A Roll in the Universe

In Norway, all the eating and gift-opening and caroling and such is on Christmas Eve. No one goes to bed early, if they can help it. That leaves Christmas Day as a true day of peace (sleeping in, lethargy, whatever). It's a lovely calm and still wonderfully Christmassy. We got out and stretched our legs, in crisp and clear weather, with a light seen only at the extremes of midwinter and midsummer. Now at 3 pm, it was almost sunset, and the sun gave us its best pale light, transforming the landscape into deep blacks and umpteen pastels with hints of gold here and there. I was totally fascinated by the uniform and undisturbed frost of the piers as well as the light on Lysefjord (with the island that was Ole Bull 's last home in the background).

I had help goofing off and being goofy for Christmas. On Christmas Eve with a dear friend and his two teenaged kids, I lost 30 years off my own age (and maturity), and totally enjoyed myself. Flower stuck in my hair and "bunny ears" courtesy the 16-year-old of the house. I was the photographer (again). I totally relaxed, totally had fun (and lots of tickle fights), loved every gift and every hug I got, and had a most happy Christmas.

I do have something better to do, but want to let my just-finished frozen pizza settle first. Therefore, 40 questions, stolen from Beep's entry on her Livejournal . 1. What did you do in 2005 that you'd never done before? Take an animal to the vet to be put down. 2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year? My New Year's tradition is to spend a moment on New Year's Eve, meditating on what I want for the year ahead. I actually found my note for 2005, cleaning up. It reads in full: Over the years, I have prayed for many things every New Year's Eve. It really boils down to this: God, always be with me. For 2005, I want God to always be with me. And was God always with me? Well, actually, yes. That resolution is definitely worth repeating and keeping in 2006! 3. Did anyone close to you give birth? No. 4. Did anyone close to you die? Oh, boy, yes. My sweet grandma, in July. I no longer cry myself to sleep, but I ju

Last night, I finally felt peace descend on me. Final Christmas presents were in the bag, mail to America sent (late, but on its way), and I was suddenly a free woman again. I found myself in no hurry and decided to just sit for a bit, doing nothing. And so I discovered this year's Christmas decoration at our local mall. I'm not into nativity scenes. As far as standard Christmas decorations go, neither are Norwegians. They tend to stick to "nisse", their local version of a leprechaun, who is associated with Yule, or even the American Santa Claus. Previous years have had some rather tacky giant Santas hanging from the ceiling. Not so this year. I was a bit surprised at the gathering of wise men, angels, a shepherd and the parents with their new-born. Funny thing is, it appealed to me. I liked the subtle and simple way the eyes were made (so subtle you can barely make out the little crescents), the simple but effective way they differentiated between the magis' f

I'm redoing my homepages. Slowly, but surely I'll have something different to offer. I'll be spending the Christmas holidays working on it. Yes, in Norway's it's Christmas, not something generic in order not to offend anyone. We have a state religion, our king is head of the church, so it's Christmas. But I digress. I'll be taking some days off during Christmas and I hope then to get my website whipped into its new shape. For one thing, I have some things I want to write and publish, but want a cleaner style for that. I also want to publish photos more frequently, so am turning my main page (index.html) into a blog. So stay tuned!

Indoors.

One of these days, I'll figure this whole miracle thing out. I mean, it must be possible to be instantaneously cured, to have people just walk into your life and fix stuff for you, to create blue feathers out of thin air (that last is for those of you who have read "Illusions" ). In the meantime, I'm still doing the material version: I have a problem, I pray for a quick and speedy solution, and the solution appears as an item with built-in time factor. My slow miracle works, yes, but it reminds me that I still have a way to go in getting a grip on this whole spirit-in-a-material-world thing. So, I woke up at 4:30 am this past Tuesday, told myself (and God) that both the cause of and the cure for the rash in my armpits (!) would quickly and easily present itself to me. So what do I end up doing Tuesday afternoon? Visiting an ostrich farm, eating ostrich meat, and being told the virtues of ostrich oil on all sorts of skin problems, especially eczema-type stuff. I

