ice cleats.</p> <p>I kept company with one of the women since she too was going to the post office. We also waited for the return bus together, and a third woman joined us, telling us how she'd just slipped on the ice.</p> <p>Back at the mall, I went straight to the shop that sells the cleats. I have a common shoe size and not only the store, but the factory was sold out of that size, I was told. But one customer had a pair in my size on lay-away. The store clerk called that customer, who decided not to buy them. As luck would have it! I now own a pair of ice cleats.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-878618503965883358?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-43840366894197186092011-01-12T07:48:00.001+01:002011-01-12T07:48:00.289+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TSzCWk62xlI/AAAAAAAABHQ/odnM2m7Fffg/s1600/Samsung.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TSzCWk62xlI/AAAAAAAABHQ/odnM2m7Fffg/s400/Samsung.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561033333019166290" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TSzCWWUBcXI/AAAAAAAABHI/OkKaiE-zusY/s1600/HTCDesire.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TSzCWWUBcXI/AAAAAAAABHI/OkKaiE-zusY/s400/HTCDesire.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561033329098191218" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-4384036689419718609?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-51418413709129098062011-01-05T07:29:00.000+01:002011-01-05T07:29:00.099+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TSN10pQfnFI/AAAAAAAABHA/13ZjHZ_8vs4/s1600/SnowSnake.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TSN10pQfnFI/AAAAAAAABHA/13ZjHZ_8vs4/s400/SnowSnake.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558415912394005586" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-5141841370912909806?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-56954773610737473432010-12-31T09:30:00.016+01:002010-12-31T10:01:54.181+01:00<p>New Year's Eve.</p> <p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TR2ZUuF6HMI/AAAAAAAABGg/qxFR76D6EW8/s1600/FlowersWork50.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 120px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TR2ZUuF6HMI/AAAAAAAABGg/qxFR76D6EW8/s200/FlowersWork50.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556766096494304450" /></a>The day when people are either scrambling to get food and champagne for the evening's festivities or are contemplating what resolutions to make for the coming year - or both.</p> <p>For me, 2011 is the start of the next half century of my life. I was 50 in December. It was actually a wonderful way to end the year.</p> <p>2010 was turbulent at work and in my stomach. At work, the knowledge that our department and in-house printing was going to cease to exist by summer was something we all had in the back of our minds. We were, however, all so old (I was the youngest at 49) to get worked up about it. Instead, the strategy was to do our jobs and behave in such a way as to make management realize they had some great people working for them; we did not complain and we did not sic our union on anybody (though they were apprised of the situation). Our representative from HR was impressed by our good cheer. She said it motivated HR to do everything in their power to help us stay with the company.</p> <p>Our beloved boss retired by August. My co-graphics designer and I were transferred to another department. Our former printers had already been learning to man the photocopiers and combine work in our new printshop with other duties. We are all under new management, we all still stay in touch, and maintain the friendships we formed after so many years together. These people were also the "committee" that organized a wonderful birthday celebration for me.</p> <p>My IBS was worsening, to the point that I thought I'd finally have to be checked out in a hospital. One more search on Google was enlightening, however, and I cut out grains and my fiber supplement, and immediately got relief. I now know to avoid grains if I want to avoid a flare-up of IBS. My dawning metabolic syndrome was due to grains, not sugar. I got my body (and waistline) back this fall with that change of diet.</p> <p>New situations with new people require an open mind, positive attitude and patience. I used affirmations to get myself successfully settled into my new department. I see that 2011 will present challenges I haven't had to deal with before, since the structure, work and challenges of the division where I now work is so different from what I'm used to. I have come to realize that my last boss (and department) simply spoiled us co-workers.</p> <p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TR2ZzeQ1uDI/AAAAAAAABG4/UuBe_PSUqS0/s1600/Poster.