On The Far Side Of The Sea

Cat Music

2012-01-25T00:31:00.004Z

For one month and a half our two kids have been playing together late and early, hunting high and low, using balls, newspaper mice, you name it, Serina and Amidala have done it.
Serina came home in mid December with her bachelor degree and left for further studies in Ireland today.
Meanwhile we have all been under the influence.....
She is totally obsessed with the new Sherlock series. Down in Gunnar's study she found her old flute and some sheet music, trying out some lines from Paganini, opening music of the series.
Amidala was not amused. She simply lay her mighty body on the sheets so Serina was unable to read to music.
Lots and lots of laughter. Gunnar caught the golden moment with his iphone.
I just stood there laughing.

Gattina from cats on Tuesday is hosting this meme. Visit her.

Interior collage

2012-01-22T01:24:00.019Z

Selv gamle damer er opptatt av interiør og design. Som pensjonist tilbringer man mer tid hjemme enn noensinne. Livet går i sakte valsetakt. Gjenbruk har vært et ideal siden oljekrisen tidlig på syttitallet. Jeg har satt sammen et stilleben av gamle tekstiler og gjenstander fra loppemarkeder, Fretex samt småfunn og litt arvegods.
I bakgrunnen et dansk litografi, fransk kjeksreklame, og norsk rosemalingsbrett. Bedehuskaffekjelen som rommer 5,5 liter fant jeg i en mørk kjeller. Ståluglen, en brevpresse som er formet etter høyrehånd, og både signert og nummerert, er min manns loppetrofe som jeg har kidnappet for ti år tilbake. Har valgt en sjokkrosa, steintøy 2 CV sparebørse til center piece.Second hand Torbjørn Egner og David Baird utgaver symboliserer kjærlighet til bøker fra vugge til grav.

Tinnuglelysestakene er arvegods, mens plastkoppen til høyre er en overlevning fra en henfaren thermos. Lappeteppene er annengangs gjenbruk fra bruktbutikken. Den turkis husmorstolen med stålunderstell og små hjul fra femtitallet er også funnet, mens pleddet til kr.39,50 ble kjøpt på Fretex sist fredag. Ingen bestemt stilart, men mange glade minner fra et levd liv.

Even old ladies like me fancies interior design. After all I spend most of my time at home. I like to rearrange my old and new findings. Recycling has been my contribution to a greener world since the 1970-ies. Daughter Serina has encouraged me to read the blogs of Todd Selby. Here I was inspired to compose a still life contribution for a competition on a Norwegian "fabulous" interior blog .

Dette er mitt bidrag til interiørbilde.
Linking to .::{fabelaktig}::.
Take a peek at her wonderful Scandinavian modern interior designs.

De Profundis

2012-01-21T17:42:00.007Z

Serina has taught me how to blur a background. Yesterday's blessing.
My soul is singing De Profundis.
When all promises and words of comfort are failing, there are always the Psalms.

Magical Mystery Teacher is hosting Ruby Tuesday 2 together with Gemma Wiseman

Blessed Day

2012-01-16T09:06:00.020Z

Living with chronic diseases in two towns has made our little family exhausted, vulnerable, but also thankful for the many blessings other may take for granted.
Last week was no exception I had a doctor's appointment, aa physiotherapist appointment, Serina and I went to stay with my Mom for three days and sought things out about her health and house. We had a great time together, went out to a confectionery and met with many of Mom's friends.

We drove home through a blizzard to reach my physiotherapist. Small, curvy Norwegian winter roads along a steep fjord side are not for amateurs. Serina is luckily no cowardice snail, but a very skilled driver. Surrounded by angels in front and after, we came home whole and healthy.

I use my refrigerator door as a memory board. I'm collecting GOOD memories. Like yesterday when we were at an art exhibition, the first this year. A video installation picturing the life of an elderly window, her memories from a long life both in Norway and America.

Serina offered to make us dinner. After living 4 years away from home she has developed into an excellent cook. Darwin would have loved her; "Survival of the fittest. "
.Salmon baked in oven with potatoes, red pepper, garlic,cheese, yoghurt and leek. Yummy.