It's been a long time since I baked pumpkin pie. It's my favorite, and I much prefer it to regular cake for my birthday. I don't consider myself housewifely at all, but there are some things I am very good at, and baking pumpkin pie is one of them. I'm good at rolling out dough. Don't know why, but me and rolling pins get along. My mother showed me a trick years ago: Pinching around the rim of the crust to make a decorative edge. It certainly does present the pie beautifully! Time for the pumpkin filling itself. Grandma loved my pies. She always thought I got the spices just right. I'm not telling you what I put in. That'll be my secret. ;-) I made two pies. One's done baking, and now it's the second one's turn. Yummy! I had two slices!

My mom sent me this cat figurine for my birthday. I was delighted, and chuckled at the feather sticking out of the left corner of his mouth. He caught him a bird! Then I turned the figurine around. I howled with laughter when I realized this cat has never been neutered. Thanks, Mom!

So now I'm 45. It's a bit weird, thinking I've made it to 45. Don't quite know why 45's so different. Maybe because, if this is halfway in my life, that means I have to live to 90, and that may not be as likely as living to 80. At any rate, I woke up this morning feeling a bit weird. But, I shook that off, and had a great day, including a visit to the optometrist. I have to laugh at myself. I am very well aware that the two sides of my body are quite different from each other. I have an uneven walk (mentioned before here); when I hit puberty, I had a right tit for 6 months before I also got a left tit; the wisdom teeth on the left side of my mouth grew in straight and perfect, while the ones on the right went sideways and forwards; I have a lopsided smile; and today I learned that my left eye is slightly near-sighted while my right eye is slightly far-sighted. The optometrist suggested that what I really needed was balance. Heh.

I rarely have lucid dreams, i.e. the kind you know you are dreaming, because you remember you had them when you wake up. I don't have those on any regular basis. But I did yesterday morning, and this morning, quite powerfully. Yesterday morning I had two different dreams: In the first, I was changing departments at work. I was asked to come work for a different department, and only at the end did I ask myself why I was leaving a good department and work I enjoyed? But the tone of the dream was energized and happy. Same for the second dream, only more so: I was visiting my mother, in her apartment, an airy apartment with a large living room and two small bedrooms, and big glass doors on both sides (i.e. both a front yard and a back one). She had been painting, in bold, clear colors, and we were inspired to use them as patterns for new curtains. As we worked together, my mother suggested I move in with her. My last thought before waking up was, "Then we need a bigger place.&qu

Nothing like giving your brain something to go "Wow!" about. I came across pykrete . I would love to see something the size of a skyscraper made out of that stuff. I have learned what a snood is. Jokes are a fun way to learn (it's also how I came across pykrete). My upstairs neighbor's first name. Like many Norwegians, he has two. I have been reminded that those around us, reflect us ("birds of a feather flock together"). I am surrounded by some really cool and integral people. Which means that in some way, I fit in. It's Thanksgiving in the US, so I'm giving thanks for my life being filled with such great people. Finally - and this one is worth the 11 pages of reading - colored soap bubbles . Enjoy!

Near where I live is a large pond called Ortuvann. This is one of the streams that feeds it. (Click on the picture if you want to enjoy the details.)

No, not that one. Rather, my eBay-virginity. There are so many places on the web for an innocent to lose any number of virginities. This past weekend, I finally made a foray into the world of internet auctions, rekindling my PayPal account and registering with eBay (as keeraann2005). I managed to lean on the chord of the power adapter to my tangerine (clamshell) iBook and caused a short. I needed a new power adapter. Those aren't easily obtained in Norway, so I decided to give eBay a whirl, while I erased the hard drive on my iBook (using the fully charged battery) - just in case. After all the rigamarole of signing up and signing in, I found what I was looking for (cutely called a "yo-yo"), and lay in what I thought was a reasonable top bid and then let eBay do the rest. I was eagerly refreshing my My eBay-page; it's a bit of a kick to bid at auctions. In real life, I tend to get carried away. :-) Since I had never done this before, I didn't think to chec

A year ago we started on what was to be one of the wettest late autumns/early winters in Bergen's history. This picture was taken then, while sitting on the bus. And now I've also tested Blogger's picture-uploading-thingy.

