Siste Post

Hey blogarati.

I feel like I spent the whole blog year (a blog year being 16-18 months, in this case) apologizing for long silences, but this has possibly been the longest. Saturday was two months since we left Norway, when I promised to write soon with news and photos. Here's a quick overview of what's transpired since we left...

...we endured a sixteen-hour flight from Oslo to San Francisco, and I'm happy to report Leo was an angel

...we reacquainted with Grampa Tim, friends, tacos, and kombucha in San Francisco

...we flew up to Portland for Thanksgiving, where Leo met Uncle Jodge, Auntie Steph and Uncle P., Sean and Gretchen, Alicia and Ralph, second cousins Eva and Marie and their kids, and great aunt Milly

...we drove down to Santa Barbara, where we spent a very mellow ten days getting to know Nanna Anna and Baba Brode (that's a mouthful!), Aunts Carrie and Emma, uncles Thomas and Chris, and cousin Brody

...I flew to Boston with Leo on my own, when he was not quite as much of an angel, but overall not bad

...Ben arrived three days later

...we spent a lovely Christmas with my family

and

...we stayed, since Ben is still jobhunting and the quality of life at Casa de Pam and Bill is pretty great, plus my mom had knee surgery so we can help out a little.

Last night, I dreamed about Norway. I was driving past a coffee shop and inside sat my friend Stine Svenkerud and Norsk Extra Mom Eldri with her three grandkids. I said to whoever was driving, "Stop! There are my friends!" but we sadly drove past. I woke feeling a little desperate.

The night before, I dreamed about Norway too. I was speaking Norwegian, badly, but still.

In fact, the past week I have been thinking about Norway all the time. I really miss it. I miss...our dear little friends Agnes, Rannveig, and Inga. I know they're skiing, sledding, and building snow forts with their parents--AND, in Agnes's case, turning six! I miss drinking wine with their parents. I miss Sunday dinners with Petter and Eldri, that great lamb dish with the garlic-wine potatoes and the good conversation that accompanied it. I miss Stine and Kreg and Dagny, good talks and laughs. I miss Natasha and my mom's group, which kept me busy, and sane, at least once a week. I even miss the dark, just a little bit, especially that nice warm glowy blue that happens in the late afternoons.

It was an incredible year for all of us, and I think when I first got back here in November I sort of stuck all the memories in a box and tried not to think about them too much. But two months later, they're all coming back. I've immortalized some of the good times in two albums, one a sort of "Part Two" of Norway--where's Part One? Maybe on Facebook. Anyway, here is a link for y'all:

And here is another one.

And what have we been doing since we've been back? Gosh. Mostly, getting reacquainted. Here is Leo and some of his new friends. From top to bottom: Leo with Aunt Carrie, cousin Brody, and Nana Anna; Leo with Auntie Steph; Leo with Uncle Jodge and second or third cousins Carson and Nick; Leo's future girlfriend Ruby with her dad, Ry; Leo with Auntie Annie; Leo's other future girlfriend Maria, with her mom Lili; Leo with Grampa Brode, aka Baba; Leo with Brody and Uncle T; Leo with Aunt Emma; with Uncle Chris; and with Alison and her family, plus his dorky mom ("everyone make a funny face!" Susie does. No one else does).













More photos of the world's cutest baby can be found all over the tabloids, as well as on Facebook, most notably.

Oh, dear friends--thanks for your loyalty over this past year. I know there have oft been bigger fish to fry, and it's meant a lot to have you read. And if you're interested, I'll be starting a new blog project as soon as...

...I get Leo's sleep once and for all sorted out (we're down to two night wakings from eight)

...we get settled, or maybe before.

MVH, Kjaerlighet, og en stor klem,

Susie

Siste Dag i Norge

Hei alle sammen,

I've been wanting to spend some time on a blog entry and have just found a tiny window as Leo is sleeping. His routine is pretty screwed up since we've been so all over the place, so who knows how long this nap will last. In any event, the carry-ons are almost packed, the last of the laundry is drying in the sauna, and we say goodbye to Therese and family and Thor and Kristin and family this afternoon. Ben, characteristic Ben, is off frantically trying to return some library books and I'm scared when I see the small piles of his stuff still around...we are at six bags so far. One giant duffel, two large suitcases, and two large backpacks, plus Leo's allotted ten kilos of stuff. I have called Iceland Air to warn them that because it is a sixteen-hour journey for us with a baby and I have a variety of food allergies (so I stretched the truth a little on that one, but wheat is a biggy), they need to be a little lenient on us for the amount of carry-on baggage we're bringing. I mean, I've got ten diapers and three changes of clothes for Leo, plus one for myself (change of clothes. No diapers for me)...

ANYWAY. Boring details.

It's a gray rainy rotten Sunday, the kind of day I don't think I'll miss too much. I had a little crying jag this morning but now I feel okay. Not much else to say on that. Won't get emotional now.

When we're settled in San Francisco I'll write about our goodbye party and this last week. For now, though, ha det bra, Norge, og takk for nå.

Susie

Stratos

Sorry. But this one really cracked me up too.

Swine Flu at the Casa de Fredrik Stangs?

Hi gang,

Oy, long interlude--sorry. I've been pretty consumed with the details of leaving Norway during the past few weeks. Less than two to go before we leave--I can hardly believe it. The running joke with all our friends here is that we're leaving at the right time, the start of the mørketid. Sun sets circa 4:30, and it's fuzzy out when Leo wakes us up at 7:00. It's not Norway's finest time, though it's nice for getting all koselig with candles and loved ones...