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TR2ZzeQ1uDI/AAAAAAAABG4/UuBe_PSUqS0/s320/Poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556766624821131314" /></a>I had my 50th birthday waiting for me at the end of the year. I kept trying to figure out what to do with it. In Norway, they make a big deal about such anniversaries. Our newspapers carry lists of everyone who has a "round" birthday from 50 on up. So, my name got in the paper, too. The annual company Christmas ball was originally scheduled for December 10. The gang from work (old department) meets annually for Christmas dinner on the Thursday closest to the start of December; this year that was December 2. My plan was to just not go home early and hopefully have company at midnight to mark my birthday. Then the Christmas ball got moved to December 3. I realized that I could have one humdinger of a party on my birthday. :-) And that's when my co-workers got to work and organized special seating at the ball (not allowed, really) so our table was only us co-workers, they treated me to a room at the hotel holding the ball, and they hung up posters and balloons. And someone notified the toast master so almost 400 people sang the Norwegian birthday song to me.</p> <p>Wow! No, I mean, WOW!!!</p> <p>This morning I finished reading Joseph Murphy's "The Power of Your Subconscious Mind"*. His last chapter is on aging. He was basically saying that you only age if you buy into the idea that you must age.</p> <p>People have been asking me how I manage to look so young. Most don't believe I'm 50. Hardly any wrinkles, hair still its original dark brown, and even the middle-aged spread I've had in my 40's is gone. I notice the changes of age, of course; my face shows time has passed in its way. If I start to miss the firmer jawline of youth, I remind myself to enjoy every age, no matter what. And I usually do. I always have. I have never lied about my age, and I have never been upset at getting older. I have enjoyed all my birthdays. I have enjoyed being in my 20's, my 30's, my 40's. I wasn't the sort of kid who didn't want to grow up, nor did I want to be older than I was when I was a kid. I loved 8, I loved 10, I loved 12, I loved 18. 16 was boring, oddly enough, but turning 16 was memorable: My mother took me to a French restaurant, and I had escargot for the first time.</p> <p>I was raised by old folks - my grandparents. Old in age and looks, but not in mind. They delighted in taking new trips, reading new books, meeting new people. When they no longer had access to that, they got old. They passed 90 before it happened, though. I had a friend whose philosophy was to travel to faraway places while she was young, because she figured age would keep her from taking long trips. She figured right; as she got older, she traveled closer to home in an ever dwindling radius, until her only trips were the bus into town. Eventually, even those ended. Her dwindling radius of travel was due to her developing chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.</p> <p>I have always believed that her belief that old age would limit her played a part.</p> <p>I try not to have such beliefs. I don't even have the belief that I must go gray. Gray hairs have appeared on my head, but they are so few and so spread out that the rest of the brown pretty much hides them. (I do have friends who want to know if I <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dorian_Gray">have a portrait hidden</a> somewhere. ;-) )</p> <p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TR2ZU95n94I/AAAAAAAABGw/ChUQbDThW8Q/s1600/Me50.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 99px; height: 100px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TR2ZU95n94I/AAAAAAAABGw/ChUQbDThW8Q/s200/Me50.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556766100737750914" /></a>Aging is part genetic, part lifestyle (I don't smoke, for example), part cultural. The current debate in Europe (and in the US) is the need to raise the retirement age, after decades of lowering it. When I participate in the discussion, it is to say that the ideal shouldn't be to get off work early (as it were), but to so enjoy your work that you are happy to stay on the job until your late 60's or even 70. Humans thrive when they know they can contribute, when they have a reason for getting up in the morning. For some, work can be that blessing; others have hobbies they'd rather spend all day on. Not everyone is happy with their employment circumstances. Some people are physically worn out, while others just don't like the "slavery". I have no idea where I'm headed, employment-wise, so my affirmations for work are in part to make sure I don't end up feeling enslaved. A job is a blessing. A job with wonderful co-workers is a huge blessing. I have never appreciated them more than I do now (that is the best gift I got for my birthday).</p> <p>As I look back on 2010, I am a bit surprised at my calm in the face of the departmental upset, but I have seniority now, so I'm finally immune to the reorganizational madness that can strike any company. No matter what, they have to keep me. I am trying to figure out how to make myself more useful, just in case. It gives more options, at the next crossroad. What's more surprising, is my calm in the face of the future ahead. I think it's because I feel like options are opening up, rather than disappearing. Actually, I feel like I have the option to have options.