This past month I've spent talking to a company psychologist for two hours once a week. I'm used to talking my way through my life and life experiences, though not everything gets spoken right away. Sometimes I withdraw first. But later (like a few days later), the words come, and I either write or talk. Typical of an Air sign Moon: Emotions need words. If I find an outlet in one area, I don't usually feel the need to repeat in another area. It can actually tax and even bore me to do so. As I talk or write, I process. If the processing has gone well, I'm done and don't need to talk or write about it any more. Then there's energy. Trying to find the energy to be creative, to sit down and want to write. I miss writing, and I said I would blog more frequently, and I've missed blogging. But lately my energy has been spent on conversations with the psychologist (amazingly draining, that), and on my immediate need to change my behavior. Status hasn't cha

Someone asked on a astrology group what's up these days, since people seemed to be accident-prone, and experiencing upheavals and such in their lives – and all in the last week or so. Good question. One suggestion: The solar eclipse exactly two weeks ago. I expected to feel that, at 10 degrees Cardinal. The thing with eclipses is that they have an influence if they hit anything in your chart that is the exact same degree as the eclipse, in this case 10 degrees Aries/Libra. Or was that Nodes? Well, I'll claim it, anyway. Hits my Neptune and Nodes, which are all 10-something. Another suggestion is the inconjunct between Pluto and Mars currently moseying along together and have been for a while, at around 22 degrees (Sag and Taurus, respectively). Pluto is transformation and Mars is energy, and you may find yourself knocking things over and breaking them, literally or figuratively in your life, forcing you to repair or replace. With me, it's adding stress at work. Major stre

I came across this blog by accident. It's the very personal account about the victims of Katrina. Good writing, good photography. And it keeps grabbing me, over and over. I'm left awestruck, whether it's from the desperation, the frustration, the care, or the humanity. http://operationeden.blogspot.com/ is that good. I recommend reading the posts in cronological order.

In a world where things run smoothly, mistakes are rare, big mistakes rarer still, it has been an oddly mistake-ridden week here at work. We don't usually have to toss hundreds of business cards due to malfunctioning copiers. And we don't usually have to call for service on both color copiers on the same day. Neither do we make silly mistakes like moving a fold 1 cm too low, forcing us to remake printing plates and delaying truckloads of letterhead paper. Last week I blamed the eclipse for the madness. This week's theory for the snafus is bad feng shui . We are remodelling the entire lobby area of my office building, and with walls being removed, temporary walls coming up and moving around, etc., we may have disturbed some ancient marsh spirits (our office building is built on marshland) or at least the flow of chi. I know we've disturbed a support wall. Oops.

It's been a helluva two weeks, but I've managed to get through work without slipping into old habits, except yesterday. Too much work, including overtime, coupled with poor sleep was wearing me thin and pushing me close to old, bad habits (I think the Universe loves pushing the envelope). After such a week, there's nothing like having an old friend drop by for a visit. I was so looking forward to it, that I even tackled picking up the place with a fair amount of joy (and setting the timer for 15 minutes at a time). Then it came to time to vacuum. My trusty ol' sucker of 19 years just wouldn't unwind the electrical cord, so no vacuuming. Well, it had already started to leak around the hose, and I hadn't gotten around to duct-taping that, because deep down inside I really wanted a new vacuum cleaner, anyway. So I didn't get upset, and I was saved the bother of driving myself nuts vacuuming. Did I mention I hate vacuuming? It's the one household chore

September has been a month where things came to a head for me. I don't function well when I'm tired. Ever since childhood, I've always gotten cranky when tired. After a weekend of little sleep, I got cranky at work last Monday, and the person I was cranky with (a regular co-worker) took it so badly, that my bosses were told. So I had a meeting with my boss and his boss last Tuesday. Two very nice men, but I found it scary. I was afraid of losing my job. I had a day off the day after. A day to reflect and rest up. But I found that I was so upset, I couldn't face going to work. This year hasn't been much better than 2004. I tried to distract myself in March with my trip to California, but too much new and different plus the loss of my cat meant I didn't get my batteries recharged like I needed. I was looking forward to a peaceful summer vacation where I could completely suit myself, only to have it spent attending Grandma's funeral and to her affairs.