I've been enjoying last days in Norway by taking a lot of walks up in Nørmarka with my friend Natasha and her baby Anna, which has been really fun. Up in the forest it's quite cold but the babies sleep happy as clams in their prams or, in Leo's case, on his mama's chest in the Moby. And I've enjoyed walks and lunches with my barselgruppe, my new-moms group (yet another of the amazing services socialized medicine hooks you up with--a crew of moms all on maternity leave, all of whom live within a half-mile radius of each other). We had a fun Halloween party at Thor and Kristin's, though attendance was low due to illness. What else...well, we're doing a lot of last-minute shopping for Norwegian wool and gifts for folks at home and I've actually packed one suitcase!

It's been an eventful week as Ben and Leo got sick simultaneously, with seemingly different illnesses. Tuesday night Ben got THE FLU. Was it THE FLU or just the flu? Who knows--he was achy-headed, nauseated, felt really blech, etc. We've medicated him only with Tylenol, oscillococcinum, and fluids, despite a brief period yesterday when he was demanding Tamiflu and I was encouraging him to hold out (I haven't been convinced he has the flu of swines, but what do I know?). Anyway, the main concern has been keeping Ben away from Leo, who woke me up Tuesday night with mucusy chortlings and choking sounds and sneezes. Leo has had a very slight fever--37.6 C at its highest (99.6 F), so I had the unhappy task of taking his rectal temperature at the first feeding last night, circa 11:30. He SCREAMED. Generally Leo is a pretty good-natured kid, but when you attempt to mess with his nether regions (i.e., a diaper change or related) when he's hungry, he gets furious. On the other hand, if you feed him first and then change him in the middle of the night, he gets wide awake and lies there in the crib saying "Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!" and then it takes ages to get him to shut up and go to sleep. So, I opted for the screaming, redeemed by a nice long nursing session.

This morning, Ben claims to be almost all better, and Leo's fever is fluctuating but still just vaguely high, and he's being mellow on the couch (snoring, actually). Parenthood seems very weighty when your kid is sick. The urgent care place told me to just watch him and if the temperature went to 38 (100.4), to bring him in. But of course I have to watch his mood, too, make sure he's feisty and hungry and etc. Because Ben is not allowed to touch him, I'm the mom in charge. It's good for me, but scary.

Okay. On a lighter note, this Norwegian tv commercial is really cracking me up. The punchline, "melk styrker kroppen," is basically the Norwegian take on "milk: it does a body good" ("milk makes the body stronger"). Enjoy.

And here is a picture of Leo. It's from when he was about three weeks old. I look at it and feel amazed by how much he's grown.



Peace out, brothas and sistahs.

Bittersweet Birthday

Well, I'm 36 today. And in case that wasn't enough to depress hell out of me, it's a rainy cold gray day. And Ben and I just bought our plane tickets to leave Norway. We fly to San Francisco on November 16. There is a slight chance we'd come back after a long visit, but I doubt it. So the plan for now is to visit visit visit--with our family in San Francisco and Santa Barbara, with our family in New England, and with friends all over, including up in Portland, before settling....where? Wherever Ben gets a job. I'm so excited to see everyone--and part of me is deeply sad at the thought of leaving Norway. I don't know whether lack of sleep is making me emotional, but I feel very torn and kind of gray today.

I'm going to put on some music and clean the heck out of the house. Maybe make myself feel better. Ben took Leo for a bit. On the roster for the weekend is lunch with Kristin and Thor, Therese and Thomas, and Ian tomorrow--and bowling this afternoon (Ben's idea, of course).

Happy birthday to me.

Love,

Susie

Hi

hi gang,

doing a lot of one-handed typing these days, as my main computer time is when leo is on my lap doing something like nursing or snoozing. so forgive my lack of caps.

sunday morning, ben and i are half-listening to a podcast of "fresh air," and leo is waking up on my lap. okay, now leo is shrieking, a rare occurrence of late. i think maybe eating half a head of romanesco (like fancy broccoli) last night might not have been the most brilliant idea. ben is walking him around as he arches his back in pain. poor little guy.

[Interlude. I feed Leo some fennel tea. He pukes on the floor. Ben takes over, rocks him underneath the stove fan, Leo's favorite noise. Susie cleans the house frantically while she has two hands free.]

And now Leo is on Ben's lap, and I have capital letters again. Life as a mom continues. Oslo is spectacular these days: crisp, sunny, breezy, and all the sorts of things that happen in summer somewhere else happen in September here: the nighttime candle-lit walk along the Akerselva (the river that runs through East Oslo), the two-day farmers' market extravaganza on Karl Johans Gate. It's great to have diversions and things to do when you have a new baby and your husband is simultaneously writing a Masters thesis and looking for a job.

I have up and down days. I'll admit the lack of independence can get to someone as happy about her free time as I am. But Leo is steadily becoming more joyful to be around. I feel like we just had a couple breakthroughs that have made my life feel more complete and a little less chaotic. One, he seems to need to eat a little less frequently, or maybe I have figured out that he wasn't really eating the whole time he was camped out on my boobs for 45-minute long sessions that took place every 90 minutes (let's just say, Leo is a breast man at the tender age of eight weeks). And, and I almost hesitate to write this lest I jinx it, he seems to have become a better sleeper in the past five days, napping more consistently and, better yet, falling asleep on his own (i.e. without a parent rocking him to sleep, which we had to do every time before now). The funny thing is I would have just kept on rocking him, assuming he wouldn't fall asleep on his own, had Ben not unceremoniously dumped Leo in his basinet one night because his back was hurting and he was sick of standing up with him in his arms—only for us to find three hours later that Leo had fallen fast asleep and stayed that way. Oh joyous day. He compensates grudgingly for this move of independence by wanting to be carried a lot during the day and taking at least one nap cradled in my arms. To be honest, I don't mind one bit. It is, to use the Norwegian word, one of the most koselig things I can imagine, having a little warm cute guy all snuggled up in the crook of your arm. These days don't last forever, so the experts tell me.

And he's smiling; looking at books with pictures of dots and circles and things. I'm singing to him and reading him poetry. He tends to start crying when I read the poetry. He smiles when I sing.

