A Roll in the Universe

That is to say, I am very clever at taking IQ tests. (Swiped from Paula .)

Museum_garden_August_2006 by thinkbigshrinktofit . I'd still get no better than a "C" ("G", as it used to be in Norway) in history, with my memory for names, dates and places. I wander around with my local history "class", listening to someone tell me who did what when, and I just know I'll forget and not be able to tell anyone else. But here's the gist of it: The university of Bergen was established in 1946 on a hill called Nygårdshøyden (literally: New farm height). However, people had been doing advanced studies in that area for about 80 years already. One man's hobby had become a valuable collection. That man was Wilhelm Frimann Koren Christie, Norway's first parliamentary president, right after Norway got its own constitution (in 1814) but was still under Swedish rule. When Christie became disabled about 10 years later and could no longer work, he devoted his time to collecting historical items of all kinds. This collection

I ran across another American-in-Norway's blog and he told of making the mistake of making a full-fledged American sandwich, complete with "lid" for breakfast, whereas the Norwegian style is one slice of cheese or coldcut on a slice of bread, no sandwich. And today my brain interpreted "ice" as meaning frozen water, forgetting for a moment that Norwegians shorten icecream to "ice" (which does mean frozen water in Norwegian, too), so I was surprised by the coffee with icecream in it, but it was actually pretty good. Norwegian food has traditionally been colored by limited area and climate for farming, spoilage (which lead to lutefisk ) and poverty. The result is that a traditional Norwegian dinner used to be sinewy meat, heaps of potatoes with bad spots, and cabbage or carrots or cauliflower as a second vegetable (if any). Meat was expensive; fish was cheaper. Such was the situation when we arrived in Norway in 1969. No salads, no garlic, and the veg

I was raised by old people. A man of 67 and a woman of 58 took me in and got the joy of raising a kid through puberty all over again. And they did it quite well. For this reason, I don't see old folks as some uniform, brain-dead mass thanks to their uniform hair-coloring and face-wrinkling, but with the expectation of them as being as wonderful as my grandparents, and with personalities and habits just as unique. I have yet to be disappointed. But they grew old and died (a fact that still pisses me off). The growing old part wasn't bad. The growing too weak to have fun wasn't good. So what have I learned from this? Old age is not an illness, nor are illnesses a feature of old age; if an elderly person gets sick, it's because something is wrong, not because they are elderly. Some people are tough as nails, healthy as apples, and as with it as a young genius, and they're pushing 100. Some people are picking out caskets at age 30 and in them by 60. My grandparents

I love political jokes (not if they're elected, though). The recent discussion on my blog in the comments about some political(ly flavored) jokes that have been deleted, has prompted me to explain further why I don't want them on my blog, my personal space. A couple of weekends ago, extra police were monitoring Bergen's main town square (Torgalmenning) because there was an anti-Israel demonstration taking place, and the police were expecting trouble. My stomach instantly tied itself into a knot. I told the people I was with that such demonstrations, with heated arguments, black-and-white thinking and accusatory rhetoric, took me back to my childhood, and not in a good way. For that reason, I do not like extreme views or the aggression that accompanies them: Somebody gets hurt and the "victim" may not be who you think it is. When I was 8 years old, I came to Norway with my grandma and grandpa. Both were pacifists, having seen first-hand what war did to people.

I've been accused of censorship here on my blog. Lately, I've deleted a couple of comments because they referenced - unkindly - a public figure. I don't do politics here, and I certainly don't do political jokes. Here are my reasons: This is not a political blog. I want to leave something useful and constructive behind; plenty of other sites offer all the political jokes and putdowns anyone could ever want (and I read them myself, but passing them on is not my mission in life; neither, sadly, is microwaving popcorn successfully). I change my mind a lot. I may think it's fun to laugh at A today, but in a year from now, I may be A's staunchest supporter. Hell, I even like Jimmy Carter now (you have no idea how crazy he drove me when he was president; the man couldn't move his lips when he talked). And I vacillate on gun control and God and sweet-n-sour sauce, all the time. It does me good to keep it nice; crap is ubiquitous. I prefer not to have my comm

Distracted by Sravana , I went to discover my power color and got the same as Sravana: Indigo . Thing is, that really isn't me at all. I don't require praise and attention when I'm down; when I'm down, I either want you to fuck off and leave me alone, or make me laugh. I have no dramatic flair, and may be mysterious but never romantic. As for the eternal question being "Does This Work Into My Future Plans?", well, I have no future plans. At all. Well, maybe I'll do the dishes some time in the future, but that's it. So I went back and tweaked my answers (truth is, for some questions, all the answers fit, and for some questions, none did). And I got this, and it really reflects me: Your Power Color Is Red-Orange At Your Highest: You are warm, sensitive, and focused on your personal growth. At Your Lowest: You become defensive and critical if you feel attacked. In Love: You are loyal - but you demand the respect you deserve. How You're Attr