I thougt today would be busy, but no. So I'm just waiting to leave for the weekend. The whole department is going on a weekend trip (seminar) so I'm packed and ready to go. For the first time I don't feel like I forgot anything ('cept my camera, but sometimes taking pictures is an interruption, not a pleasure). I got tired last night, decided to go to bed early and instead get up early and pack in the morning. Even though I bugged myself during the night by waking up and saying to myself, "Do this! Remember that! Pack those!" and thought that maybe I should just get and pack already, I stayed in bed until the alarm went off a little past 5 am. I got up, did my usual doddling (which includes e-mail and news), and had an easy start to the day. Eventually, I was fed, showered and dress and tossing things into the living room that I wanted to remember to pack. The night before I had tried on clothes and had those picked out. To my own amazement, I was packed

Shutting a door hurt. It really hurt. I breezed through the first 6 weeks after Grandma died, only to crash and burn something awful last week. By the time Friday came around, I had found hell again, that old familiar short-tempered and sulky me, and I just wanted to wall myself in. A friend called Thursday and asked me to visit with him and his family for the weekend. I accepted. Good mental hygiene. So, knowing I was going to be gone from Friday evening on, I bought a fresh bouquet of flowers and went to visit Grandma's grave. She wasn't there. I mean, I go to her grave, and Grandpa's right next to it, and I can feel them there, I can talk to them and they answer back, and it keeps the loss and loneliness from getting under my skin. But they weren't there this time. They were gone, moved on. That hurt as much as giving up the key. No, it hurt more. I felt entirely homeless and abandoned. So I crashed, and kept spiralling down. I called my friend Friday n

Yesterday I had a meeting with the lawyer that wil be handling Grandma's estate. He was very pleasant man and our relatively short meeting went well. The main thing was for me to hand over the keys to Grandma's apartment. He asked me if I was sure. I said I was, that I was prepared to do this. So when we left, he locked Grandma's door. I'm not going back. I will never be able to go back. It hurts more than I realized it would. I got home, and thought about it, and started to bawl out loud. It's OK to hurt, though. It's part of the grieving process, it's a necessary "milestone". At some point I would have had to give up the key, the access to Grandma's home, so it may as well be now. The door is shut and all that has been for so many years is shut with it.

Someone on a newsgroup I frequent, on which I had complained that I was bored (which goes to show how bored I was), suggested I alleviate said boredom by freaking out. I replied that I do not freak out. I have stumbled across a hilariously written blog, at dooce.com , and that has alleviated today's boredom. I read the archives to learn of how the expression "to be dooced" came about. You'll probably want to read them yourself to understand this next part: The authoress of dooce.com lost her job because of her blog. She does things I wouldn't do to tell a story: Exaggerate and outright lie (i.e. her co-workers weren't really like that), but she does so with imagery and a pace that the writer in me finds inspiring and entertaining. But her bosses weren't amused. However, it was her defense of herself, her style, her blog that became the inspiration for this post: Apparantly, some people do "freak out". They like to rev up life's engine

From Ultraviolet's blog I have appropriated this interview because it seemed like an interesting change of pace from surfing Usenet looking for anything not boring, and shredding old bills and stuff (although shredding does have a certain satisfaction as the paper whines past viscious little electrified blades). (See how bored I am?) Questions edited a bit to suit me: 1. Can you explain when and why you decided you wanted to become an astrologer. Why astrology? I didn't really decide to become an astrologer. I decided to keep it as a hobby. Basically, my interest is genetic. My great-grandfather on my mother's side started keeping long hours at the New York City library, copying pages and pages of stuff from astrology books. I don't know why he did that, but he did suggest to his wife that she give astrology a try, since she was such a nosy-parker, anyway (you had to have been there). Well, great-grandma actually had a knack for horoscopes, and wrote for the now l