Not much else to report. Today is a little gray and we're going to go for a walk in the city, maybe get a coffee, stroll around. My thoughts are starting to turn to home and so are Ben's, though there are days I don't want to leave Norway at all. Part of this is practical—the medical care is incredible here. Seriously. Any of you, or your relatives, who wants to hear about my experience with socialized medicine, I am happy to share. And I have made some really good friends, and of course the thought of leaving the Steen and Brook Steen families makes my heart break. But I really miss my family...Ben's family...tacos...

Here are a couple of recent pics.

Leo with grampa Tim, who visited a couple weeks ago:



Leo with Auntie Jorin, who surprised us, armed with raw goodies and John Lennon onesies and fancy Italian leather baby shoes:



And Leo and me in the Vigelands Park. In case you were wondering, yes, the gorgeous thick hair I had for nine months is falling out in clumps. Fleeting pregnancy hormones, ya bastards.




Cheers,

Susie

Back!

Hiya--well, Leo is seven weeks old tomorrow and I thought I'd at least make an effort to start writing my blog again. It is exceedingly difficult to get things done with a newborn! Leo...



Well, Leo is a pretty amazing little guy. Ben and I are loosely practicing something called attachment parenting, which as I interpret it means giving your kid a lot of love by responding to him when he needs something/cries. There are other factors, like carrying the baby close (in a baby sling, for example), (breast)feeding on cue rather than on schedule, etc., but the responding thing is really the main idea. The whole stick-your-kid-in-the-crib-and-let-them-cry thing doesn't play. Frankly, I don't imagine it would work for most babies or parents anyway, theory be damned--unless you have a huge house and could lock your kid in a room where you can't hear him crying, when the kid starts to shriek, it does something to you psychologically and you want him to stop. IMMEDIATELY.

Why am I telling you this? I guess just to impress upon you the amount of work involved in parenting a newborn when you don't believe in letting him screech for hours. And I think Leo is a little bit of a higher need baby anyway, but maybe not. Let's just say, there have been weeks when we were not able to put Leo down. EVER. We might get an hour or two of unattached sleep a night, but otherwise we were holding him, rocking him, or carrying him in a baby sling 24 hours a day. Wow, exhausting. And sometimes even when we're doing everything right, he just fights us--fights off sleep, fights while nursing, fights while getting changed.

But, friends, I think all this holding and loving is paying off. Kristin (aka Tante K) told me that the first six weeks are chaos and after that you have some semblance of normalcy, and I think she might have been right. At least, I all of a sudden have a very sweet, smiley, happy baby who will even hang out by himself in his crib occasionally while his mom does the dishes. Does he still lose his mind occasionally? Of course. But we're coping.

So it goes in Oslo. More soon.

Susie

Leo Andreas Eichenberg

...was born on Tuesday, July 28, at 6:14 p.m. Oslo time. He weighed 3.2 kilos and was 51 cm long.

Here he is yawning (or trying to make out with Sophie La Giraffe, a present from our friend Deepak--we're not sure which).



Love,

Susie

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

The Midnight Oil

Hi friends,

Had a minute and thought I'd write. Days have a new rhythm now, since school is about to end and my commitments for this week included: going in on Monday for three hours. Oh, and I guess I had to do some emailing with students as well. Next week, commitments include Tuesday tidying-up day, Wednesday getting ready for the Somerfest (summer party), then the Somerfest. I think there's an assembly on Friday.

Rough life...

I'm using my vast amounts of free time to socialize, clean our place, panic about motherhood in six-seven weeks, get my computer working again, and write. I am working on a revision of my memoir, which is a story about Ben and me and our year-long travels that we took in 2004-2005. My plan was to finish the book and approach an agent about it before the kid arrived. My friend Simone read it recently and wrote me eight pages of comments that were extremely helpful and of course also a little depressing. I think every writer secretly wants to hear that the work is perfect as is, and of course, like a true friend and critic, Simone did not say that. Writing a memoir is intensely personal, too, and so when someone comments on it and makes suggestions about where it should go it's also hard not to do some serious soul-searching--in a sense, the feedback becomes about more than the work, it's also about YOU. So, anyway, I dealt with that in one afternoon of some crying and thinking, got back to work, wrote for about a week and really felt like I was making headway--then witnessed the crash of my hard drive and lost the whole thing (not the whole thing whole thing--just that week of work). Then I entered into a three-week long saga with Apple about the OS X disks I needed to get my computer up and running again (these could be found in a box in a storage space in Burlingame, California, or from the Apple store for a mere 900 kroner). Finally, after a lot of cajoling on my part, Apple sent me new disks and I am now able to work again. So, this was a set back. A stressful one. So it is really good that life has calmed down a bit, and I am trying to just chip away at the project an hour or two every day, revising, revising...in hopes that just maybe I will be happy with it by the time D Day arrives and life as I know it changes forever. Duh duh DUH!

I keep thinking of my friend Rose, whose baby was due the day she had to take her medical boards. Lola stayed in the womb until the day after. Good kid. I want one like that.

Kidding aside, I am very excited for the baby to arrive (not prematurely). S/he is growing by leaps and bounds. I know this because I have a foot lodged in my rib cage at all times and a head somewhere near my pelvis (I hope). The baby is definitely lying on my right side, so pronounced that my belly sticks out more on that side. Ben and I took a LaMaze class last weekend. It was really cool. The teacher, Judith, showed us all these posters of what happens in your body when you're pregnant. It's incredible--all your internal organs just move out of the way. Your stomach gets sort of tucked up near your chin; your intestine wraps around it. Then we learned how to breathe. The whole deal with LaMaze, and with another method of birthing advocated by this lady named Penny Simkin, who wrote The Birth Partner (Judith likes her, too) is that the dad/partner is essential to the whole thing. He/she counts and times the contractions, helps you remember your breathing, brings you water in between, etc. It's pretty cool. I have already warned Ben that at some point I might say something to the effect of "get your fucking hands off me, I'm in pain" and he has told me that anything I say in the labor room he will never hold against me. He was actually the one who brought this up, which I thought was a good sign. So.