3866 hits to my website in one week. It's a record! The majority of hits come via my blog. Usually, my post Losing my virginity is what draws the crowd in. This week, though, it's my untitled post about Quaoar , which tells me that some astrological people out there are looking for information. So here's my take on the news about new planets or demoted ones, as it relates to astrology: First of all, my stance is that one should first understand traditional astrology, with the original seven rulers (Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn) since they aid in understanding the signs and houses, and vice-versa. You can get a depth in understanding Mars when you know it rules both a cardinal (pioneering) Fire (spirit) sign and a fixed (steadfast) Water (emotion) sign (Aries and Scorpio, respectively). Likewise, knowing that stodgy Saturn rules Aquarius can clue you in on that sign's true nature rather than going by revolutionary Uranus alone. (When Uranus,

Funny thing is, Saturn rules a lot about me, astrologically. You Should Rule Saturn Saturn is a mysterious planet that can rarely be seen with the naked eye. You are perfect to rule Saturn because like its rings, you don't always follow the rules of nature. And like Saturn, to really be able to understand you, someone delve beyond your appearance. You are not an easy person to befriend. However, once you enter a friendship, you'll be a friend for life. You think slowly but deeply. You only gain great understanding after a situation has past. What Planet Should You Rule?

Nice weather for ducks by thinkbigshrinktofit . A test of both Flickr and taking pictures in the rain. My Canon Powershot S2 IS (Flickr reveals all) is not waterproof. Nevertheless, I took a chance, trying to keep the camera covered until I was actually ready to point and shoot. (One reason I took a walk is my current weight: 66 kg, and only 1 pound away from "overweight".) So on Flickr now is Ortuvann in a light rain, a first for me, as well as the European (or black) coots (sothøne, på norsk), shown above. (Much experimenting; this post made via Flickr.)

Finally did it. Got an account with Flickr and have posted the whole series of photos (well, all the good ones) from my warm August evening walk there. See new link in sidebar.

...and that means graffiti. I won't go into the particular wall in question. I'm more fascinated by the art it has become the canvas for. (Via Mighty Optical Illusions blog .)

I'm not talking 'bout moving in, And I don't want to change your life. But there's a warm wind blowing, The stars are out, and I'd really love to see you tonight.* Once again, I caught a glow coming through my living room drapes and looked out an incredible salmon sky. Nothing for it but to throw on the shoes, grab the camera and get myself down to the pond, stopping on the little rise between my apartment building and the shortcut I take to the lake to shoot this: Thing is, as I discovered upon stepping outdoors, it was a balmy evening. A warm wind really was blowing and so instead of settling for a dash down to my favorite spot for a last view of sky vs. water, I decided to walk all around the pond. On my way, I heard geese honking overhead, and I saw a bat flying. And as I got to the end of my walk, I saw a black cat sitting in the light of a street lamp, a picture waiting to be taken. So I did. *) A warm evening walk like this always makes me hum England D

Idea (and an invention) stolen from Boiled Dinner . (Why do I do this to myself? I can't think of 13 anything - or can I?) 13. Stretch jeans. Mmmmm... Comfy! 12. Penicillin /antibiotics. I dare say that that one discovery (of penicillin as an antibiotic) was the key to our increased longevity in the 20th century. And it saved my life once. 11. Eye-glasses and eye-glass fashions. (Those of you who like to poke the most sensitive part of your body may say "contact lenses".) 10. The new plastics (or composite resins ) they use to fill your cavities and that let you eat immediately afterwards. 9. Today's sanitary pads: Thin, can be worn in any kind of panty and protective "wings" that keep said panties unstained. What a change from the bulky pads (with or without a belt) with a life of their own that I started out with 33 years ago. My next adventure is the age where this is all a moot point. ;-) 8. Clumping kitty litter. Flushable, perfumed, clumping k