When I was a kid, I was sure I saw a UFO (unidentified flying object). As an adult, I learned that it was likely a jet plane, at just enough distance away to seem to be absolutely silent. Apart of me still likes to think it was a UFO. When I was a kid, I wished I was a witch. I always went as a witch at Halloween. What I really wanted were magical powers. I still wonder if that can happen. I've been raised on a diet of fairytales. There are stories circulating in many cultures about little people who live underground, under our feet, and who can do magical things. I sometimes wish fairtytales were true. I was raised on a diet of science fiction, too. Not only are there UFOs, but there are extra-terrestrials (ETs), visitors from other places that are here on Earth, right now. Or so some claim. And here is where my childhood dreams and wishes break down. I was directed to Coast to Coast AM radio's web site , who now offer broadcasts as downloadable MP3s, so I sign

A change has happened, for the better. A new era has started in my family. My grandma's passing has brought my mom and me closer, a blessed thing. Over the years, many friends have listened to my problems and complaints, including those about my family. I chose to inform several these friends of the latest developments - partly to bring them up to date, and partly to thank them all for their support and advice all these years. The list of people who have been my friends and allies contains more names than I realized it would, and still it is not a complete list. It's an abundance that I simply have not seen until now. I am truly blessed.

My mother has come over from the US, to attend her mother's funeral. She went with me to see the minister to discuss details about tomorrow's funeral and the eulogy. We thought we had covered everything, but just now remembered one thing about Grandma that was so obvious that we missed it: Her love of books. My childhood home with Grandma and Grandpa included a room that was lined with books. Grandpa built shelves and Grandma put books on them: Fiction and non-fiction, glossy coffee table books and cheap paperbacks. Murder mysteries, history books, biographies, classic novels, how-to books, travel books, art books, books about cats, flowers, Norway, Germany, the pyramids, science, astrology, meditation, yoga, diet, etc. I once asked her if she had read all those books and she said she had. Grandma's love of reading got passed on to her daughter and granddaughter. Mom is immersed in a book right now while I blog, which is what reminded her of her mother's voracious rea

I can't believe that the woman who has been in my life all my life is gone. The death notice was in the newspaper today, and to see my grandma's name in print made me bawl out loud. I'm expected to handle funeral details, some last minute paperwork, clearing out her room at the nursing home, etc., and this part of the process irritates me (it did when Grandpa died, too). I don't want to think right now, dammit! I want to curl up in a ball and just go numb until I think I can handle the change, the loss, the foreverness of her never, ever going to talk to me again, look at me again, touch me again, nor will I see her again, touch her again, speak to her again.

Life has interrupted blogging. My wonderful grandma, who has been like a mother to me, is on her deathbed. 11 years ago this week, her husband - the wonderful man I called Grandpa - died. Years ago, when I went to visit his grave, I got such a sense of loneliness. I told him that he'd have to be patient; we girls weren't done gabbing yet. The grave no longer looked lonely; he knew what we were like. This evening I visited Grandma. She's sleeping, unconscious, free of the chronic pain that has plagued her for years. Her kidneys are shutting down, making her fingers swell, and the wedding ring she asked for last week is cutting into her ring finger. I felt like visiting Grandpa's grave on my home. I spoke to the lone name on the headstone, the name that has been alone for so long, waiting for a second name to fill the gap underneath his. "She'll be here soon," I said. "It won't be long now. Receive her. She's coming soon to be with you aga

I enjoy how people play with words, making up new ones, and you automatically understand what they mean. (Can't think of any good examples, off-hand, except spork .) Just now, I came across "successories", "success" and "accessories" combined. Successories are motivational items, like a poster of a cat seeing a lion in the mirror with a caption along the lines of "It's how you see yourself that matters." I came across the word, reading someone's blog complaining about the phenomenon, meaning seeing people's offices full of successories . I know that stuff like that doesn't work with me. It tends to become visual clutter and get mostly ignored - until the day I feel like shit or do something really stupid. Then it too easily turns into a reminder of what an Absolute Failure I am. Who needs that sort of "motivation"? It's the mental equivalent of sugar highs: Sweet and satisfying now, doldrums later. As far as m