Last night, I had Stine #1 and Kristin for dinner. We were supposed to have a kind of baby/birthing ceremony dinner with my friend Steph last night. Steph lives in Portland, Oregon and was coming for three weeks with her partner Peter. They are some of my oldest and dearest friends--they're more like my family than my friends, really. Anyway, they were supposed to arrive this week. But, and this is so tragic, a good friend of Steph's is dying of a rare and horrible form of uterine cancer, so they are in Seattle instead, saying goodbye and helping out. Lovely Stine suggested that we meet anyway, so in honor of Steph I made her and my kind of food: what I think of as gourmet hippy food. You see, typically in Norway a dinner party involves a lot of meat or fish, delicious, but heavy--and so I like to cook more West-coast style freshness when people come over. If I might say so myself, we had a really simple and delicious meal:

An onion tart
A quinoa salad
Fresh tomatoes with basil and olive oil.

The onion tart was a success, though up until the last minute I was afraid it wouldn't be. I can't claim much credit for the recipe; I found a rough sketch here, but I didn't have buckwheat flour so I used quinoa flour, and I didn't have parmesan so I left that out. I also didn't want to make mini tarts so I smushed all the dough into one big springform pan. For the topping, I caramelized the onions with some fresh rosemary (growing on our deck--thanks Benj), then folded them into the ricotta egg yolk mixture. Added a little cream, a squeeze of lemon. Baked about thirty minutes. Delicious. Like a savory cheesecake.

The quinoa salad was my old standby, also one I suppose I can't claim credit for since it started as a recipe in Vegetarian Planet, which is a great cookbook if anyone is interested. Quinoa, chopped arugula, chopped red onion, balsamic vinegar, olive oil, generous salt and pepper, feta cheese, and some toasted nuts (I used pine; walnuts are tasty too) at the end.

Lovely. It was a nice night. We talked a lot about having kids and being married and all sorts of other topics domestic and not. I really enjoyed myself.

So, not much else to write. Oslo is light until 11:30 p.m. or so these days. Not true midnight sun, but kind of midnight glow. And very hard to get to bed at a decent hour. Unfortunately it's been gray for a while now. Today it is downright raining, but most days it has been overcast at least. It's reminding me of the gloomy June of the Pacific Northwest. I'm ready for some hot and dry!

Hope this finds you all well.

Susie

Tabouli for Forty

Heisan.

I am so sorry it has been such a long time since I've written. When my mom was here week before last she said, "you haven't written since April 18!" and I realized I was about to lose my most loyal fan and then, undoubtedly, my entire fan base. Come back, readers. I have all kinds of plausible excuses for my absence...

The best one is that my computer died a couple of weeks ago and I have been in a funk about it and using this old Dell of Ben's while mine has been in the shop. So blogging has not been my first priority.

But. A nice spring afternoon in Oslo, threatening to rain. We are at about eighteen hours of daylight these days. The sky starts to get pink at 3:00 a.m. or so (I'm told), and by 4:00 or 4:30 it's pretty light. Last night at midnight the sky was still glowing on the horizon, though it had been dark by most standards since around 10:30. This is the so-called Nordic light. It's like the sky never fully darkens in the summer and it is gorgeous, luminous, glowy. It's been a rainy spring but it's always a sort of gentle rain, good for making things green.

We have been up to all kinds of things. My parents came, and we took a three day extravaganza tour of Westlandet, Bergen and some of the fjords around it as well as one day in Hardanger, which was exquisite. If you're interested in seeing the trip, you can go to Picasa and look at Ben's photos. It was a really nice visit, lots of laughs, some fun times, and a whole lot of baby-inspired excitement. After my parents left it was Syttende Mai, Norway's national day, when the whole country goes Nordic and parties. Bundader (national costumes), traditional herring breakfasts, a big parade, barbecues in the park. Ben and I marched in the parade with my school. Some pics ahead. First, me looking very pregnant and water-retaining with two of my fabulous students, Astrid on the left and Helene on the right, both in national costumes. Then, looking down Karl Johan's Gate towards the castle (the king and his family are there waving to us, you just can't see them yet). Stine Pernille, my colleague and friend, in the background. Finally, random marching band.


































So that was fun. And this weekend, another set of festivities. We christened little Inga! Yesterday there was a big party for her at Petter and Eldri's. She of course had no idea why everyone was smiling at her and showering her with gifts, but the grownups enjoyed themselves (maybe too much? I have never seen so many empty wine bottles and overflowing ashtrays). But first there was the meal, a sort of Mediterranean/Greek themed do. We were enlisted to make green salad and tabouli...for forty people. I optimistically thought this would be a fairly easy job. Oh man, what a production. Tabouli for forty requires roughly...

2 large bags of bulgar, soaked
7 large bunches of parsley, chopped
5 large bunches of mint, chopped
1 large bag of shallots, chopped
1 bunch of green onions, chopped
half an onion, chopped
about 2-3 cups of olive oil
the juice from TWENTY FOUR lemons
about 3T of cinnamon
lots of salt and pepper
...and a kilo of tomatoes, chopped.

My recommendation to you: next time you make tabouli for forty people, make sure you have a decent kitchen knife and no predisposition for carpal tunnel syndrome. We couldn't fit the tabouli into bowls, so old Benj went and scrubbed out the recycling bin for us. Witness, tabouli for 40, salad for 40, ready to go. We should be caterers, I think.



























Proud papa, grilling chicken.

And the guest of honor today at the church, being held by her favorite Godfather.