We had double espressos and ice for desert in the living room. Serina came up with the marvellous idea of reading loud from Tolkien's The Hobbit. She got the novel for Christmas and was very well aware that neither I nor her father had bothered to read the book.
Besides Christmas Eve we hardly practice loud reading much nowadays. It made great fun, and while the ice was melting, our minds were blooming.

Serina and Gunnar alternated reading while I sat fiddling with my camera. Serina is headed for studies in Ireland next week, and needs to practice English pronunciation.

Gunnar also found it easier reading from the ipad after awhile. The letters in the Hobbit pocket book are very small indeed. Imagine, it's 75 years since it first was published. One of Serina's favourite actors is busy filming the book on New Zealand these days.

Meanwhile I sat admiring a lithograph I bought short time before Christmas. I like the mix of figurative and abstract expression. My head was filled with hobbits, wizards, trolls dwarf and elves, and after two chapters I know for certain this is a novel I'm going to finish on my own. I cannot imagine why I haven't read it earlier. Maybe it was recommended by the wrong people??

It's been a long time since I have been enjoying the peace and togetherness of our family this much. Even my telephone call to my mother was relaxing. My best friend from my childhood and her husband were paying my mother a much appreciated visit. I just felt how my tense shoulders were relaxing. Other of my best friends are living in our books, they are stacked in every room of our home.

My old Remington Portable is accompanying my PCs in the library, decorated with a postcard from Dublin Writers Museum.
I bet Serina will repay the place a visit during her one semester stay at Griffith College. I know parting will be tough. The only thing worse, would be her not being able pursuing her dreams making a future for herself.

Magical Mystery Teacher is hosting Ruby Tuesday 2 together with Gemma Wiseman

Books, Bread and Roses

2012-01-09T19:54:00.014Z

I've bought myself presents for this Christmas. Really, I so deserved them.. Books are written by authors John Cowart and Barbara White. Cowart is writing about almost any theme under the sun, and he does it well. His rock is his Christian belief, not that of a Sunday Christian, but the real thing, that of a whole person devoted to God through sun and rain, mud and silk. I love him.

I've actually set up my own shop this autumn, a Norwegian edition of Etsy, selling old goods,- using the money to buy new old treasures. Like this old bowl hand painted in farmer's rose pattern. They are rare to come by, and I love mine.

The saying "bread and roses" goes way behind. I'm among those women, who buy flowers, when buying groceries.
The Christmas decorations are well tucked away in the attic. Now we are longing for brighter days to come. I need to see spring indoors, even if the storm is howling outside.

I just today found this poem by James Oppenheim. It has kind of a jubilee,being written in 1912. I never knew its origin before I Googled "bread and roses" for this post. A textile strike in Laurence, Massachusetts took place from January till March 1912 with mainly female employees.

As we come marching, marching in the beauty of the day,

A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,

Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,

For the people hear us singing: "Bread and roses! Bread and roses!"

As we come marching, marching, we battle too for men,

For they are women's children, and we mother them again.

Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;

Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses!

As we come marching, marching, unnumbered women dead

Go crying through our singing their ancient cry for bread.

Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.

Yes, it is bread we fight for -- but we fight for roses, too!

As we come marching, marching, we bring the greater days.

The rising of the women means the rising of the race.

No more the drudge and idler -- ten that toil where one reposes,

But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and roses! Bread and roses!

Magical Mystery Teacher is hosting Ruby Tuesday 2
You'll be amazed what wonderful ruby themes and writings you'll find there.
She's co-hosted by Gemma Wiseman
a clever wisewoman.

Badge created by Gattina. Pay her and her cats a visit too.

Amidala's latest sport

2012-01-02T18:58:00.013Z

Our dear cat, Amidala, has conquered new hunting grounds this Christmas.

Her favourite targets are the red Christmas tree bulbs.
She knows she not allowed to kill indoors, but the call of the wild is just too strong.

Here she has managed to pull one bulb down while I was adjusting the camera. She rapidly pretended to have struck gold in the flower pot as she detected the camera lens.