</p> <p>As I look at 2011 - the start of the next half century of my life - I see that some of the things I want is to keep on building on the happiness I now feel - and the peace of mind. Some discoveries have been made that give me a concrete definition of what to work on in the year ahead: Forgiveness (finally letting go) and a likely case of ADHD; self-nurturing is the umbrella term. Making sure I live my life and organize my days and monitor my habitual thoughts so that I don't bug myself. One of my new habits in 2011 will be to always get washed and dressed, first thing in the morning. Lounging around in pajamas leaves me inflexible in responding to my own impulsiveness (ADHD means doing things when the feeling moves you). If I first have to stop to get myself ready, I'm already sabotaged. By the time I'm washed and dressed, I may have lost my inspiration.</p> <p>One of the reasons for just lounging in pajamas, is the computer addiction. There is a worn path from my bed to the computer desk. I may have to set a timer for myself in 2011, to get myself away from the drug known as the internet. Or rather: If I am at the computer, to be a more active participant. Rather than only reading, I want there to be more writing. That is a subtle change I've felt as I've turned 50: I am now entering the age where it is my turn to teach and to share. I am now the older person, I am the one with the experience. I am the one who can advise and guide and give back all that was given to me as I grew up. That too is a new habit I have to learn in the coming year.</p> <p>Thanks for being with me in 2010! I hope to see you in 2011.</p> <p>I wish you a joyful and peaceful new year.</p> <p></p> <p><span style="font-style:italic;">*) From which I got the Great Affirmation you can see in the sidebar.</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-5695477361073747343?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-37111279529571757822010-12-29T07:15:00.000+01:002010-12-29T07:15:00.502+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TRm49kb5dgI/AAAAAAAABGY/TB2T0_FD5cc/s1600/Juletulipan.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TRm49kb5dgI/AAAAAAAABGY/TB2T0_FD5cc/s400/Juletulipan.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555674983230436866" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-3711127952957175782?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-2542652905454183222010-12-22T08:34:00.001+01:002010-12-22T08:34:00.448+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TREBegFvVVI/AAAAAAAABGM/l2BCMG_SsN0/s1600/Xmas_decoration.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TREBegFvVVI/AAAAAAAABGM/l2BCMG_SsN0/s400/Xmas_decoration.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553221439046243666" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-254265290545418322?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-40898188889070332432010-12-15T07:46:00.000+01:002010-12-15T07:46:00.256+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TQe7qLiIPUI/AAAAAAAABGE/hC0sUp-PdfA/s1600/Ducks2010.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TQe7qLiIPUI/AAAAAAAABGE/hC0sUp-PdfA/s400/Ducks2010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550611399082261826" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-4089818888907033243?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-26389820940928069792010-12-08T18:17:00.001+01:002010-12-08T18:18:41.828+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TP-91f7W4qI/AAAAAAAABF8/oWzvwFUgKaE/s1600/WinterSunset.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TP-91f7W4qI/AAAAAAAABF8/oWzvwFUgKaE/s400/WinterSunset.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548361992744919714" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-2638982094092806979?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-40579036642862674462010-12-01T08:01:00.000+01:002010-12-01T08:01:01.519+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TPQGuZpO6AI/AAAAAAAABF0/hfghRUyQhLU/s1600/BronzeCandle.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TPQGuZpO6AI/AAAAAAAABF0/hfghRUyQhLU/s400/BronzeCandle.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545064435427502082" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-4057903664286267446?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-69191217868490140872010-11-24T18:39:00.000+01:002010-11-24T18:45:45.328+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TO1PJqI7OxI/AAAAAAAABFs/vSLig7Jdbx0/s1600/Frosted.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TO1PJqI7OxI/AAAAAAAABFs/vSLig7Jdbx0/s400/Frosted.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543173743712090898" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-6919121786849014087?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-18848467837429307212010-11-17T07:59:00.000+01:002010-11-17T07:59:00.198+01:00<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/cJzJE_lMjD8?fs=1&amp;hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/cJzJE_lMjD8?fs=1&amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-1884846783742930721?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-70800054125462795712010-11-10T08:44:00.000+01:002010-11-10T08:44:00.155+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TNmk3peWbFI/AAAAAAAABFk/SrdbeQCHqB0/s1600/Piranah.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TNmk3peWbFI/AAAAAAAABFk/SrdbeQCHqB0/s400/Piranah.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537638492761648210" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-7080005412546279571?