It was a lot of fun, from chopping madly to being given a contract for how I'm supposed to behave as a Godparent: "pray with the child. Send her gifts on her christening day. Take her to church with you and light a candle. Give her bible stories..." Ben and I were the admittedly more secular Godparents, so we'll probably send money when she graduates from high school and send her lots of good vibes and letters over the years.

I think that's all to report...school continues to go well, and baby preparations are at least partially underway. I am quite pregnant, as you can see. The little one is moving around a lot and it's fun to imagine what he/she will be like. I cannot believe it is a mere two months until this baby arrives. Some days the thought panics me terribly. Other days I can't wait. Well, that's a lie: other days I think I will be ready when it's time, which is the best I think I can do!














Store klem fra

Susie

Spring at last

I have a cold. I seem to be especially prone to colds when the seasons change. Perhaps this is because of the winds of invasion (look it up!). In any event, this cold has been insidious because it took about four days to materialize after the telltale scratchy throat, etc. and the beginning signs were so minor I thought it just wasn't going to come at all. Next thing I know: snot central. Iyiyiy. Normally when I think I'm getting a cold I take all manner of schtuff like micostat mushroom wonder tincture and loads of vitamin C and some other herbal goodness that knocks it down. But when you're pregnant you have to be pretty strict about not taking things like that, lest the lille pille gets defective, so I have to just watch my colds come and go. I wish this one would go. I feel like a mucus factory.

Sorry for sharing.

Gorgeous day here. The sun is now up at 5:00 a.m. or so and the mørketid, the so-called "dark time," is a distant and painful memory. We live in an incredibly sunny apartment, it turns out, which is lovely because the sunlight pours in all day (and not so lovely when it wakes us up at 5:00...). There is still some snow on the ground, that kind of snow I remember from childhoods in Boston: piles and piles of it that won't really melt until May even though the sun is out most days. Where I live, close to Oslo center, it's pretty bare by now, but up at Berg the schoolyard still has big ugly drifts.

Last week was sort of the passage between winter and spring: Påske. Påske means Easter, and the Norwegians take Easter seriously. It isn't actually a religious holiday here; it's the last ski vacation of the season, and everyone takes a full 10 days off: the whole week before Easter, plus the Monday after Easter Sunday. This means you can get a full day of skiing in on Easter Sunday before you go home and get settled on Monday. The world is sort of functional until about the Wednesday before, but most things shut down for good Thursday through Monday. More evidence of the advanced state of civilization in this country. The Norwegians know how to take a vacation.

We had a lovely Påskeferie, and I have a slideshow to prove it. First of all, Ben and I splurged on a little getaway. I have been making decent money for a few months now, and I wanted to spend a little before we have a baby and no time to get away together. What I really wanted to do was spend a week on the beach in Mexico, but since that was totally unrealistic we went to Stockholm for four days instead, stayed in a medium-swanky hotel with a sea theme, an ice bar (my idea of hell: socializing in -5 Celsius), and a gorgeous breakfast spread every day (if only I had someone in my apartment, making me eggs three-ways, bacon, fruit, müsli, yogurt, coffee, tea, toast...), and just hung out. Loved Stockholm. No offense to quaint Oslo, but Stockholm is a real city. Great museums, great parks, stunning architecture, cool people, fashion, neat stores, good food. We took it at a fairly leisurely pace, ate a lot of street food, enjoyed the wateriness of the city. Stockholm is built on 14 islands, so it has a really interesting footprint and you're constantly crossing bridges. Some are so short you barely notice; others take 20 minutes and you're looking down on the Baltic from a great height. You'll see from the pics that there's a preponderance of boats, and the city definitely feels like it revolves around the sea. Nice.

We came back Wednesday, did our taxes, saw the midwife (baby's heartbeat sounds good; he/she is moving like mad these days. I'm a little on the small side, but they think that's normal). Then Thursday bright and early Ben and I went to the train station and met Petter and Eldri, who took us to a little place called Kongsvoll, to the Kongsvold Fjellstue, near Dovre, about four hours northwest of Oslo. I can't find a great map, but here's an interactive one that lets you get pretty close: we were nearest to Oppdal.

This is a place that Petter has been going to since he was a kid, with his mom, and he has since taken his own family every year. This year, we were the family! It was a really special and cool place, an historic hotel made up of about ten red wooden buildings. We skied and rested and ate wayyy too much rich food and watched murder mysteries every night--another Norwegian Påske tradition. The snow was called rotten snø, which translates pretty cleanly to "rotten snow," meaning it's thin and mushy and you fall through very easily. Petter and Eldri took me on two easier days of skiing, and they took Ben on two more difficult ones. I was disappointed not to get to the top of the ridge behind the hotel, but I'm glad I didn't go because apparently it was pretty treacherous and I'm not a great skier and you know, baby and all. Ben actually crashed on his face and got a little banged up.

Lovely week. Hard to come back to real life, especially real life with a head cold, but the teaching schedule is seeming a little more manageable and since it's become spring Oslo feels like an entirely different place to me. In the middle of winter I sometimes felt as though I was living at the edge of the world, light years away from everyone. I felt so isolated and dark. Now I feel like Norway isn't half as far as it was; it's just up here, little ways North...

I will stop prattling on. Here is the slideshow. Bonus belly shots at the beginning. Enjoy!

Still alive in Oslo!

Hi blog fans,

I'm so sorry for this long lapse. The simple answer is I've been working like a dog and have had very little time for writing of any kind--let alone any of the other commitments I made (like to finish War and Peace sometime this century, do my taxes, you know). So let me catch everyone up...

Well, spring is sort of kind of here; two days before Daylight Savings (later here than there, just happened on Sunday), we got another foot of snow. But then it stopped snowing and settled in big drifts in the mountains, where Ben and I went for the weekend, and with twelve-hour days it really was quite magical. The snow in Oslo is still piled up in ugly brown blobs but the birds seem to be back (some beautiful gull or other was all over in the Vigelands Park today....migrating through, or back for the summer?). The sky is temperamental but clear a lot of mornings. Early morning light has been a real uplift.