The target is about to become the fourth victim this Christmas. The others were crushed against the wall. My greatest fear is that she'll be hurt by the glass shards.

Amidala cannot resist the sound of a cracking catch. She's pullling the bulbs up against the wall till there's nothing left, but an empty shell.

Gunnar had to carry the reckless warrior away to protect her from getting hurt. Amidala sure is not amused.

New Year, Old Life

2012-01-01T09:57:00.002Z

Yesterday was December 31nd 2011. Today is January 1st 2012.
I don't feel different, more hopeful or happier.
Life is as challenging as it ever has been, and there's nothing I can do about it.
Other than maybe, keep on keeping on.
Or maybe not.
With only my ME alive and kicking, I am simply an exhausted overachiever, "tight as a tourniquet, sharp as a razor blade, dry as a funeral drum."(David Gilmore)

There are good days, bed days and bad days.

Then there are these days when I feel an intense need to let all masks fall, to stop fighting, and let nature take its cause.
But, halt; nature too is created by God.
My God, the one and only.

"For I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: and though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God; whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another; though my reins be consumed within me."—Job 19:25-27

I know that, and that is all I am allowed to know about the future.
So be it.
I've decided these must be the promises, the cliff on which I shall build my New Year.
Now, I've better go to the TV and join the wonderful New Year concert in Vienna.
Great way to continue keeping on.

Christmas decor by my Mom

2011-12-19T05:56:00.011Z

Theme for this Ruby Tuesday is Christmas decorations crafted by my mother. Christmas time is very special to our culture, first and foremost because it is Christ Mass. We celebrate Christmas Eve. It starts when the church bells are chiming the night in at 3 pm. A reminiscence from Catholic times in Norway 500 years ago.

For table decoration I cover the tablecloth with place mats. My mother has crouched pieces for plates

and glasses in red cotton. Sets of six, for our own core family.

These pot holders were made in the seventies, using cotton, insulation, glue and embroideries. I love this couple and have never met their likes.
My mother never liked mass production. Her products are therefore very special.

Yuletide is also an even elder celebration of winter solstice, December 21st. Our yule-nisse is a very far relative of Santa Claus. He is in fact a tiny fellow living in barns and require special treatment at Christmas time, such as porridge and leftovers from the heavy yule dinner. If he's not well waited upon, he'll make nisse knots in the girls long hair and the cows will produce sour milk.
The nisse family are playful, but also craving.
They have the power to protect and spread peace on the farm, but will only do so, if well treated.

My mother painted these three plates for Gunnar, Serina and me in the eighties. I cherish them highly, and would cry if anything happened to them.
The red nisse hoods are knitted by wool, and used in many ways, not only in Christmas time. During the war, ( Yes, WW2 is what we mean by the war. In contrast to others we were actually occupied for five years, and the wounds are still not healed) as a symbol of Norwegian resistance. The nazi leaders actually forbade Norwegians to use the nisse hood. Shot was he who didn't obey.

These nisse maidens are made by fabric print and embroidery. My mother again. She cut the forms, made the printing and sewed pattern. They are originally meant to be curtains, but this year I have used them for kitchen table cloth.

Little by little the table gets messed up during advent time. Then this bouquet of tulips, which I received for my birthdays was freshening the table up. Thank you, Mia.
Now the family is gathered and in just five days the waiting will be over.
Sometimes I think that the waiting is almost as precious as the celebration.
December is filled by preparation and joyful expectation, plus two birthdays in our family.
Joy to the world.

Visit teach Mary for more Ruby Tuesdays here

Nativity Scnene on Tuesday

2011-12-12T17:34:00.012Z

A Norwegian enter hall is bigger than the Americans. First one is supposed to take off ones shoes in the outer entry room. Then there's a wardrobe for coats and rain gear e.t.c. Just because of the climate we simply need lots and lots of space for these things. Then there's our old chest of drawers containing this and that, scarves, mittens, caps, reflex bonds, sunglasses and whatever one might need for a comfortable outdoor life.
This Advent I also set up our Nativity Scene there.