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-10436447156590444912010-11-07T13:25:00.007+01:002010-11-07T13:54:55.397+01:00<p>Ah, yes, once again a long hiatus. I still owe you guys my Normandie adventure, and I haven't forgotten. The nice thing about the war is that writing about it has no time limit. (Is my excuse. :-) )</p> <p>Thing is, I'm having a collision of Fun Things to Do. I want to focus more on my blog, no, my astrology, no, my yoga, no, my decluttering (which has been neglected and therefore resurfaced), no, my venture into low-carbing, no, Joomla, because what that web guy is doing looks like so much fun, and why are there so many good web sites to browse, and a re-run of a surprisingly well-written and well-done Norwegian <a href="http://www.nrk.no/nett-tv/klipp/680683/">sci-fi TV mini-series</a> to watch, oh, yeah, and "The Event" is showing now, and that pile of interesting books to read, and all those podcasts to listen to, and meditation. I want to get back into meditation. And in between, my bi-weekly subscription to our local symphony orchestra's concerts.</p> <p>Whew. It's pure abundance.</p> <p>And at work, new department, younger people, fun people, people with a completely different background than mine. More meetings, more e-mails (thank goodness for GTD and "inbox to zero"). And more women around me so I renewed my wardrobe. No, I'm not going to compete with the 30-somethings. I'll tell you something, I have never felt threatened by other women. I may have sometimes felt inadequate next to the fashionable and polished because I, well, am not polished, but those moments are rare, because I generally am polished enough. But these days, with a flatter stomach and lots of great sweaters and purples in fashion, "unpolished" is working better. So I simply find it all inspiring. In general, I feel appreciated and I'm focusing hard on reciprocating. So for three months things have been busy, busy, busy, so time has broken the sound barrier and I can't believe this year is almost over, and I am actually pumped about 2011.</p> <p>I've always been a fan of the natural high and I've been on one since the start of August. I keep waiting for it to end, then I tell myself not to invite trouble, and I keep doing my new affirmation: "It is my good pleasure and my good to meet and treat everyone with friendliness." which keeps me on track, on this natural high.</p> <p>Maybe the food has something to do with it. Some students said on a radio program here recently that they tried low-carbing and said it was like an energy boost. Certainly I don't feel as lethargic, my digestion is far better (and I can no longer support the vegetarian agenda, which is a wee grieving process for me in the middle of all this "high" because it means letting go of a beloved paradigm), and my mood is more stable.</p> <p>I think it's a combination. Nothing like being thrown into something new to make yourself feel alive, and the affirmations and food sustain it.</p> <p>So, busy, yes. Having fun, YES!</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-1043644715659044491?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-61814405999461341452010-11-03T07:13:00.000+01:002010-11-03T07:13:00.199+01:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TNA488c-DmI/AAAAAAAABFc/yPli9AeJfxA/s1600/AutumnMix.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TNA488c-DmI/AAAAAAAABFc/yPli9AeJfxA/s400/AutumnMix.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534986561709280866" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-6181440599946134145?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-61620347387963967372010-10-27T16:17:00.002+02:002010-10-27T16:19:49.884+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TMg0ze8X92I/AAAAAAAABFU/Gt0RVFUt-4E/s1600/Chilling.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TMg0ze8X92I/AAAAAAAABFU/Gt0RVFUt-4E/s400/Chilling.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532730201308919650" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a><br /> <br /><a href="http://kafox.blogspot.com/2010/10/wordless-wednesday-autumn-bud.html">(Same bush)</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-6162034738796396737?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-20623759179955625112010-10-20T08:23:00.002+02:002010-10-20T08:23:00.296+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TL3iRYLliLI/AAAAAAAABE4/qMUTGP_4Soc/s1600/Katarina_1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TL3iRYLliLI/AAAAAAAABE4/qMUTGP_4Soc/s400/Katarina_1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529824705657538738" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/newhome/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TL3iRl74qII/AAAAAAAABFA/PyEeSVuJmRI/s1600/Katarina_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TL3iRl74qII/AAAAAAAABFA/PyEeSVuJmRI/s400/Katarina_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529824709349779586" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TL3iSJ2KdSI/AAAAAAAABFI/me-8FPPuk4c/s1600/Katarina_3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TL3iSJ2KdSI/AAAAAAAABFI/me-8FPPuk4c/s400/Katarina_3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529824718989456674" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-2062375917995562511?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-70613699940866640262010-10-13T17:31:00.001+02:002010-10-13T17:33:05.199+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TLXRGY6y-rI/AAAAAAAABEo/70I-S2N43js/s1600/AutumnBud.