Well, that's how I'm dressed, at any rate. I said I'd blog more often and, darn it, I'm sitting here, dressed in black and white, and suffering from writer's block. I wrote something about stuffed closets and couldn't figure out where I was going with that, so stuffed it. So here I sit, white pants, black top, black patterned jacket, black shoes, white socks, black wristwatch and earrings with white flowers, feeling incredibly coordinated with my black purse and new black-and-white umbrella, which I used today, grateful that the rain was light and coming straight down so it didn't splatter my white pants. I really wish I could think of something to write about.

Dashed into the local grocery store for a frozen pizza yesterday. I fished, search, hunted and eventually started emptying my purse in search of my large coin purse which also contains my debit card. I pulled out PDA, iPod, credit card holders (two) and the new black coin purse I had purchased to replace my old one, wondering why it was in my purse already. I couldn't find what I wanted, but luckily had some "emergency" money tucked in my key chain, so I got my pizza and left the store. I searched my mind, trying to remember where I last had seen my old coin purse, and a vivid picture of me tossing it into the trash came to me. Oh, that's what the new one was doing in my purse! (Insert sound of slapping forehead here.) No, I don't know what sign the Moon was in. Well, actually I do, but it's immaterial. Sagittarius can do scatterbrained as well as that other Jupiter-ruled sign, Pisces, can. ;-)

...What use would you be? A really good read should get one thinking. Good science fiction would offer some what-ifs that are worth musing about. Like what if you are put into suspended animation and revived some centuries into the future? I - and many sci-fi writers - have often thought that would be a Good Thing. However, I've found a reason why it wouldn't: What knowledge could any one of us have that would be useful to people in the future? As any computer owner can tell you, there's nothing more unpopular or useless than obsolete technology. So unless you happen to be one of those historians or archealogists who likes to recreate how Cro-Magnon man actually made arrowheads from rock, there is not much you know that a society that still has electricity won't have improved upon in the next centuries. If, however, the power goes out, we'll need people like you - but darned if we'll know how to keep you alive for that.

Sometimes I read something that makes me go "Wow!" or that simply makes me go, "Well, yes, of course." Sometimes a combination of the two, like just now, in reading up on weather astrology. "[...]Swinging closer as he passed, he found [the planets] pitted with craters. They were creased with long, tortuous trenches and ridged with saw tooth mountain ranges. "In short, crossing the solar system, the space traveler found the world of the sun to be a desert, a corner of the universe where neither plant nor animal could live. "But what he now sees coming up before him in the distance is clearly something different. This planet is green. It looks like an oasis in the solar wasteland. As his ship streaks toward the burgeoning earth, he begins to make out details. He sees the glimmer of water, the ice caps at the poles, glittering in the sunlight; the green masses of the continents breaking up, the blue of the seas-all of it coming and going in endless

Jeg grisler med astrologi og prøver å spå været med det. Nå har jeg satt meg fore å spå været for denne sommeren og har startet en egen blog i så henseende. Så nå skal jeg konkurrere med meteorologene, men de kan ennå ikke spå hele 3 måneder frem i tid. Jeg vet ikke om jeg kan, heller, men nå skal jeg altså prøve dette. Vær klar over at jeg er en nybegynner og vil gjøre feil. Jeg setter likevel pris på tilbakemeldinger (kommentarer er mulig på værbloggen). Og nå: Været. http://bergensvaeret.blogspot.com/ One of my astrological interests is a branch of mundane astrology, known as astrometeorology. I have decided to give this a go, and have started a new blog with weather predictions for the city of Bergen, Norway. I am still learning and will probably make mistakes. And now: The weather. http://bergensvaeret.blogspot.com/

