Mar 25, 2018

The photo album/holding life in my hands 2

30 years ago I had just been let out of the hospital where I was nesting a baby for three months. That’s because my second pregnancy was close to a way too early end in the 25th week of the pregnancy. To try to keep the baby in my uterus as long as possible I wasn’t allowed to get out of bed other than going to the bathroom, and I was kept in the hospital as the doctors didn’t trust me on that if I would be at home. So for eleven weeks I was pretty much locked in as the snow fell outside my window day after day, week after week, month after month.

It was difficult. Still, it had a happy ending.

At 36 weeks a pregnancy is considered complete, and that’s when I was allowed  returning back home to Trouble 1 and his dad. And March 29 a healthy baby boy was born, Trouble 2.

When Trouble 1 turned 30 I made photo albums from out his first five years. Old school albums, taping pictures in beautiful files, adding stories in words. Finally, I would say. I always was a diligent photographer and up until my own 30 I put together albums for myself. When the kids arrived though… well, not so much.

 http://homeisawayawayishome.blogspot.se/2016/04/the-photo-albumholding-life-in-my-hands.html

I know I’m not the only one keeping photos in shoe boxes. As I am a well organized person the practical aspect of the whole thing wasn't a problem though. All the pictures are archived in years and events. Christmases, vacations, birthdays. It’s just picking them, one after the other. 

No, the real work was of course the emotional part. Digging deep down in memories and emotions. Sentiments and nostalgia. It was exhausting. And a truly effective self therapy.

Which has been proven these last few weeks as it was time putting together Trouble 2’s firsts years in photo albums. The emotional part of the work hasn’t been as difficult this time around. Moments for taking deep breaths of course and breaks returning to the reality of today, surface after diving deep. But for the most part I have been enjoying the process. Finding myself smiling, in pictures and words creating Trouble 2’s story at the start of his life.

It was snowing as I woke up this morning. My sister and her family came early to help set the table, decorate with glossy balloons and shining streamers, and of course shovel the snow. And as the guest of honor and all the family arrived, the sun did too!

We were sixteen people in my sunny yellow (and now pinkish) kitchen celebrating Trouble 2 today. Sixteen people who all love him very much. Brother, girlfriend, sister-in-law, brother in law, cousins, aunt and uncle, grandmother, in-law-parents, cousins kids. And mother.  

He opened the presents. The photo albums were much appreciated. I feel like I did a good thing. That’s a nice feeling.

In a few days my baby boy is turning 30. A young man now a grown up. Kind, caring and handsome. I am so grateful Trouble 2 is my son. And that I get to be his mother.

Mar 18, 2018

Cherry memories

I am told this weekend is the peak of the cherry trees blooming in Seattle, I wish I was there!

My first memory of the tree blossoming season in Seattle was 1993. We arrived March 22 and our first Seattle home was actually over at Eastside. The cherry tree blooms covered the ground for Trouble & Trouble 4 and 6 years old to play with outside our townhouse in Juanita, Kirkland. We had left the white spring-winter in Sweden for the great adventure, and the cherry trees were snowing!

For me, one of my most exotic Seattle memories is from spring 1997 when we had our home for the year at Portage Bay. Packing our downhill ski equipment on and in our 1981 silver Buick while the cherry trees in the alley told Swedes it was summer. Driving the one hour trip up to the Snoqualmie ski area. Met by tons of snow and great skiing. In the late afternoon heading back to Seattle welcomed by summer. I can still feel the fascinating magic of it.

To Seattleites that’s all spring. But to a Swede from the northern parts of the country it’s summer and winter in a wonderful and amazing package. 2 for the price of 1! I remember Trouble 2 (now 9) having a burger in the sun at one of the ski drive in restaurant porches announcing: this is life!

During my commuting years following I loved packing my bags here at the end of the road this time of year, crossing the ocean, landing in Seattle. Filling my lungs with the fresh sent of moist red cedar and my eyes with the white and pink color from the cherries blooming all over town. Still now, I can sense my body and mind expanding from joy of once again arriving in my second home so different from my first; Away is Home, Home is Away. Just wanting to stay there forever.

I celebrated my 45th birthday on one of those visits. It wasn’t a happy birthday, at least to start with. I was separated going for divorce. I felt old. I had a future in mind which I knew wouldn’t happen. But I had a new semi professional video camera!