So, right, life has been busy. I am still teaching two English classes at BVS, and I also started my gig as an after-school English teacher for a group of minority Norwegian high schoolers out in Lørenskog, a town about 30 minutes from Oslo by train. That's two afternoons a week. Finally, I'm teaching an adult ed course called "Administrative English" on Thursday mornings at the University. My last official commitment is my online writing class. I think if I were teaching 5 courses at one place, it might not feel so overwhelming, but the planning, grading, and keeping tracking of sooo many students, with such different needs, leaves me exhausted most evenings. Luckily, I think the worst of it is over--I had a moment last week when I felt like my brain was a sieve and I couldn't even fathom the concept of groceries, let alone taxes or verb tenses. But next week is Easter Break, and then due to various factors life should get steadily less chaotic over the next six weeks or so, then taper down further until I have just my two classes at Berg for most of May and all of June, and then I go on maternity leave around the beginning of July...

All of which to say, this past weekend in the mountains was totally necessary and completely renewing. Ben and I drove up after school on Friday, finally getting out of town around 6:00 with all our stuff in backpacks in the trunk of Petter and Eldri's car. We arrived up at the parking lot to Thor and Kristin's hytte around 9:00 after a minor detour down the wrong road, strapped on the packs and the skis, and found ourselves ensconced in a dark moonless Norwegian night. Luckily Ben guessed approximately where to turn right off the un-groomed trail and we stumbled upon the cabin in the dark, me feeling pretty hard core to have trussed up the hill in a pack, on skis, at 5 and a half months pregnant. (Very Norwegian, too.) It was so nice and quiet and student-less up there...we basically ate and slept and skied and read until Sunday morning when we very sadly had to return to Oslo.




Man, I do have to say this country is stunning sometimes. Nice too to capture the hytte here for you all.

Speaking of photos, people have requested a belly shot of me. Later, when I can finagle my way onto Ben's laptop, I will attempt to post one (as well as a beautiful shot of the sliver moon that came up our second night i fjellen). The truth is, though, that I am not showing very drastically at all yet. That doesn't mean I'm not feeling lots of pregnancy symptoms. I have a small rodent crawling around in my belly, for one thing...he/she wiggles, kicks, punches, rolls, and does lord knows what. In order to make space for this movement, my uterus is pushing up my lungs and rib cage and internal organs...and I am feeling it. I have on multiple occasions been in absolute agony with pain in the right ribs, front and back. It feels like a little man with a hammer and a long nail is slowly pounding it into my ribs. Then, weirdly, it passes. Today I saw the physical therapist for the first time and I have a massage on Thursday. Also doing my yoga video when I can find the time. And sleeping with an arsenal of pillows. Adjusting, adjusting.

Making dinner so I will stop...much love to everyone. Glad people liked the recipes and photos. On tonight's table, my old standby: red lentil dal with coconut milk and garam masala over rice. Might sound difficult, but actually it's a 20-minute meal. Shoot ya the recipe if you're interested.

Klem,

Susie

More Delicious Breakfast

Just a quick one. These days I am totally mad for food, and mad for cooking, and I just regaled Ben with another gorgeous breakfast (if I do say so myself. Not very Norwegian to brag, but then, I am only an ex-pat here).

Susie and Ben's Vaguely Cuban-Inspired Saturday Breakfast at Home

Polenta (see below)
about 1/2 cup parmesan cheese
Four eggs, preferably organic
One ripe avocado
2 cups fresh spinach, washed
1 can black beans (or 1-2 cups cooked beans, if you're industrious like that)

1. Make polenta how you like. I am a fan of a 1-3 ratio of grains to water, and I actually dilute the polenta with quinoa for added nutrition and texture (thanks to Didi Emmons and the cookbook Vegetarian Planet for this tip). So: boil about three cups generously salted water, then add 1/3 cup quinoa and, after a couple of minutes, 2/3 cup coarse cornmeal. Stir madly and let cook, being careful not to get splattered. Here in Norway I can only get "instant" polenta, the upside being it's ready in only 5-8 minutes or so (and that's why I stagger the quinoa...with real polenta you can throw it all in together). When your polenta has thickened deliciously, stir in 1/2 cup parmesan and let cool on your snowy balcony.

2. Slice avocado and arrange fetchingly on two plates.

3. Form polenta into patties and fry on each side until brown and crispy. They will most likely fall apart a little, but you can deal.

4.In a saucepan, heat black beans with a little seasoning. I added a few splashes of Tabasco.

5. Arrange fried polenta cakes on your plates.

6. Fry four eggs how you like them. At the last minute, or if there's space in your pan, throw your wet spinach in and let it steam in its own juice.

7. Place eggs on top of polenta cakes, arrange black beans and spinach on the plate. Serve with hot sauce.

NOTE: For added flavor, I bet this would be delicious if you took the time to make a little avocado salad with lime juice, a tiny bit of garlic, some cumin, tomato, and cilantro, seasoned with salt and pepper (and if it's too tart, with the tiniest splash of maple syrup).



Breakfast in the Making.



The video.



The Final Product.

