Tuesday, May 26, 2009

We'll be right back...

...after a short pregnancy. Here with Uncle Steel for scale.

Boy, that thing is getting heavy to lug around. And so are all those extra pounds that attacked me when I wasn't looking. Really, it's all I can do to keep writing these days (Hurry! Must hurry!), and the blog just has to come in second.

Meanwhile, why don't you look at the pretty cats? Here's a photo of Mirja, the littlest, prettiest kitten who is growing up to be the prettiest, prettiest cat. Thanks to Ida, her new maid.

Here's Pims, who is just about ready to hurl herself off the balcony with jealousy. Pesky, pesky, nasty Balthus who hogs all the attention!

And here's the culprit himself, who knows exactly where to be when the Tonelady is lazing in bed, too tired to get up.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Zap! Giraffe!

Most days I take a break (ideally from writing, these days quite often from being tired and sleepy) to have a huge caramel latte at my favourite coffe shop. There are only four windows seats, but I usually manage to hog one of them, and then I just sit there, sipping my latte and watching people rush by.

Thorvald Meyers gate is the busyest street on Grünerløkka, and there is never a shortage of entertainment. The pavement is really narrow, and people have to scramble and dance to get past Påfyll's narrow outdoor bench with strollers and shopping bags and rock and roll egos. The shouting lady often stalks by, and the pink man, and dogs of all sizes and breeds. There's just so much to watch, and so much life.

But every three minutes, the tram rumbles by, filled with tired people on their way to or from work. Their drab, impassive faces are frozen and serious, like family portraits from the early 20th century. No one speaks, no one moves, they're just dragged off to whatever thing it is they really don't want to do: work, pick up groceries, make dinner.

I often wish I could cheer them up, even if only for a few moments. And so I dreamt up the giraffe zapper, a most powerful device, which I would wield from my window seat.

It would be a remote control with lots and lots of buttons, each one with the power to cause a particular effect inside the tram. One might fill it with disco balls and 70's music and give everyone huge big fros and sequined lapels. One might cram a thousand balloons in the isle and between all the seats along with carnival music. One might cause it to silently snow bright pink cherryblossom petals, like in a springtime snow globe. And one would fill the tram with giraffes, bending over to fit underneath the ceiling, blowing hot, leafy giraffe breath into everybody's hair.

The magic would last for as long as I could see the tram, a short few seconds, then revert back to normal. And everyone aboard would laugh or shout and start talking to the person next to them, and probably keep smiling all the way to work or through dinner and call all their friends and say 'You won't believe what happened to me today!'

Yes, that would be nice. If only I were a mad, genious scientist. Anyone?

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Balthasar and me III

Me. Hi, little one!
Balthasar: Hi.
Me: There's a good lad.
Balthasar: I don't feel so good.
Me: I know, honey.
Balthasar: Is it because they snipped my balls off?
Me: No. Not anymore.
Balthasar: Is it because of the funny medicine you give me in the morning?
Me: No, that's a painkiller, it makes you feel better.
Balthasar: Then what's wrong with me?
Me: You skinned a toymouse...
Balthasar: Yes. It deserved it.
Me: ...and then ate the fur.
Balthasar: Yes.
Me. All of it.
Balthasar: It tasted nice.
Me: And now it's stuck in your tummy.
Balthasar: Oh.
Me: Yeah. So that's why I have to feed you medical kerosene, okay? To unstick the fur and make it come out.
Balthasar: Oh.
Me: Yeah. Sorry.
Balthasar: I don't like medical kerosene.
Me: I don't blame you, dear. But just think about the cool stuff you can do when this is over: Run around, eat food, play with my necklace, and with the little grey tennis ball, and...
Balthasar: Skin toymice?
Me: Uh, not so much anymore, no.
Balthasar (mumbling): They deserve it, though.
Me: They sure do.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Mollifying latte and bun

It seems I have offended my readers with too much fruit and veg. By the way, what about the pancakes? And ice cream? And cream? No, don't answer that, I quite liked being an icon of health.

For a while. Now, let me clear up this funny misunderstanding by showing you my mid-morning snack, wolfed down to avoid falling asleep again.

It worked, probably due to the sticky caramel in both latte and bun. In fact, the bun was so soft and sticky, I could curl it around my fork like spaghetti.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Hungry, dear

You all know the very hungry caterpillar, of course. I had no idea it was so realistic. Practically a biography for pregnant women. Well almost, because today, on Sunday, I was supposed to eat nothing but a green leaf and make myself a cocoon to become a beautiful butterfly.

But not pregnant-me. On Sunday, she ate through:

1 bowl of vanilla yoghurt with müsli
1 banana
1/2 crisp bread
3 1/2 breakfast pancakes with blueberries and jam
1 glass of orange juice
1 cup of tea
1 latte
1 bowl of fruit, honey and yoghurt
1/2 avocado with olive oil and vinegar
1 huge serving of salmon, potatoes, sugarsnaps, asparagus and sour cream sauce
1 pile of blueberries with ice cream
1 pile of strawberries with cream
3 large glasses of organic apple juice

The first two, I got out of bed in the middle of the night to devour. And it's only nine pm. And d'you know, there's still chocolate in the fridge.

I'm thinking the beautiful butterfly is quite a ways off.