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TLXRGY6y-rI/AAAAAAAABEo/70I-S2N43js/s400/AutumnBud.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527554025365633714" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-7061369994086664026?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-80034019121999296392010-10-06T08:03:00.000+02:002010-10-06T08:03:01.124+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TKt2oixuV-I/AAAAAAAABEg/8a9qburc0ig/s1600/110.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TKt2oixuV-I/AAAAAAAABEg/8a9qburc0ig/s400/110.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524639806802253794" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p> <p>Emergency numbers in Norway are 110 for fire, 112 for police and 113 for ambulance.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-8003401912199929639?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-60942203173577574002010-09-29T08:05:00.000+02:002010-09-29T08:05:00.368+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TKDdDXVd26I/AAAAAAAABEY/nxpFZA6TjFo/s1600/AutumnInParkingLot.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TKDdDXVd26I/AAAAAAAABEY/nxpFZA6TjFo/s400/AutumnInParkingLot.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521656193029626786" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-6094220317357757400?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-64008545654829153812010-09-26T19:37:00.010+02:002010-09-27T20:07:01.859+02:00<p>It is perfect weather out today. After two days of a hard north wind, the air is calm, but the sky is still clear, and the sun still warms. It is the perfect walking weather. And because it is 2010, I walked to my grandparents' grave.</p> <p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TJ-O1TlOISI/AAAAAAAABEI/GOcrdP283vk/s1600/Churchyard.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TJ-O1TlOISI/AAAAAAAABEI/GOcrdP283vk/s320/Churchyard.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521288714620117282" /></a>The Norwegian custom is to bury the dead, primarily, though cremation is more common in crowded cities (and their equally crowded churchyards). Norwegians usually tend the graves themselves, with one of the more beautiful customs being a lit candle on the grave on Christmas Eve. I have never done any of this, but part of the funeral costs included gardening services from the city so the grave is always tended. The dead here are not embalmed, so their bodies do return to dust, as the Bible says. The usual is to reuse a grave after 20 years, when there is nothing left of the previous "resident". Exceptions are made for historical graves and family plots.</p> <p>I don't care either way. I am ambivalent about visiting graves. Mostly they remind me of new memories that won't be shared, and of new acquaintances not made. I always bring a hanky. I know I will cry.</p> <p>Because it would have been Grandma's centennial this year, my Sunday walk took me to the churchyard. I entered it from the top of slope it occupies and walked slowly down, noting how the churchyard was filling up, going up the slope.</p> <p>I walked down the path closest to the road and sought out the characteristic triangular headstone of a dear friend of mine. My best friend at the time. Dead of a heart attack at age 45, in 2000. I stared at the flowers on her grave, and a little "nisse" (Norwegian leprechaun) figurine someone had left. It looked like it might belong to a child. I thought of her granddaughter, a girl who would never know her grandmother, and the thought made me sad, because her grandmother was such a wonderful person. Warm, friendly, caring and cheerful - but with dark sense of humor I enjoyed. And best of all: She accepted me as I was.</p> <p>A little farther on, I past a grave marked with a wooden cross, used until the ground settled and could hold a headstone. The name surprised me: It was that of a young man who'd been stabbed to death this summer, creating a lot of headlines in our local paper. I felt so bad for his mother, having to bury her son before his time. In a churchyard, there are many who didn't make it to old age, but rarely do strangers know why.</p> <p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TJ-PC5KsyyI/AAAAAAAABEQ/j7t64tu61Tc/s1600/Grave.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TJ-PC5KsyyI/AAAAAAAABEQ/j7t64tu61Tc/s320/Grave.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521288948047727394" /></a>My grandparents' grave was at the bottom of the slope. The grass there smelled incredibly sweet in the sunshine. I squatted down, straddling the two graves, knowing the empty space to the left of the headstone was Grandma's, while Grandpa was directly beneath the stone. I heard Grandma's voice ask me to take my sunglasses off so she could see my beautiful eyes, and with a smile, I complied. It was such a familiar request.