Snow

Hello Comrades,

It was pointed out to me that I was waaaay premature in posting that gorgeous photo of the Oslo harbor in clear weather (which, by the way, was not some cheesy photo I snatched from the Web but one my brother took when he was visiting. Not bad for a hack). I felt like I needed to herald spring in some way, have something to look forward to. But now I have officially given up, and resorted to a picture that accurately depicts Oslo in February. Yes, we have daylight until 5 p.m. these days (hooray!) but spring is a long, long way away. In fact, in hasn't stopped snowing for weeks. We had about a foot on the ground in January, and then on a Saturday a couple of weeks ago the skies dumped a meter on us and Oslo, city that claims it never shuts down for snow, was plagued with T bane- and trikk-stoppages and delays and total chaos. They dealt with that, and since then it's just been dumping on us every few days. Yesterday the flakes were so close together it was hard to walk in them. Wasted time putting on eye makeup for my lunchdate with Stine, because it had all washed off by the time I got to my haunt Litteraturhuset. Here's the view from our balcony, yesterday:



Not sure it does the day justice, but trust me when I tell you it was a wall of snow. I took the camera to the Vigelands Park, where I captured a bunch of kids skiing:



...and the poor ducks...

and the Atlas-like guys holding up a big bowl of snow.




So I've had the week off from BVS, and during the week I was informed that Natasha, the teacher I'm covering for, is officially not coming back this year. So I am now more secure in my job, which probably means more responsibility but also more leeway. I'm pleased, of course, and maybe a little apprehensive. I like teaching there, and frankly, for a high school gig I don't think it's too taxing. Norway is sort of uber-civilized about work; a full-time work week is 35 hours, and in a book I'm reading about Norway right now called In Cod We Trust, the author relates a funny anecdote of speaking with a Norwegian about his work. The Norwegian says something to the effect of, "We used to have to work 40 hours a week, but then the government changed it. Thank God! I mean, you don't have any time to see your family when you work that much!" So, at 65% time, I am actually in the classroom only six hours a week, nine hours every fifth week or so. The planning time adds a fair amount to that, but it's doable, definitely doable. At the same time, the communication at the school is really shoddy. Stine keeps me aware of what's going on, but my supervisors never do. Important meeting Monday, apparently, and no one has told me whether or not to attend.

At the risk of incurring the wrath of my mother-in-law Ann Brode, who is worried both Ben and I are doing too much when I'm pregnant, I am actually taking another teaching job. My class at Folkeuniversitet fell through due to low enrollment (phew--I didn't feel like teaching it anyway), and as it happens a woman named Hilary who works for the State Department asked me to help her out with what I think is kind of a cool project. At the risk (lots of risks in this paragraph, hmm) of boring you to tears, here's the deal: Hilary was in conversation with the director of Youth for Understanding, a foreign exchange program. He mentioned that while lots of minority kids in Norway (typically minority kids means immigrant kids) are applying for YFU programs, most of them don't get accepted because their English isn't good enough. So Hilary wants someone to work with a small group of minority high schoolers twice a week, helping them to improve their language skills and indoctrinating them--er, teaching them--about American culture, etc., in hopes that they'll have a better acceptance rate to programs like YFU and AFS. Now, this work is close to my heart. One thing that has been fascinating and difficult about being at a Norwegian high school is looking at the phenomenon of racial mixing and how Norway is dealing with immigration. I don't kid myself that the U.S. is some bastion of racial equity, but Norway is still quite behind. My dark-skinned burka-wearing girls definitely want to work together in my class; my blonde Norwegians do too. I spend a lot of time putting them in groups together. And, as another Fulbrighter who travels around to different schools pointed out to me, she has yet to see a teacher of color in any of the Norwegian schools. The reality is that the face of Norway is really changing--Oslo is, I think, now 25% immigrant, while Norway on the whole is 10% up from 9% last year--and it will soon be the case that "Norwegians" are not all blonde tall Nordics. So. Looking forward to this work, and to developing excellent time management skills as I juggle 5 classes this spring.

What else...well, this week "off" has been packed of course, but it's been a nice week. My dear and insightful friend Katie Williams read my memoir, which is still in the draft stage, and sent it back to me with really helpful comments and suggestions. The best one of all being that she doesn't think it's too far from ready to send to an agent. So I've spent much of this week revising, reshuffling, and preparing the book to go to another reader, Simone, my friend who's living in Mexico these days. I think Simone will be a great second reader. For one thing, she travels a lot. AND she speaks Spanish. So she can correct my mistakes. And third of all she's a great writer.

This vacation week was kicked off by an excellent ski weekend up near Lillehammer. Fulbright paid for everyone and their families to go to a place called Skeikampen for a weekend of skiing, hanging out, and eating too much Norwegian buffet food (all manner of fish, as well as lots of cheese, fruit, salad, and things like ox meatballs). It was wonderful to get away, and I had two of the best cross-country ski days of my life. I am definitely improving. I'm still not very efficient or very graceful or even very fast, but for the first time in my life I can effectively snow plow down a hill without wiping out, and attack a lesser hill with gusto. This may sound like a small victory to you seasoned skiers, but trust me--to me, it's a big deal. Besides, the trails near Skeikampen were just lovely. Here are some pics.





The woman in red is LaReesa, another Fulbrighter who's great, and the woman in the foreground is the aforementioned Hilary from the State Department. Yep, skiing with the boss before she's your boss.

I assume you're all dying to know how pregnancy is going. It's going well. The morning sickness is really and truly over, and my only complaints now are bad digestion and this quasi-painful stretching sensation in the lower abdomen that comes and goes. It feels to me like some days the kid is just hanging out--and then all of a sudden he/she starts to grow like mad for a day or two. When this happens, my appetite is pretty out of control. I feel like I need to pack myself with calories, protein; yesterday I ate two eggs for breakfast with gluten-free toast and a banana and then before I went to meet Stine I had two more pieces of toast and some juice and then I ate a big plate of salmon and sour cream and pickled beets (v. Norwegian) with a big salad and then I came home and, well, this is embarrassing--I drank a big glass of coconut milk. Then I ate some chocolate. We had sushi at Thor's last night, and I must have had at least three rolls' worth, and then when we got home I decided I needed a bowl of rice and vegetables and some tahini and then before bed I had four more pieces of toast. Ben really got a kick out of this "monologue" I shared with him last night circa 11:00: "Benj, he's like really stretching in there. Stretching and demanding more toast!" Then: "But if I eat this toast I won't have anything left for breakfast!" (Last slices in the pack. I ate the toast. The kid was sated until this morning, when I made us an epic breakfast.)

