A Roll in the Universe

My mom knows I'm kinda geeky (and honestly, so's she; we once worked for the same computer company) so she knew I'd be interested in how the cursor actually does its thing . It's a Flash demonstration, so just wait a bit, then move your own mouse pointer into the light gray circle. And yes, I know it's absolutely silly, but it really tickled my funnybone.

Somebody has a picture of a hamburger on their blog. Big picture. Big burger. And they are giving it (the burger, not the picture) a review. Which is something you'll probably not see on my blog. A food or restaurant review. I don't know what things are called, and my cooking is more a la short-order cook than chef. Thing is, my relationship with food is simple: If it's there and I'm hungry, down it goes. I was raised to eat what was before me and to try anything once (which I still do, short of those deep-fried spiders and live octopuses, but I have eaten dead octopus). I am even more willing to eat if it doesn't require any work on my part. Here's the funny thing: I will happily cook on my stove for you and go through all the preparations and clean-up. I do not get the charm of skewering a hot dog and holding it over a campfire (I get sitting by a campfire and watching red glows wink off into the dark as they rise above the flames), or finally threaten

I have a couple of knitting friends (waves to Sravana and Paula ) and so of course I thought of them when I went to our museum of arts and crafts to see the Knitnic exhibit . Objects and advertisements were made from knitting. I especially enjoyed the entire white wool living room set which included side table, chair, TV, lamp and telephone, right down to the power cords. A cute idea was a pointed bit of orange purlknit still tethered to its ball of yarn, entitled "Making a Carrot". Equally cute was the miniature red quillotine. Artists. They do think of the darnedest things. (More photos here , also showing the artists.) The picture above is of a teddy bear knit from bronze thread. We were warned that it would look very soft to touch, but would give us nasty metal splinters if we did. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to photograph, so used my two youngest friends as alibis for taking a picture. Recently confirmated Odd Erling on the left, and his older sister Ann-Krist

In a comment to my last post there was a suggestion that I got my morals from a religion. I replied "My morals have not been dictated to me by religion (because I didn't have one), but by my family, society and personal experiences." Actually, I'm not sure where I got my morals from, but I assume it was family first and society second because religion just didn't play that big a part. Well, it did, but not for the reason you think. I was raised by my maternal grandmother and her husband, my mother's step-father. Grandma was half Irish and half English and her mother got hell from her Irish family for marrying "that Englishman" (spit it out when you say it, and you get the picture). Grandma had lived first-hand through the divide that religion and ethnic differences can cause and also through the screwier side of Victorian child-rearing (such as never informing your daughters about puberty) so never shoved religion or way of life down anyone's

I just read an article on theists vs. atheists and it was not a waste of time. It was a very good look at how the non-believers and believers can get along and why insisting on not getting along isn't a good idea at all. Over on my other blog I go on about God a lot. I try to write for the atheists and those folks who grew up feeling strangled by religion and so have trouble with the word "God". (Since I found a definition of God that doesn't include a definition of hell, I'm OK with the word and concept.) But I cannot speak about my own spirituality and spiritual process without including God because that's not how I am wired. And apparantly we are wired for such things. Faith or a need for a faith is emerging as something genetic. And for that reason, I am baffled at how atheists get through their day, their life without having a faith, without prayer, without a desire for a connection to something bigger and better than oneself, and at the same time a

Sheesh. My last post brought even me down. It's not that my life doesn't have its ups and downs, but I tend to want to have something constructive to say about it or do about it, so focusing on the word "sadly" just - sucks. Even in a blogpost. So while I do have some potential health issue to explore, I'm not down! I'm not doing "sadly" any more. Here's actually what's been happening: Just in the flow, man, in the flow. Or in the zone. You know, when you are completely present and everything just flows right along with you. For example, the ceiling lamp in my living room: It is of such a design that it looks best with one of those large, round bulbs, not a regular incandescent bulb. So I finally found myself in the store in town that sells such bulbs, stocking up on the special size coffee filters I need, and on impulse bought a bulb. At home, I thought I'd re-use the regular bulb currently in the lamp, but when I grabbed it to unscrew

My last post was written during a sickleave from work. Since then, Norway's Constitution Day (May 17) has come and gone, without me participating in any way this year, and I had one day at work, a quiet day, since many co-workers had taken the day off to extend their weekend. Today I braved the cold wind and enjoyed a cruise with Bergen's pride, the barque "Statsraad Lehmkuhl" , chartered by my trade union. It was an enjoyable 5 hours in the middle of a Saturday, in spite of rain and strong wind. The ship itself glided smoothly through the choppy waters, and below deck, we stayed warm and entertained since there was wine and beer and a jazz band. My brain is actually preoccupied with my health and an odd word usage of late: Sadly. I find things make me sad. I'm not sure why, but the word "sadly" pops up easily in my speaking and writing. Could be a phase. Or it could be something else. I'm not in the habit of getting sick barely a half year afte