</p> <p>I sat staring at the names: Johan Arnt and Marion Naomi. Grandpa didn't like his middle name Arnt, but I'm not sure why. However, I did once come across some unsavory Norwegian Nazi by that name. Maybe that's why. Johan changed to John when he made an American of himself. I thought about his parents' grave. I remembered that his mother and father died within a year of each other, during World War II. Grandpa would not have been able to go home to attend a funeral or visit with family. The Norwegian Merchant Marine defied the orders of the Quisling government and refused to go to any German allied port during the war. Knowing he had had a good childhood, with loving parents and eight siblings he was also very close to, this must have been hard for him. He was always respectful of others and well-liked (even abused animals trusted him), and the love he grew up with got passed on to people not even of his blood: His step-daughter and her daughter: My mother and me.</p> <p>The young American widow he married was Christened Marion Naomi, and she wasn't wild about her middle name, either, although I always thought it was beautiful. In spite of a family situation dominated by a mother who was unable to show love for her female children, my grandma turned into a loving woman who genuinely liked all sorts of people. Grandma made friends very easily, and she always asked for their names (she told me this was deliberate, after meeting someone who told her the worst about a concentration camp was being reduced to a nameless thing, a number). I remember one friend she made during her last months at the nursing home because that woman cried and cried at the funeral and I could see she really was sorry Grandma was no more. Grandma became a mother to me when I was 7, and instead of enjoying retirement, raised yet another daughter and that in a foreign country. I had a good childhood with my grandparents, and Grandma was, amazingly for her generation, very open with me about all sorts of things, including sex. I miss our conversations. I told her everything, and I do mean everything. :-)</p> <p>I sat at their grave, missing our conversations, musing on this being the year Grandma would have been 100, trying to remember what she and I did on Grandpa's 100th birthday. On their headstone, only their years of birth and death are listed. I knew it was a deliberate choice, but I got to thinking about the absence of the actual dates. So here are their birth dates: Hers is September 22 1910 and his is October 7 1901.</p> <p>The sentiment on their stone - "Takk for alt" ("thanks for everything") - may be a cliché in today's Norway, but those three words are the best way to sum up the significance of what they did for each other and for my mother and me.</p> <p>I just wanted you to get to know them a bit better.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-6400854565482915381?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-11336642421672131492010-09-22T08:24:00.002+02:002010-09-22T08:24:00.903+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TI_MG326z8I/AAAAAAAABD4/hmvDgjPxTNc/s1600/LoneSurvivor.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TI_MG326z8I/AAAAAAAABD4/hmvDgjPxTNc/s400/LoneSurvivor.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516852486997725122" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p> <p>This would have been my grandma's 100th birthday. She loved pansies.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-1133664242167213149?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-76831467076900222022010-09-20T19:24:00.007+02:002010-09-20T19:50:32.883+02:00<p>I have been reading a lot lately. My latest read is a book by a Swedish doctor, Annika Dahlqvist, who was reported for malpractice a couple of years for advising diabetics to eat a low carbohydrate, high fat diet. She was found innocent of the charges as her advice was supported by studies.</p> <p>Lately, this nearly-vegetarian has given up her decades-long breakfast choice of rice milk and rolled four-grain mix and replaced it with boiled eggs and bacon. Butter is back in my cupboard. Meat and fish are finding their way into my home (if not in great amounts). Fruit is abandoned completely while nuts and vegetables are still favored. My beloved pasta is ignored, and I no longer eat bread or even oatmeal.</p> <p>This is the first time in years, lots of years, that I am not gassy and getting stomach pains on a daily basis.</p> <p>The discussion about whether or not you'll lose weight aside, the scary thing about reading up on diets, is discovering all the disinformation that's been fed us since at least the 1970's. Before insulin was discovered, diabetics were advised to eat a low-carb, high fat (LCHF) diet; this took care of the diabetes. Today's diabetics are encouraged to eat the same high-carb diet as the rest of us, with the assumption that insulin will take care of the blood sugar. Diabetics on the old-fashioned diet avoid the side effects diabetics on a regular diet develop. I've already learned that fructose is not good for you while cholesterol was never bad for you. But the biggest eye-opener for me was discovering that I have been given the wrong advice all these years about how to handle my digestion.</p> <p>I have always had sluggish digestion. But honestly, I didn't get IBS - where my constipation ceased to be only that and switched to more frequent bloating, pain, gas and even diarrhea - until I started eating more fiber to "cure" my constipation. (Sorry about TMI.) Now I'm reading that fiber damages the gut <i>and</i> converts to sugar! Fiber's behavior in the gut is to annoy it, not help it; fiber tears up the lining, which forms mucous to protect itself, and the mucous makes things slide along easier. But if what you want is lubrication, the non-harming alternative is animal fats.