Even though the same old figurines are present, they every year seem to choose different ways of presenting themselves . The main persons, Josef, Maria, baby Jesus and the shepherds were bought home made of white plaster in the seventies. We were three friends who came together to paint them with watercolours. They sorely need repainting, but because of the good memories, I'm somewhat reluctant to do that. Home made angels from way back are attending. So are people from every corner of the world.
The cernit angels are reading in the old Bible belonging to my father, the Gospel from Luke 2.

Serina's red haired angel seems to have been partying too much before the night. Oh, I love that funny face. I also love the wise-man from Germany, given to me by my life long German friend Christa. The mini chandelier is a gift from a family friend, Magda. She deeply influenced me in her mild, but firm way of living Christianity. She would have been 124 years this January. I still miss her and cherish every single memory after her.

The Globe is placed there for symbolic reasons. The treasure chest is from one of Serina's many toys. The little puppy has faithfully followed me for 56 years. It sure deserves its place among the worshippers.

Persons of all sizes and shapes are present. The big ones originally belonged to my second Nativity Scene. I gave it away this Christmas to a family who had none. The shepherd and the flute player figurines are made of ceramic and bought just because I stumbled over them and thought they might fit in with the rest of the crowd. The Weihnachtsmann is another gift from Christa.

Wishing you all a Silent Night with peace at heart wherever you may be.

Visit teach Mary for more Ruby Tuesdays here

Second Sunday of Advent

2011-12-05T05:19:00.015Z

This week we shall be lightening two lights. Two lights for hope and peace.

Advent means Arrival. Maria was the first waiting for the arrival.
How appropriate that she was selected among "The Silent of the Country".

This Mother Mary, made of ivory, was the first gift I gave my husband to be and the coming father of our child .
It's almost as if she becomes alive when I'm trying to make her portrait.

I have met the most wonderful people in blog-land. Barbro taught me how to make my own candles with angel décor. She's such a young and inspiring acquaintance, a creative homemaker with food for body and soul.

There's a mini angel in this photo with a read necklace. can you spot her?

Our Carl Larsson girl is placed under the old fashioned candlestick, patiently waiting for the arrival.

Even the old youle nisse has placed himself in my grandfather's chair.
He's dressed in the sweater my mother knit for me when I was a toddler. Serina also used it for a year, before the old man claimed it.
The nisse is meditating over Christmas Hymns while looking fascinated at the Star of Bethlehem.

I posted this Ruby Tuesday early Monday Morning just to remind you that daughter Serina is facing her first of to oral exams today.
Praying is not cheating, even if my little brother thought so, long time ago.

Visit teach Mary for more Ruby Tuesdays here

Ruby challenge

2011-11-29T17:27:00.017Z

I did promise a report from our (Gunnar's) garage. Sometimes promises are hard to keep. Me and my big mouth. Six o'clock today, it's dark, the storm is howling and salt rain comimg in horizontally from west .

In his garage a man is eager working, wearing thick, fake fur lined coveralls. Gunnar is busy mending the automatic garage door opener.
The light is good for work, but not for photography. I simply had no time to use photoshop. What I saw, is what you get.

No problems fining red in the garage. Skis stashed up under the roof beams.

I don't even know the names on the tools Gunnar is using. This is so definitely his place.

Bar chairs beside the heavy work bench.
The man knows what a man needs to make the wheels turn around.

When spending hours working, often with mates, he needs to relax from time to time. The chair is not orange, but post box red. Genuine leather, Italian design. Best and finest chair we've ever had.

Serina and I are represented with our bicycles. I never had a driver's license. That is weird coming from a car family.

Gunnar's beloved MG. Made for export to America, hence the wheel on the left hand side. Her first owner bought her in San Francisco in 1953. Second owner bought her in Vancouver and brought her over to Norway. Third owner Gunnar has been in faithful relationship with the lady since 1971. 40 wonderful years together.

She's been a work under construction for a couple of years now. She's become a demanding old woman, and Gunnar has three more females craving his time, plus Amidala, our truck and Serina's car. Poor man. He has indeed deserved his red chair.

