Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Are we there yet?

We've been promised spring this week. The temperature is a little up today, but there's still no real warmth in the air.

And so I'm actively waiting like a kid in the backseat; for leaves to obscure my view, for fresh parsley and sun and lemonade on the balcony, for the rhythmic thump of desperate joggers on the street outside and the rush of spring swell from the river.

Come on...

Monday, March 30, 2009

What siblings really ought to be able to do

More stealing, this time from Laini. But my god, Lin and Eiv, I feel as if we have absolutely failed as weird trio of siblings compared to this. Skip to about one minute in.
I need a massage now.

Friday, March 27, 2009

It is I, the Hardened Jedi

This superhero-me generator, which I found over at Jim's blog, is really cool. Now, if only I could accessorize with a mega belly. Or maybe my jedi self gets to go without, it certainly seems tempting at times.

2500 words this week, which took me from the Moonwell to the border, and I am satisfied. Next week, I'll try for 3000.

I know, I know: Do or do not. There is no try.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

A conversation with Balthasar the Kitten

(translated into man speak, since kitten speak is part visual)

Balthasar: Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello?
Me: I'm here, Balthus, behind the shower curtain. I'm taking a bath.
Balthasar: I'm here, too!
Me: Yes, I can hear you.
Balthasar (jumps onto bathtub ledge): And now you can see me!
Me: Uh, right. Hello.
Balthasar: Wow. That's a lot of water. Can I drink it?
Me: No. That's my bathwater, it's dirty.
Balthasar: It doesn't look dirty.
Me: Well, I can assure you, it is.
Balthasar: But can I walk along the edge of the tub, so that if I fall in, I'll have to lick my fur and taste the bathwater anyway?
Me: No.
Balthasar: But can I lick the hot part of the faucet?
Me: No! You'll burn your tongue!
Balthasar: But can I play bowling with your shampoo bottles? Look, they float! No, wait, that one didn't. You're right, the water does look dirty.
Me: No! Stop pestering me! Why can't you be more like your mother, she zooms out of here as soon as she hears the water running. One more trick, and I'm kicking you out.
Balthasar: No, no, I'll be good, I'll be good. I'll play on the floor.

(conspicuous silence)

Balthasar: But can I eat your bodylotion?
Me: What? No! Do you have any idea what it would do to your tummy? That's it, young man...
Balthasar: But can I sleep on your toes while you put your make up on?
Me: N...Yes. Yes, I guess that would be okay.
Balthasar: Okay, then.
Me: Okay.

(sleepy purrs)

Saturday, March 21, 2009

But where did they all go?

Only little Balthasar is left of all the kittens now. The rest have gone to start their real lives with new people.

Some went quietly, some went indifferently, some said grave goodbyes and one little one, Mirja, wailed with grief. That was hard. But she has moved to very nice people and by now has probably forgotten that she ever used to sleep in a pile of sibling fur.

Balthasar is a little bewildered and a little bored. Cause mummy doesn't like to play, she prefers sitting in the window sill, looking for boyfriends. Even if she's been neutered now and can't blame raging hormones for her behaviour.

But she can blame spring. It's here, you know, finally. Grünerløkka is suddenly teeming with people, strolling about, browsing in the little shops, huddling in the sun while sipping beer too cold to hold without gloves.

No beer for me, and not much strolling, but in the apartment, the sun pours in through dusty panes, mildly heating the floor boards, highlighting the dust and grime, illuminating sweet, messy kitten fur.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Just Luke

There was no Leia, no Remus, no Ashley in there. Not two, not three, but one.

One perfectly normal, perfectly healthy (as far as ultrasound can tell) little kid, snuggling against my back and doing somersaults to frustrate the ultrasound technicians.

A boy.

Hello, boy.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Riddle me this

What can make a Tone shake with shock?

First hint:

Second hint:

Third hint:

We'll all have to wait until Tuesday to know for sure.

Monday, March 9, 2009

My index card will be blank

I'm worried. I know I said that only grown-ups frown at snow, but I'm starting to...no, I am. I'm frowning. I'm truly sick and tired of snow.

Oslo hasn't seen this much of it since the 80s, apparently. And with the little one coming, I can't sleigh or skate or ski or do any of the fun stuff to do with winter. I don't want winter anymore, I want spring and blossoming trees and lemon sorbet.

But does this mean I'm a grown-up now? I also woke up at 8.30 without an alarm this morning, which hasn't happened since I was five and decided that no, I didn't want to go to kindergarten, I wanted to sleep in. Another sign.

I guess it means you can't see me anymore, Gwen and Bamse and Mario and all my loved ones who are in the Inners now, perhaps gathering in the Observatory, feeding my index card to the Memory Machine, expecting a glimpse of me sitting in my usual window seat at Påfyll pretending to write, but really blogging. For the first time, it won't work. The mirror will remain cloudy and the machine will spit out my card again, and it'll be blank. There is no child by the name of Tone Almhjell anymore. So sad.

But on the upside, I finished chapter 16 yesterday. Phew. On the upside there's spring just around the corner, blossoms and all. And on the upside, a new index card for an entirely new child will be written out come August, and mine will only be missed now and then by a round eyed, mute cat, a gutsy, little gerbil and a much cuddled teddy with a flat button in place of his left eye.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

For Heidi...

The chosen one

Please, please, choose me, choose me, choose me, choose me...

Okay, Balthasar, we choose you. You can stay with us.

Not an easy decision, I tell you, they're all so cute and fun. But little Balthus is sweet and calm and doesn't torment his mother, not too much, anyway.

By the way, I don't think I'm having a baby, I'm having a dictionary. Where else are all those words slipping off to? I can barely write, or speak coherently after eight o'clock, and my poor blog is really suffering. I'm still here, I promise. I just have to fill that dictionary with words first.

I did get some writing done, though. I'm still working on chapter 16, which is difficult to get a firm grasp on. The end of chapter 15 was a dramatic season finale, like the hoot of a steam whistle, and it's hard to pick up steam again.

First I added quite a bit of action, and then a surprise or two, and then the first description of magic being performed. It should be really exciting, but instead it is starchy and tough, like slightly stale bread after a warm, soft croissant.

I wrote a long passage that I had to take out again, but which I hope will fit into chapter 17 instead. That may be what I have to do, plow on, move past the rocks and come back later to plant the pretty seeds. Only I don't have much time to come back later, with baby dictionary due in August.

Well, it won't do much good to worry about that now. At least we know which kitten is staying. That's something, I suppose.