</p> <p>I'm still working on getting regular, but I will do it without fiber. I like going without the, er, sound effects.</p> <p>My new problem is finding eggs from chickens on the natural omnivore diet chickens are supposed to eat (like worms and stuff): All chickens - also the organic, free-range ones - seem to be fed corn and other vegetarian food because it makes the yolk more yellow. However, it means that the useful and desired omega-3 fatty acid gets reduced.</p> <p>And I'd like cheese and meat from grass-fed cows, organic or not, simply because that gives more nutrition a human body can make use of.</p> <p>It's a new dilemma, not only switching from vegetarianism, but also realizing that not even organic foods are the best choice if the animals are not fed their natural diet, only an organic one. I will supplement with cod liver oil.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-7683146707690022202?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-54395757376934745122010-09-15T08:23:00.000+02:002010-09-15T08:23:00.563+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TI_Lyy5oqZI/AAAAAAAABDw/NLyUfBvXu0A/s1600/Happening.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TI_Lyy5oqZI/AAAAAAAABDw/NLyUfBvXu0A/s400/Happening.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516852142069557650" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-5439575737693474512?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-41434872064504407412010-09-08T07:57:00.000+02:002010-09-08T07:57:00.445+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TIZ9QpeMtII/AAAAAAAABDo/IzF6FMWjIZw/s1600/Sunbathers.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/TIZ9QpeMtII/AAAAAAAABDo/IzF6FMWjIZw/s400/Sunbathers.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514232518725645442" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-4143487206450440741?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-4349158114345662822010-09-02T08:17:00.000+02:002010-09-02T08:17:00.187+02:00<p>…that happens to be in the wrong place.</p> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/THv2YMLiH-I/AAAAAAAABDg/xoLqVVcRMGU/s1600/SunflowerBalcony.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 280px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/THv2YMLiH-I/AAAAAAAABDg/xoLqVVcRMGU/s400/SunflowerBalcony.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511269464464826338" /></a> <p>Yesterday's photo is a close-up of the sunflower that has surprised me. I started this summer with pansies in all my flower boxes, but they quickly died. One did manage to sow a seed, though, so I have a pansy plant in one flower box. Weeds took over the other flower box. I decided to leave them as an experiment and to see what they would turn out to be. Most I recognized as local flora, but one was a bit odder. It turned out to be the sunflower.</p> <p>The other weeds do seem to be the flowering kind. And since they are welcome where they are, they are no longer technically weeds.</p> <p>PS: I can't remember where I first heard the definition of a weed introducing this post. The closest I can get to an original is by E.J. Salisbury, found at this delightful <a href="http://www.quotegarden.com/weeds.html">page of weed quotes</a>.)</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-434915811434566282?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-14857727215523857372010-09-01T08:15:00.000+02:002010-09-01T08:15:00.316+02:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/THv1mRJ_7xI/AAAAAAAABDY/A9WFkHCNrgg/s1600/SunflowerCloseup.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_B0Dxb_4uqmg/THv1mRJ_7xI/AAAAAAAABDY/A9WFkHCNrgg/s400/SunflowerCloseup.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511268606807109394" /></a> <p style="text-align:center;"><a href="http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/">Wordless Wednesday</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-1485772721552385737?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5750259.post-13075267521210213392010-08-31T18:13:00.003+02:002010-08-31T18:24:28.373+02:00<ul> <li>Came in from the rain and met a co-worker who needed an umbrella for an errand outside. So he got to borrow mine. Nice to be able to help!</li> <li>Got on full elevator. Full because our building superintendents had a cart for moving small furniture in it. No place to stand around it was left, but there was a place to sit - on it. So there I sat, joking with the supers, and offering a seat next to me to people wanting on on the other floors.</li> <li>Umbrella was set to dry by borrower. Nice to roll up a dry umbrella.</li> <li>Laughed myself silly during lunch. Even managed to be one of the ones saying something funny, making the others laugh, too.</li> <li>Made a joke with the new boss, without thinking. Discovered that that went over well. Making the joke, I mean.</li> <li>Cracked myself up writing this blogpost, remembering everything.</li> </ul><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5750259-1307526752121021339?l=kafox.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Keera Ann Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07466103379725251225noreply@blogger.com8