I woke up in the morning feeling heavy and sad about my whole situation. But I made a conscious decision to pick myself up. And I started playing with my camera. As soon as I looked through the view finder my heart went pounding. I put the gear in my car and headed towards Seattle from Lynnwood where I stayed at my friend/sister Autumn’s. 

I still remember the footage I shot at the marina east of Gasworks Park. Lying on the docks composing the pictures with houseboats, water and blooming cherry treas. I felt a lot better!

Continuing to Seattle Center. The sun was out, and the colors and shapes of Frank Gehry’s Experience Music Project making me go on for hours, and yeah, catching the Monorail through it!

I remember someone calling me on my way to the parking lot, might it have been Craig? By now I felt so good about the day I told him it was my birthday. Like I had to share it with someone. And of course he congratulated me and I have this image of cherry trees surrounding me, is there even cherry trees at the Seattle Center parking lot?

In the evening my friends all gathered in a Madrona pub for me. It feels surreal now but they were all there: Matt and Elisabeth and daughter Becca, Terry and Doug and kids Reed and Zoe, Maria and little Niko, Annie and Harold, and of course my aunt Helen. My sister Autumn didn’t show though, she basically stood me up!

I was pretty darned disappointed and mad at her as I drew back to her house. Hours later she walked in. Well, the thing was, she had been delayed at work. Which I think had turned to a bar or pub thing. Because there was this new guy… and he was trouble…

I actually got to meet this new guy (shall we call him Trouble 3?) some days later. I frankly didn’t think that wold last. I was vey wrong. She stood me up for the Man in Her Life which she met on March 14, my 45th birthday, meanwhile the cherry trees were blooming on all of us.

Mar 11, 2018

Fine tuning my kitchen

Friday at dinner time the window dressing was up again and the loud speakers as well. In a week my kitchen had gone through a total make over!

My kitchen is yellow. That’s how I would describe it and I am sure anyone visiting here would too. I designed the carpentry - cabinet, drawers a s o - and it was built by skilled crafts people to match my 1920 house. This happened in 1998 and the twenty years passed have of course added it’s marks. Such as occasional smoke from the fire place providing ceiling, fireplace and wall papers grey greasy areas. My kitchen has frankly changed to my least likable room.

I have an utopian dream of repainting the carpentry in tones on a scale from purpur to light pink. I know, it sounds crazy, but the shades would be kind of dusty and I know it would be super cool. Not possible though. Because it would be way to much work and therefore totally out of my budget. That’s why utopian. So I’ve been stuck with my to parts worn out kitchen.

When my house brings me surprises they are of the bad kind. Water damages, heat pump failure, things breaking. The usual stuff home owners have to deal with, comes with the territory. But suddenly, some weeks ago, it gave me an unexpected nice surprise!

It turned out the water leak I had three years ago which caused damage on the kitchen floor was suddenly my friend. The insurance company would pay for renovating the floor! Sanding it and waxing it, I would practically get a new floor! This message I got at Valentine’s, what a treat!

So what better time to take care of the grey-greasy ceiling, the smokey fireplace  and the dirty wallpaper? 

Per and his daughter Elin (who used to live in my village) came here Monday and started the work. Washed the fireplace and the ceiling and worked the wallpapers smooth for painting them. Already on Monday the ceiling was painted and done and Tuesday the fireplace and the preparatory work of the wallpaper. Per and Elin were doing such a great job and are just the best!

My job was to pick a color for the walls.  I had a clear picture, inspired by a special home in Greenwood which I house sat a couple of summers. The owners had played with colors in a way I wouldn’t have thought of. For example mixing a yellow and blue color in the same room. That’s what I was aiming for here!

I picked a very light frosty blue. I had consulted Trouble 1 and his color trained eye from his profession as an illustrator and artist. We agreed on the frost hopefully working both with the yellow carpentry and the grey wood panel at the bottom half of the wall. 

Per painted on Wednesday afternoon but the light had fallen and I couldn’t make a correct judgement. Until Thursday morning. When the light was bright. And I could tell it didn’t work. Bummer. Damned.

The funny thing was the frost worked with the yellow. And it worked with the grey. But the three of them didn’t work together. It’s so interesting. Designing is like tuning a harmony. If you feel like something is off it is. It’s not like, hey, I’ll get used to it. No, it will continue to chafe on you and make you discordant. As with a harmony you have to find what’s out of tune. And fix it.