Half resting with yet another tool sake in his hands. Wrench maybe?

Here's the right red colour of the chair and Gunnar's gloves.
New haircut today, not bad at all.

The door is almost fixed.

Bits and pieces.

More.

The L is from when he and Serina had driving lessons. She came home glowingly proud. Dad had taught her to do reverse in 8 number shapes.
Later hand brake turn.
Oh, my. They spent some real quality time together, and Serina ended up being a very skilled driver.

The man and his car.

Wet gloves hung to dry.

Jackson's jack.

Gunnar never stops admiring the fine curves of the car. I agree. She may be old, but her beauty is for all to see.

Visit teach Mary for more Ruby Tuesdays here

Daily Manna

2011-11-17T01:36:00.002Z

I can sympathize with Steve E's concern; "is there food on your table"?
Like most Norwegians we have placed our kitchen table beside a window. We like streams of daylight, and we like to know what's going on outside.
I know I should have tidied up before taking the pictures, but this is how we live. Eating bread, smorgaas,orange juice, meat, reading morning paper, telephoning, listening to the radio, discussing, making notes in the Moleskin, reading loud Corrie ten Boom, "This is the Lord's day." Short and straight to the point words for the day.

Dinner; water, fried fish, onion, potatoes, fresh herbs and butter. Fruit and cheese. The paper still not done with.
Here's the place we like to gather and also when having guests. Plenty of place for six once the books and papers are gone. The candles and figurines get to stay.
Days like this (yesterday), are more valuable than anything I can think of.
And then there's coffee.

AUTUMN DELIGHTS

2011-11-14T21:28:00.005Z

Our mispel hedge in the front yard doesn't care if it's mid November.
The red berries are brightening my days both indoors and out doors. They look so wonderful, but I doubt that they're edible.
Wouldn't it have been wonderful if they were??
I could have filled my freezer in no time.

As it is, I use them for decoration. They need no water and a little twig makes the world of a difference on our kitchen table.
Great joy # two this week, when I received my Mazawattee tea box, which I ordered in a second hand internet shop. "Old Folks at home" is the title. My grandmother used to have a similar box filled with wonderfully coloured and shaped buttons. When I got too restless for her taste, she would hand me the box to play with and also tell about the items in the box. A pearl in my memory book. I have placed it in front of my couvert. Just seeing it, brings sun into my heart.

This Carl Larsson girl, modelled after his paintings, is also having a good time on our kitchen table between mispel berries, foliage, pine cones and pebbles brought home from various hikes.
Heaps of delights assembled on a tin tray.

Autumn in the Garden by Henry Van Dyke

When the frosty kiss of Autumn in the dark
Makes its mark
On the flowers, and the misty morning grieves
Over fallen leaves;
Then my olden garden, where the golden soil
Through the toil
Of a hundred years is mellow, rich, and deep,
Whispers in its sleep.

'Mid the crumpled beds of marigold and phlox,
Where the box
Borders with its glossy green the ancient walks,
There's a voice that talks
Of the human hopes that bloomed and withered here
Year by year,--
Dreams of joy, that brightened all the labouring hours,
Fading as the flowers.

Yet the whispered story does not deepen grief;
But relief
For the loneliness of sorrow seems to flow
From the Long-Ago,
When I think of other lives that learned, like mine,
To resign,
And remember that the sadness of the fall
Comes alike to all.

What regrets, what longings for the lost were theirs!
And what prayers
For the silent strength that nerves us to endure
Things we cannot cure!
Pacing up and down the garden where they paced,
I have traced
All their well-worn paths of patience, till I find
Comfort in my mind.

Faint and far away their ancient griefs appear:
Yet how near
Is the tender voice, the careworn, kindly face,
Of the human race!
Let us walk together in the garden, dearest heart,
Not apart!
They who know the sorrows other lives have known
Never walk alone.