A father proudly posted the URL to his 13-year-old daughter's website to a Usenet group I read, boasting his daughter's site gets 21,000 hits. So I took a look. The tiny photograph of the web mistress herself showed a pale and serious face framed by dark hair, the almost gothic and always closed look some kids sport. Me being me, I clicked on something called "too much time on my hands" and landed right in the test results of "Most Likely Way to Die" which had "Suicide" far outranking all other options. So I asked the dad about whether or not he knew the dark thoughts lurking in his daughter's mind, and both he and another dad promptly suggested that childless I had no clue what kids' humor is like today. The test is all in fun, silly. It is very possible that I don't know what today's teens find amusing. The teens I do know personally don't have this dark, permanently pouting outlook on the world. Now, I have no persona

Paula tagged me, and when I saw what I had been tagged with , I immediately felt at a loss. You see, my relationship with restaurants in Bergen is, well, more or less non-existent for a couple of reasons. First of all, my company has an excellent employee cafeteria and a hot dinner Monday through Thursday. I get my dose of salted cod, or Ma's meatballs, or lapskaus (Norwegian Mulligan stew) there, cheaply and without the fuss or leftovers such dishes cause a single gal (who doesn't really know how to make them, anyway). Secondly, though Norwegians eat out far more than they used to, and the variety of restaurants and types of food has multiplied the last couple of decades, it is still relatively expensive to eat out in this country, and so it's not done that often, not even weekly. People who do eat out once a week or more either have an expense account or still live at home and pay no rent. So if I'm going to fork over that much money, I want to feel it was worth

I have a folder in my mail application, labelled "surf" into which goes e-mails containing links to sites to read or explore later. Most of the mails are from myself to myself. Here are some gems worth sharing: It’s not what you plan to do that comes first, it’s what you’re willing to give up to make time and space to do it. From the Lifehack article Letting Things Go , which is a good read for us procrastinators. It touches on one reason we don't do what we want to do: We simply don't make the time for it. Somewhat related to the above is Merlin Mann's suggestion for getting a fresh start by replacing one project . Find something that gets you really excited and makes you feel energized and hopeful about the prospects in your life. Pretend for a moment that you can finally scratch an itch that you may never have acknowledged until now. [...] Excise something stupid, and undertake something cool. Widgety goodness - via your browser (seems to work in Camino

Sravana writes about an aura test , which includes a bit about so-called Indigo children. I took the test, not really expecting it to be more than entertaining, but the last questions about "red overlay" made me cry. After answering about likes and dislikes of various kinds, came a reminder about how an abusive or neglectful childhood can sidetrack a person. Which made me think about recent events. The physical therapist currently loosening my knots had a monologue about his past dabbling in New Age, about working out childhood issues, and his decision to just say, "those aren't deciding the rest of my life!", and about how people have stuff buried in them - and in their bodies - that if they dealt with would leave them happier and healthier. I tried to respond to all this, that I had been working on these issues my entire adult life, and was pretty self-aware, but he just wasn't listening, so I gave up. When I went back a week later, he asked me if I had

Been there, done that (BTDT) is a phrase often heard (and often joined with "Got the T-shirt"). My books show me an interest in astrology, palmistry, auras, healing, reflexology, ayurvedic medicine, macrobiotics, psychic phenomenon, pendulums, chrystal healing, aroma therapy, the tarot, yoga, reiki, UFOs, chakras, automatic writing… All collected over many years since I was 18, and all more or less tried out. I came of age in the 1970's, during a high time for New Age matters, and a renewal in something else called New Thought. I ran to psychics, astrologers, palmists, sometimes wishing I had their gift. As a young woman who was confused and clueless about her future, it was easy and fun to seek out answers that way. And for this budding yogini there were also any number of spiritual teachings to check out and sort through. Over the years I have been told I am an old soul, formerly an Egyptian priestess, a bitchy 13-year-old prostitute with bad teeth, a communications off

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said , "To take the first step in faith, you don't have to see the whole staircase: just take the first step." Faith is a very difficult notion. So many try to compensate for a lack of faith by using will-power or rituals. And so many feel they have no faith, that they constantly fall short of believing in whatever deity they want to believe in. In my metaphysical readings, I came across the statement that faith requires - faith. At first glance, that doesn't seem all that helpful. But here is what is meant: Faith isn't something you start out with, faith is something you give yourself by just believing it is worth it. Faith isn't something you have; it is something you build. You need just that one belief: That there is a power in the Universe that wishes you well and that you are a part of and therefore can use. Evyerthing in this world is meant to support and continue life. You are no exception to this rule.

