DIY Diva? Or: an ode to my talented friends and family

For one who considers herself to be pretty crafty, and who has, since school ended OVER A MONTH AGO, had a lot of time on her hands, I have made shockingly little for this impending baby. My mother in law asked me last night if I've been knitting and sewing and making stuff for the babe and I had to admit that I really haven't. I've worked on my book a lot, and made a few things for other people in the past month (Mexican-style glass candle holders, made for Lauren and Julie, pictured below on our tiny deck)...



...but I have been a total slacker as far as the babe is concerned. But I realized that partially, this is because I have had other people making such gorgeous stuff for me. I thought I'd post some pictures of some of the beautiful handmade things Ben and I have received from friends and loved ones.





Here are two gorgeous quilts, made by the baby's two future grandmothers. The first is a quilt my mom made from fabrics that actually came from my grandmother, Gladys (my dad's mom). My mom found these scraps in the attic when my grandmother died, and made our family a beautiful wall quilt of them a few years ago. When I told my mom I was pregnant she decided to see if she had enough to make a little quilt for our baby, too. The fabrics probably come from 1940s flour sacks and they are almost all different. It is such a nice thing for me to see these fabrics that come from two generations back, and each one is really beautiful and sort of surprisingly exotic. My mom is an amazing quilter. She is very methodical, has this wonderful sense of layout, and redoes her quilts until everything lines up right. This is not a skill I have. Last year I decided that if I wanted to stick with sewing I had to basically make a pact with myself to stop measuring unless I absolutely had to, because measuring was making me crazy. So, I admire my mom all the more, because her handiwork is just so good.

The second quilt just arrived in the mail this morning from Ben's mom Ann. It is stunning. Ben's mom has an incredible sense for color and is willing to be bold at all times (we have a bright orange and green winter quilt that she made us to take here to Norway, to stave off the dark winters--it worked!). This quilt has this beautiful centerpiece that is sort of off-kilter, and Ann's friend Linda helped her quilt it (i.e., do the part where you drive all over it with the sewing machine/by hand and make it puffy and quilted). I really love it. In fact, I am thinking that it might get hung on the wall instead of go on the baby's bed. But then, I said that about my mom's quilt at first too, and have since agreed that the babe can have it if he really wants. Speaking of which: there are an awful lot of pinks in Ann's quilt. She is pretty convinced we are having a girl.





Here, you can see Mr. Stuffed Rabbit, who arrived with Ann's quilt this morning. He was made by Linda, the quilter. I love Linda--she used to own this fabric store with lots of batiks and other beautiful exotic fabrics, and she makes these amazing creations out of them even though she's now, I think, a real estate agent. This rabbit is so cute and so very cool--again, more art piece than baby toy, and he might have to wind up on the wall instead of in the baby's crib. We shall see. He is totally sturdy, with all these nice subtle touches, and frankly I think Linda should really go into business selling these guys! In the second photo, Mr. Rabbit wears a pair of terry cloth baby booties, also made by Linda.





Now, a pair of warm-makers. The first is a Merino wool blanket that my friend Catherine knit. Isn't it incredible? I'm not sure how this pattern works at all, but the swirl in the middle is sort of groovy and beautiful at the same time. It's so soft and nice, too (and can be thrown in the wash!). Ben and I were stunned when we pulled it out of the package (also arrived today. What a windfall). Catherine is a hell of a knitter and has that same kind of patience my mom has. She once made this knitted robot for her husband Jay that was so funny I kind of wanted one for myself.

The second photo is of this duvet--duner, is I think how you spell that in Norwegian, but I could be wrong--cover that my friend Stine made. You remember I have two wonderful Stines in my life. In fact, I like them both so much that I have considered Stine (pronounced sort of Steena) as my Norwegian girl's name--until my mom, who had only read Stine and not heard it pronounced, referred to Stine as "Stein" and I thought, uh, no, that won't work for an American. ANYWAY, this is the Stine who is the mom of Dagny. She loves nice things, organic stuff, just like me--and she sewed us this duvet cover with animals all over it. It's so sweet. Here it is with a duvet inside. I was always sort of a European sleeper, but after a year in Norway I am fully converted to the no-top-sheet routine, and looks like our baby will be too.