The title of this post comes from misreading the title of this article in the Boston Globe about being organized. I'm a time management junkie. I love reading about time management, about organizing, filing, making lists, crossing off tasks, fiddling with the item-specific icons in the datebook on my PDA, downloading umpteen time/task/file management programs out of curiosity more than dire need. Do I manage time? Hell, no. Am I organized? Well, at work I am, but not at home. Do I procrastinate? So I read blogs like www.43folders.com and such. No, I don't practice GTD , I just like reading about it. I also peruse organizing sites like FlyLady for the same reason. (Though FlyLady is currently getting me off my butt. Again.) Weird? Naw. Other people like to read recipe books but never cook. Still others read about foreign countries and never leave home. Et cetera. Speaking about travelling, here's an online utility for generating a universal packing list . And yeah

eBay sent me an e-mail about eBay Express - "an exciting way to shop". So I wandered on over/in and decided to look at handbags, narrowed down by color and material , and still I've got 10 pages with 90 items each to look through. Ah, bliss. If you don't hear from me in a week, please come and get me. Look for the deliriously happy woman under a pile of black Hobos.

In a beautiful village in Norway there was a really nice lake where the townspeople, young and old alike, loved to go to on warm summer days. Now it happened (as it usually does) that there where hooligans about town who liked to cause mayhem and do damage for no apparent reason. At this lake there were docks and floating rafts for all to enjoy. Well, these hooligans saw fit to disconnect the most used and beloved dock and set it adrift in the lake. The townspeople, young and old alike, were dismayed (to say the least) and greatly missed their dock. They swam in a lackluster manner; they sunned themselves less than wholeheartedly. As it happened, during this time there came to town Sterke Dame. Now, you couldn't see Sterke Dame was an unusually strong woman just by looking at her. In fact, she was the mother of two and what is called middle-aged. But when she arrived at the lake and saw the sad state of affairs, the down-turned mouths and the dock floating at the far end of the

I have umpteen photos from a couple of vacations to sort through and share on the web. I have many other photos that I'd like to share with all of you so I joined Flickr. The sorting and deciding still needs to be done. In the meantime, another sunset (hi, Max !). This one was taken about 75 minutes earlier in the evening than the one on July 7 . The days are getting shorter. I'm looking forward to the darker evenings. They make it easier to justify staying indoors sorting photos.

If a guy hands me that line, I'll answer yes, after having seen OK Go's truly creative use of exercise equipment. (That the song appeals to me doesn't hurt, neither.)

Sravana's comment about hair (BTW, thanks for the compliment, Sravana !) on my What was easier when I was younger post made me think about the adventure that has been my Hair. First off, I was blond as a kid. My hair was straight, baby fine, tangled easily and never really stayed put in any scrunchies, rubber bands or barrettes. And then it got darker. From plain ol' blond to dishwater blond to non-descript all-over medium brown. My hair had turned into the epitomy of Plain. My hair is straight, very straight - and will not hold a curl. You curl it, you look at it for 10 minutes, and the curl's gone. It's magic! When I was younger it was also amazingly frustrating. Also, the hair, being straight, fine and plentiful, tended to lay itself down against my head under its own weight and fineness. And it was greasy. Oh, the remedies I subjected my follicles to! From green soap to so-called dry shampoo, rubbing perfume on it (alcohol was supposed to be drying), giving mys

Over on Lifehacker.com, a question has been asked about what was easier when you were young. Go to the link and see other people's replies. I don't have any, myself, because all I can think of is: Nothing. Nothing was easier when I was younger. Except being arrogant and a real know-it-all. Now I'm sometimes humble and a real know-some-of-it-all. Oh, sure, it was easier to wear size 4 jeans and bend into an almost-pretzel, but does that matter? I mean, I can still reach my toes without bending my knees and fit into an airplane seat without touching the passenger next to me. So what's easier now that I'm older? Accepting myself. Loving and styling my hair (once chemically fought with tooth and nail). Knowing what is likely a really dumb thing to say and not say it. Being right and not saying a word about it. (Heh.) Saying yes. Buying music I love, especially the stuff I couldn't afford when I was a teenager (here's to re-releases of everything 70&

Many years ago (almost 20), I got into a phase where my dreams featured cats. One or two doing something, behaving a certain way. The first dream featured two red-and-white cats, and I mean real red, an unnatural color for cats. I had this dream during the weekend and it was so odd, I remembered it. The following Monday, at work, I found out that two co-workers had lost loved ones over the weekend. I had other dreams featuring a cat, usually a black-and-white cat, and would then find out that someone had died. Often the death or the person dying echoed the cat's behavior (quiet, boisterous, etc.). I got nervous about dreaming someone close to me would die. When I got a cat of my own, though, I stopped having these dreams. Well, they're back. I had two dreams featuring black-and-white cats. In one dream, I let two cats in from the outdoors. One acknowledged me, the other more reserved. In another dream, I was cleaning out my suitcase and closed the lid a bit, and a cat insid