"There are of course many problems connected with life, of which some of the most popular are Why are people born? Why do they die? Why do they want to spend so much of the intervening time wearing digital watches? " The above is a quote from the book "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" by Douglas Adams. Adams (may he rest in peace) had a fascination with digital watches (as well as the fjords of Norway, and rightly so, but that's another matter). "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy", or HHGTTG, started out as a radio play in 1978 on the BBC, when digital watches were all the rage - a new rage. The rage really took off in the 1980's, along with other late 70's inventions like the Sony Walkman. Adams' wonder at the fascination with digital watches got me thinking. I tolerate glowing digits on clock radios, which I think is some kind of imprint thing, since clock radios in my experience have always had glowing digits. I fin

I've always thought Buster looked a bit goofy, but behind a somewhat crosseyed appearance and extremely easy-going temperament, is quite the intelligent personality. When I had Sammy, she would sit in the window sill and hiss at Buster down below outside. Buster would always look back up at her with an amused and curious look. (Once Sammy got out on the landing outside my door and met Buster on the stairs and they had a noisy fight, but no injuries.) Sometimes I'd see him down below, scanning the window sill for Sammy, if she wasn't there. When I run into Buster in the stairwell of our apartment or outside, I try to sneak a pet. Buster is a spayed black-and-white tom and large and hefty, and he lives in the apartment right above me. A few times after Sammy died, Buster has invited himself into my apartment, and sniffed around, primarily where Sammy sat most. I think he's trying to figure out why he hasn't seen her. I'm not sure about letting him stay for l

In Norway, most companies have a one-on-one annual review between supervisor and worker, where each, in a private and focused environment, can give and receive feedback. Today my boss chose to have ours. I have to admit that I don't look forward to such things. I'm always expecting the worst, expecting criticism only. It must stem from childhood because there is little - if anything - from adulthood that can explain this fear. I do get along well with my boss, but that doesn't make it comfortable for me to be in a position where I may receive criticism. Also, lately, my boss and I have been having silly misunderstandings (over choice of words and such), so before the meeting, I wrote an affirmation for myself: "This meeting is a joy and a blessing for all concerned. I listen with an open mind and open heart, and I speak clearly and respond with love." My boss welcomed me to the annual review between him and me, and then handed me a piece of paper and asked me

I was looking for a picture. I thought I had it on a blog somewhere. That's when I realized that some of my monthly archives contain only one blog! Hmmph. Well, I'll try to do something about that. Let you, my dear reader(s?), have something more weekly to read rather than monthly. Daily I'm not sure of. I write when the mood grabs me and sometimes the mood has no grip. And just so the title fits, I'll write my other thought for the day in another post.

I irritated myself the other day. It started with running into my old boss, the man who initially hired me 22 years ago at the company I'm still at. I was happy to see him, with mores lines in his face but still himself, and still blonde, not gray. He gave me a big hug and I got caught up on what his life was like now: Retired, doing consulting work 4 days a week, and apparantly (still) pleased with life. Then he asked me about myself: Was I married? Was I still living in the same place? I answered no and yes, and added "only boring to report". And that's when I irritated myself. My life is not boring! Experiencing no change in marital status or home address over the course of two decades is not the same as boring. It's stable, it's peaceful . I moved house so many times when I was a kid. I can remember three homes before the age of 6, and due to other moves and circumstances, I also have never attended any one school for more than 2 years. I am so happy to

Grandma has been transferred from the temporary department of the nursing home to the permanent residency one, and she needs a chest of drawers. So I said I'd clean out one of hers at home and bring it over. Grandma is far more organized in regards to personal possessions than I am, though age brings out the bad habits and short-comings. The two chest of drawers that are in her bedroom are neatly filled; whatever is of value to her actually gets put away. I pulled out all the drawers on both. One had mostly clothes, the other mostly papers so I decided to empty the one with clothes. Papers take too much time to go through. So began my task of going through Grandma's things (I can't stand the thought of someone else doing the same with my stuff, which is one reason why I want to declutter my home - but I digress). The top drawer and top of dresser was full of old cosmetics and skin care products. 99% was trashed. I found a letter from my mother to Grandma, about a painfu