Last but not least: a lovely wool sweater my mom knit, complete with hat and GIANT pompom. This sweater might fall into the category of things you dress your children in that they would be not caught dead wearing themselves, if they knew how goofy they looked.

And here, friends, is my big contribution to the baby effort. Fabric breast pads, to stop leakage. Triple-layered cotton batting for extra absorption.



What can I say? I'm pretty crafty.

Wait, try this

Picasa said the link had changed. Try this one instead.

Could people see those photos?

I had a weird paranoid moment when some woman I've never met, named simply "Kate," added my picasa album as one of her favorites, so I made my albums unpublic--but in the past, people to whom I've given the link could look at my unlisted albums anyway. A friend said she couldn't see my pics--can anyone else? Let me know if not and I'll make them public again, Kate be damned. There are some good ones.

Summ Summ Summertime

Ah, weekends in Frogner.

Norwegians are generally reckoned to be a somewhat shy and retiring sort. They aren't demonstrative and emotional like their southern European counterparts, they aren't anal retentive like the Germans and Austrians (wow, I could get in trouble here--forgive these stereotypes), and they certainly aren't proud like Americans. (Great story: my American friend Rolf, who is both a competitive runner and one of the least assuming, shy guys I know, told me that early on in Norway one of his colleagues asked him if he was a good runner. Rolf replied in his usual self-deprecating way, "Yeah, I mean, I guess I'm pretty good," to which the colleague said "Oh look at me, I'M American, I'M the best...") It was actually kind of difficult to teach Norwegians, in some ways, because none of them ever wanted to excel or stand out. Norwegians like to blend in.

Until they get a few beers in them. On Saturday nights in this city the buses and streetcars are filled with drunk 20 year-olds with multiple open containers, shouting across the train, pushing each other, laughing--the din is unbelievable. And where we live, close to city center, weekends can be brutal drunken fests of shouting and annoyance in the streets. So it was that we got home close to 1:00 last night from a really nice dinner party over in Ullern, with neighbors of Kristin and Thor, I was pleasantly surprised by how quiet my neighborhood was and fell promptly asleep, only to be awoken at 4:45 by twenty guys shouting and playing techno music in one of the apartments nearby. I mean....really? At 4:45 a.m.? I know the midnight sun has made us all a little nutty in the head, but do people really have to be so inconsiderate? Eventually I gave Ben the space he needed to put the pillow over his head and I moved out to the couch with my book, where if I closed the windows and door it wasn't quite so loud, and managed to fall back asleep a while later.

Something like this happens every weekend here in Frogner. If it isn't the guy upstairs, who at least has started to put notes up before he has a party, it's someone in my apartment building or down the street or just IN the street, and I can't help thinking as I suffer silently that there must be twenty other people also exhausted and wishing those guys would just shut up. But you don't call the cops here in Norway, is what I'm told. That would be sort of against the whole blend in, don't make waves thing, and they don't want to come anyway. (Petter told me they have much bigger problems to deal with, but last I checked there wasn't a hell of a lot of crime in Oslo, so I think they should add public disturbances to their list of things to deal with).

Grumble, grumble, grumble.

So, in other news, I'm 38+ weeks pregnant. I had this scare that I might need to be induced early due to some liver condition they thought I might have, but after repeated blood testing they just can't find any evidence of it after all (phew), so it looks like I'll be carrying this baby to term. Whenever that is. My due date is July 26, the hospital bag is packed, the baby clothes are washed and folded, I am officially resting a lot in preparation for the big event, and I'm trying to keep the house clean in case I suddenly have to go in to the hospital--but the weirdest thing is not knowing when that will be. A couple of days ago I was having a lot of Braxton-Hicks contractions and I thought, this is it, it's coming--but the past two days I've been feeling like maybe this baby wants to bake for another month. I guess we will find out.



My friend Brooke took this photo when she was here. She came for a week and was a good sport about the fact that we couldn't go very far from Oslo. It was great to see her, even if for the first half of her visit we were having a heat wave that made Oslo simply unbearable--and then a blast of cold rain for the second half that made us just want to curl up with books.

Anyway, I'll leave you with some photos of Norwegian summer. There are a bunch of them, so I linked from Picasa instead of sticking them here. Enjoy!



Love,

Susie