The Griffith Park fire has made the Norwegian news. For me, it's like watching my own home go up in flames. Griffith Park's Greek theater was the first place I ever attended a rock concert, and in trying to get tickets to another rock concert, I managed to run a red light and get a different kind of ticket. I used to drive Los Feliz Boulevard to work and college, as a way to avoid freeway clogs. I always enjoyed that part of my drive, with thick woods to the north of the boulevard and nice homes and view of the city basin to the south. The most beautiful part was coming to the final bend that put me on Western Avenue. Suddenly, the street would stretch perfectly straight out and below me, with traffic lights glowing in a straight line way off into the distance, being the only thing to penetrate the haze. I saw this cityscape as a work of art and actually played with the idea of doing an India ink drawing and wash. The idea is still in my head, and I still enjoy the memory.

Things can be extremely seasonal in Norway, sometimes to the point of comical, as my grandma noted when she discovered that house slippers are sold only at Christmas time. That was then; now, slippers are sold all year round. However, don't expect to find bathrobes in any other month than December. And so it is with confirmation . You find the pre-printed invitations, his or her decorations, and greeting cards for the confirmating teen only in spring, even though some kids have their ceremony in the fall. A few hectic weekends at the end of April and beginning of May see churches stuffed to the rafters as young teens renew their pledge to their faith. This year there is a confirmation in the family, as it were. Torleif's youngest will be dressed in a gown, wearing a nice suit and tie underneath, receiving his blessing in the old church in Os. Today I shopped for a card for him and discovered that the four choices of my youth (two for her and two for him; never is gender dif

In regards to Saturday's post about a certain work situation: Meetings today resolved it all. However, I have chosen to remove that part in Saturday's post and any comments relating to it. I would love to be able to talk about my job, etc., but I neither want to be dooced nor accidentally badmouth my company. I have been employed there for over half my life, I have just realized (wow!), and it is a very good employer. Case in point: My situation that got resolved swiftly and happily for all parties today, and I got kudos[1] for the way I handled it. I am not sorry for my initial post. I was somewhat shocked about what had happened, and the feedback I got from my readers, as well as their (your) concern and advice, has helped make this situation easier for me. I am sorry your comments to Saturday's post had to go because of what was being commented on, but I hope you can feel me reaching out through cyberspace to give each of you a big, warm hug of gratitude. [1]Did yo

In a (pretty much political) discussion elsewhere in the wide world of electronic communication, I offered this "advice": Never let fear advise you when making decisions. I got the reply that for that to happen, you need truthful information. My reply to that was that fear is fear, no matter what causes it. Then I was asked about "never". I confirmed "never". Fear is destructive and, as the motivation behind decision-making, the exact opposite of love. Too many people make decisions because they are afraid of some consequence, rather than making a decision that will actually make them happy. This led to my discussion partner stating that fear has its uses, such as in keeping you from getting hit by a car while crossing the street. To which I said that I have never avoided crossing streets on a red light out of fear. I have, however, not done that because I understand the physics of a mass of metal bearing down on me at 30 mph or so and the reaction time re

Lately I've been getting what I consider an odd comment, but when I think about it, I think it's just how some men compliment a woman: A couple of men have expressed surprise at my unmarried status because I am a fine woman and ought to make someone a good wife. The physical therapist I saw Monday asked me why a fine woman like me wasn't married. I had a stock answer (wanted to figure out how to make myself happy, rather than expect a man to do so) but later wondered why I even had to answer that question. I asked it of myself, and it occurred to me that there was an assumption that being married must be a desirable goal or state for everyone. I got this assumption a second time at a company picnic last night, when I was again asked why a fine woman like me wasn't married. Why didn't I have a man? My expression led my questioner (whom I was dancing with at the time) to start sputtering and add, "Or a woman, uh, if, er, well..." So why am I not marri

I tell people I'm on a diet. Don't know why, really. I guess I just don't want to keep it secret. So now I have people telling me that I must be joking. They tell me I look great. Have I accidentally sabotaged myself? While it is nice to get compliments, having been 120 pounds for 20 years since age 18, weighing more is unusual, and weighing way more even more so. I'm not really used to or comfortable with seeing rolls of fat on my belly (a feature that clothes camouflage and so I fool people). I had some leeway for a while, but no more. One book I read said that your optimal weight is what you weighed when you were finished growing/developing, plus or minus 10 per cent, which means over 20 pounds less than my current weight. Even my current goal of 10 pounds' loss, will leave me over my optimal weight, but hopefully those pounds will not be around my middle any more.