There are innumerable quizes to take on the web. "Which color are you?" "Which dragon are you?" "Are you a redneck?" You get the picture. The latest quiz I bothered to take, was the cynic test . One of the questions was, "Do you believe in magic(k)?". I answered "yes". There have been books and articles on the nature of "magic" in our lives. The transcendental writings of, say, Henry David Thoreau, are one example of discovering the magic in our lives, i.e. the wonder that is happening right under your nose, in your own life. There is also the claim that there is no such thing as coincidences. The psychologist Carl Jung went one step further and noted that people would experience "meaningful coincidences", like having been invisibly guided to the right moment or person or thing, a phenomenon he called synchronicity . (The link takes you to the skeptic's take on Jung's idea, so you can draw your own co

Prologue 1: We have just finished a period with Mercury retrograde (Rx), the time when the planet Mercury seems to move backwards. This happens about three times a year. Since Mercury is the planet of communication and paperwork, all kinds, its condition can influence everything from relaying a simple telephone message to international computer systems. The keywords for a Mercury Rx period are that such matters will experience misunderstandings, glitches, delays, or false starts. Anything done during a Mercury Rx usually requires extra care and even redoing in order to get things right. Mercury was still retrograde Monday evening where I live. Prologue 2: The influence of a void-of-course (VOC) Moon is often compared to Mercury Rx. The hours the Moon is no longer forming an aspect to any other planet, and will not form a new aspect until it changes sign, are considered to be a time during which there is confusion, miscommunication, or lack of action. In horary astrology (the only tru

Native Americans say that it is bad for the body to travel too fast for the soul can't keep up. And it did take me a whole week, after I got home from my vacation, to truly feel like I had finally come home. I have spent 3 weeks in California, in the Bay area, staying with an old friend about 45 minute's drive from San Franciso. I hadn't seen my friend in 15 years, but it was as if no time had passed when I saw her again. I had a wonderful stay! 3 weeks felt like 3 months, and I thoroughly relaxed. Coming home did not give me the same feeling of joy as I usually get. There were a couple of reasons for me to be struggling with feeling "home": I am not yet done with grieving for my cat. I still wish I could hold her again. Waiting for me in my mail was the pick-up slip for Sammy's ashes. She haunted me when I got back. I saw her walking in the hall, I heard her scratching in her litter box. These "hauntings" disappeared once I got her urn placed

Many have asked how I'm doing after losing Sammy. Thank you for your concern! Here's an update: I attended the annual new age fair in Bergen the weekend of February 18, this time to promote the newly started Bergen Astrologiske Forening (astrology association). I bought a pendulum, too. Once home, I asked the pendulum some questions about Sammy, crying as I did. One question was "Did I let her go too soon?" The answer was "no". Well, that relieved some guilt. A week ago Wednesday I was feeling miserable. I had been experiencing minor annoyances, little (unimportant) things breaking or uncharacteristic accidents (like bread catching fire in the microwave; I didn't know bread could do that :-) ) or my plants starting to die, ever since Sammy died. Harmless stuff but I associated it all with losing my "familiar", my four-legged guardian angel. So my miserable feeling was from frustration and a little fear of the destruction around me. I screamed

My lap is empty, my heart is broken. I keep looking at the bed in the guestroom for a furry back, curled up in sleep. In the kitchen is an empty food dish, and the bag of favorite kibble. The dish has remained empty since Monday afternoon, when I came home, and was greeted by a cheerful Sammy , with her tail held high, chirping at me, as cats do when they are happy to see you. I hate myself for having abused the situation, her trust and her sweet nature at that moment, because I scooped her up and started to shove her into the cat carrier. She hates the cat carrier, never likes what it means, and I felt horrible because I knew why I was doing that. I actually wailed out loud. My own resolve nevertheless surprised me and I got the cat into the carrier. Then I wandered around aimlessly crying and bawling out loud. Then I called a cab and took Sammy to the veterinarian. I didn't have the courage to stay with her for her last moments here on Earth. I wimped out, more focuse