Visit teach Mary for more Ruby Tuesdays here

LIVING ON A THRESHOLD

2011-11-13T12:58:00.012Z

For more than two months our small, but closely knit family has been constantly living with a death sentence hanging over us.
I've not been comfortable with the way my mother has deteriorated since early spring. She is both bold and stubborn, and has pulled herself immensely together every time we have visited. She also managed to put up a bright face during our daily telephone calls.
At the end of August she agreed to spend some days at the short-time nursing ward in Sauda, for physical training and some vitamin shots.

The following day we received a telephone out of the blue, "Your mother is having severe ventricular fibrillation. Do you want us to interfere if she most likely goes into a cardiac arrest?" My dinner jumped up and down the oesophagus like in an elevator. "Just what are you trying to tell me?"
"Your mother is having a heart attack so severe, she's most likely going to die on the two hour drive to the hospital. Do you want us to use a defibrillator?" "Yes of course, why should you not?" No sensible answer.

At the ER a new doctor is asking the same question, but now I am more conscious. "Why is that a question at all?" "Sometimes the patient can get a brain damage if she's without oxygen for too long. We therefore want the family to decide." "I want for my mother to live as long as God lets her live and I also want you to use your professional skill to help her the best way you possibly can."

After some nerve wrecking hours my Mom was admitted to the heart emergency ward. Serina and brother Kel were on their way and we started on our ten day long surveillance, never leaving our Mom alone for a second.
The third day they cut Mom off water, oxygen and medical supply after having pumped her full of medication the previous days. She also was denied the handful dose of various pills prescribed her by the family doctor.
Everything was shut down and the bed wheeled into a dark room with nothing in it. No monitors, no alarm; just silence.

Room without a view. "Am I in prison"? Mom asked.

I decided I wasn't going to let my mother die of thirst, so I got some water and a straw. She drank a glass in one big sip. For 36 hours we continuously gave her water and Coca Cola, 1,5 litres, plus tiny bits of milk chocolate melting inside her mouth.
Our Mom continued to breathe and live. She opened her eyes and asked, "Am I going to die?" "Maybe," we said honestly, "if God will."

The doc found out this "trying to let my mother slip into coma and sleep in," had gone on long enough. He put her on medication and nutrition and let her stay for nine days. Serina and Kel had to return to their schools. Gunnar and I worked shifts by her bed.
Before she was to be discharged Gunnar and I went to Sauda to fetch gear, lots and lots of gear, so that Mother could stay with us after her hospitalization was over.
Imagine our horror when we returned to find Mom was moved to a geriatric ward before being sent to our home. There she fell out of the hospital bed and seriously injured her head and right ankle. They didn't even bother to x-ray the injuries.

How helpless a person is, when ill and only pros to take action.
Somehow hearts and feelings are all lost in the battle for survival.

Mother stayed with us for over a month, we dined on the terrace, made walks in the garden. She and Gunnar even went for a car trip, before we had guests, who mother glitteringly entertained with her favourite poetry.

Then came the day I knew would come; she decided it was time to move home to Sauda to get physical treatment. After all, she had one broken left hip and one sprung right ankle. Kel followed her home. She was sent back to the local short time ward the next day. This time for three weeks. Nothing much was done. We had to call a meeting with eight persons in charge. Eight persons of whom only three were working at floor level.
Now my mother is back in her home with nurses helping four times a day. We have been there once, but the fear will not let go.
We all have adjusted to the fact that our mother may die in the near future. We will never accept that she shall suffer, hunger, live in fear or in pain.

Prayed? All the time. With my Mom and together. Looking backwards; God hasn't let us down. The daily manna has been provided us day by day.
Walking on promises only, isn't easy for one who thrives being in control.
We have experienced, we are never alone. Angels have been surrounding us all the time.
We, who are slow to learn and who forget so easily.
This is partly why I'm writing this post, for my own good.
On the threshold between life on earth and eternity wonderful things do happen.
The way we measure and value our lives inevitably changes. Money helps buy service, but only so much. A smile, a shared meal, a story, a picture, a hug, some hours of sleep; all the wealth of King Solomon cannot buy or replace these treasures.

Now is time for retreat. Tomorrow will meet with it's own demands and blessings.