I will end with the recipe for said breakfast; I love blogs that have recipes in them!

Susie and Ben's High-Cholesterol But Delicious Last-Day of Vacation Breakfast
2 cups spinach
Leftover mashed potatoes, preferably well-seasoned ones with green onions in them
Four eggs (preferably organic)
Hollandaise sauce (from a package if you have it on hand, from scratch if you're fancy)
generous oil

Make hollandaise.
Rinse spinach and steam it in its water for a couple of minutes until wilted. Set aside.
Form potatoes into four patties, season as needed, and fry them on both sides until golden-brown and crispy and perfect. Put two on each plate.
Quickly fry the eggs how you like them.
Layer steamed spinach on top of potato patties, lay a fried egg on each, and top with hollandaise. Serve with tabasco, tea, juice, and, if you want to add insult to injury, slices of avocado.

Voila! What can I say, I'm expected to gain four pounds a month in this second trimester. I'd hate to disappoint.

Love to you all, and thanks for hanging through what is kind of a long blog entry,

Susie

Sidewalks

Hey friends,

I've been dragging my feet about writing here for some reason. Life has gotten pretty busy for Ben and me in the past few weeks. My new job at Berg Vidergaende Skole (henceforth BVS) has been consuming a fair amount of my time and energy, despite the fact that I only teach two days a week. Factor in class planning, weekly meetings, subbing (the school is totally desperate for subs; there seems to be no system in place, when a teacher is sick, besides casting about madly for someone to fill in a class at last minute), parent-teacher nights (that was interesting. I just prayed I remembered all my students' names, and luckily, did), grading, etc., and I was there four days out of five last week and nearly went back yesterday before I came to my senses.

Ben's been busy, too. Classes started again and he's taking five at last count (but maybe dropping one), plus of course beginning to work on his thesis. Then you add in the time he spends playing Ultimate frisbee (two nights a week, plus a tournament this weekend), plus school trips (he went to the Hague last week), and we have been like those proverbial ships passing in the night, me off to yoga and chorus and school, him rushing to Norwegian class. We did get to spend one morning last week cross-country skiing with Ben's friend Juliana, who's Brazilian. It was a beautiful, clear morning.

But explain to me how someone who'd never seen snow before she came to Norway could be a better skier than I am? It's pathetic. And actually, I have improved a little. I seemed to get the concept of snowplowing down better, thanks in part to a Norwegian woman who watched me pause at the top of a big hill and said, you can do this. Make a really pronounced V with your feet, bend your knees, and dig in the edges of your skis. I think before I'd never really understood how much you have to wedge your skis in order to get control on the slope. I wedged until I felt like my hips were separating. And it worked. So I did a pretty good job of getting down a bunch of big hills at a snail's pace, which cracked up the Norwegians around me, and I only fell when, later in the morning, when the slopes were more crowded, I approached a giant hill and decided to step out of the tracks in order to snow plow. The whole change-over was a disaster, and I crashed out, taking Juliana with me, causing an old man to stop and worry about us, and then the rest of the morning was just a little ruined because after I fall, I get fearful. By the way, calling the cross country ski trails here "slopes" isn't too lofty--sure, compared to alpine slopes they're nothing, but this is pretty rolling terrain. None of those New England ski-flat-by-the-railroad-tracks days here in Norway.

I'm ready for spring. It's pathetic. I wish someone had taken me out on skis before I was 21. When Ben and I have a kid, I want to make sure we take him or her out skiing early and often, because I really do think everyone should have the feel for walking in snow and not be fearful of getting hurt.

Speaking of which...I'm pregnant. Fourteen weeks pregnant. PREGNANT! It has been an interesting road so far, and both of us are terribly excited about it. I felt like crap, I mean really crappy, for all of December and about half of January. I think I will remember Christmas this year as the year I struggled not to puke when the feast of pork came out. Morning sickness for me was all day sickness, and though I never actually threw up (a blessing; I hate throwing up), I was nauseated kind of all the time. I felt generally like I had a low-grade flu with all the accompanying symptoms of exhaustion, malaise, fragility, dizziness. About a week ago I stopped feeling so sick, and the timing is good, because I don't have a lot of time for it right now. Who knows, maybe that's part of why I feel better--because I have to feel better. I had an ultrasound a couple weeks ago. It is so bizarre that there's a tiny little human-shaped fish inside me, waving his/her arms around, kicking his/her legs. It was so magical.

I'm sorry to say that I don't have anything else to report, and no photos to post. Life in Oslo has been characterized by a lot of subtlety lately, as I come to the point in our year when I start to really--how to put this--well, when I start to really feel like a part of this place, or at least, to feel like more than just an observer. Teaching in a public high school has been enlightening in that regard; yes, Norwegian kids seem to be just like other kids, which is to say, hormonal, bored, tired, and full of attitude--but really wonderful, some of them, too. But also I just start to confirm some of my initial perceptions about Norway. For example: Norwegians do not know how to negotiate the sidewalk. They just don't. I have discussed this with other Americans. Whereas when we encounter someone on the sidewalk headed in the opposite direction and it seems really clear which way to go (to the right, usually), the Norwegians don't even consider moving. They just come rushing at you blindly. It's totally bizarre. You end up in a ditch or, if you've been living here for five months, you just plow right back into them. Totally strange.

It's Sunday; I got kind of sick last night and have been feeling woozy today. Still I managed to clean my apartment and now I'm going to do a spot of yoga before I meet Stine to exchange some student papers. Then it's Sunday dinner at Petter and Eldri's, and hopefully to bed early.

Hope you're all well. Pictures next time, jeg lover.

Din,

Susie