In this case I couldn’t take out the yellow although I wanted to. Not the grey either. I had to take the frost out. Which really sucked as that’s the one I wanted to keep!

Even more, I had to abandon my blue track. I couldn’t afford taking any more chances. I had to go for a safer track. Which turned out to be the pink one. Yeah, I know it sounds awful. But the pick is a dusty light shade where you find both magenta and  beige depending on the light. And it works. It works really well! It brightens up the dull grey wood panel and the yellow carpentry looks… nicer. My only objection: it's a bit too feminine for my taste. But most important, my kitchen is in harmony. The cord is tuned and my soul is calm.

Yesterday evening my friend Mats and I celebrated our birthdays together, we are only days from each other. It’s an old tradition that’s been down for the last two years when we both turned 60. But last night we brought it to life again, and it was such a delight filling my just made over kitchen with our families, having a delicious dinner and a lot of fun together again.

And. I just had this idea. What if I painted the carpentry in different shades of yellow instead… that would definitely be doable. And the dusty light pink stays on the wall. Yeah… that might work. I hope. Well, it would need some tuning I’m sure…

Mar 4, 2018

Chewing intellectual carrots

So, how do I see to not becoming completely stupid? Declining intellectually and loosing brain capacity? That’s the question.

My life now is very different from the one I had when I didn’t spend most of my time on a couch. In my Before Life I had a social life in company with people always ready to discuss the goings on in the world, reflecting over them. I went to concerts, festivals and I read a lot on the cardio bicycle. I spent quite a lot of time in Seattle, challenged by the language, a big city and my politically engaged and extremely verbally talented friends who made my brain work at the maximum of it’s capacity. 

And I traveled elsewhere. I exercised my profession at interesting work places with colleagues of my kind. I listened to Swedish National Radio (the Swedish equivalent to National Public Radio in the US) while in the car and making/having dinner in my kitchen, and I hardly watched any television. Although I worked in it, which was kind of odd.

It all feels strange and foreign thinking about those days today.

So what about now? Well, my only time for reading literature would be before lights out, but I have chosen to dedicate those minutes to Italian studies. I don’t make dinner any more and as I am eating half lying in my couch, it’s the natural time to put the TV on. I know, I could make a different choice. I could listen to the radio instead, but heck, the TV is so much more seductive as dinner company…

As I am not by any means drawn to junk TV, I still find my TV menu more entertaining than educating. I follow the National Swedish Television news every day of course, but most often a short version. I also watch Wolf at CNN, I have a hard time deciding on if that’s educating or plain entertainment though. I would say it’s both. 

How ever sad the Trump White House is I have gotten used to (and how horrifying is that?!) the horror of it and it’s become a TV series with a plot you couldn’t even come up with. To justify myself I am thinking I am getting a one hour a day dosage of journalistic English, and listening to Wolf’s competent and engaged panel is highly interesting and I would say educating. 

So what more? Well, as I’ve reviled before I have since last summer been following the Turkish drama series Paramparça. That’s my one guilt pleasure. And only half an hour a day. I have become fond of the two families who got entangled in each other as their daughters were exchanged at the hospital when they were born and the drama that’s creating. But although I am learning bits and pieces about the Turkish culture and by now recognizing a few words and can pick the language if heard elsewhere, it still makes me feel kind of bad…

I am also watching what we would categorize as quality drama series. One hour a day. For my soul and senses. For my inspiration and joy. As an evening treat before the day turns to night. 

As I find my intellectual diet too poor I have started this year adding healthier ingredients. Paramparça is on a break so that helps. Instead I am watching conversations in cultural arts, philosophy and politics. Many times I am honestly more up for something less hard digested, but I am forcing myself to chew carrots instead of drinking Coke. Which, of course, feels very good afterwords. 

I am to a large degree lacking people my own age for reflecting conversations where I am using my mother tung to it’s fullest. On the other hand it’s a linguistic challenge to narrow down my sometimes luxuriant language to a level where I am easy to understand. Some of my wonderful home care personal are fairly new in Sweden and in the process of learning a language completely foreign to them. 

We are having mutual language lessons. This winter has been a good one for learning all the different words describing snow, cold and road conditions. And I am having my first opportunity getting aquatinted with Arabic phrases. We are chewing carrots and it’s such an intellectual satisfaction. And oh the joy when I am discovering some of the few Turkish words I have picked up during my guilt pleasure TV watching, show up in the little Arabic I have now learned! Ha!