Homeless again

I just had the saddest news today. My favourite coffee shop in Oslo, Påfyll, is closing after nine years. And suddenly, too, this Sunday is their last day of business. The reason was the usual one here in Grünerløkka, the landlord got greedy and raised the rent to an impossible level for a small, local café.

Not the first, not the last to go, I'm sure. It's just that I get so attached to the places I choose to make mine. I like to go there alone and sit in the window, just soaking it all in, people, light, seasons, life.

I was heartbroken when I had to say goodbye to my first coffee love, Dromedar, when I moved from Trondheim to Oslo. I had spent every afternoon after work there, and most Saturdays and Sundays, too. I'd sit at a window table, nursing my latte, studying cobble stones and old crooked houses and the pale copper green of the cathedral tower, and I still miss it very much.

In Oslo, I didn't find a place I really liked until I started frequenting the tiny place in Thorvald Meyer street. No cathedral, no cobble stones, no crooked houses, but window seats to a busy street theatre, a very friendly owner, and the best and largest caramel latte around.

Since Magnus arrived (not long after the above photo was taken), I've had very little time to myself, but most of the few minutes I've managed to snatch have been spent at Påfyll. I was going to bring my computer and write there during Pan's paternity leave. I was going to take Magnus as soon as he's able to sit on his own. I was going to get iced latte and sit on the tiny bench outside when the days got hot.

Now where will I go?

Happy birthday, Dad

You may not be here to receive a hug or a card or a novel. But there are so many places I find you still.

In footsteps about to sound against the slates under the great elm. In shapes that morph and meld under my lids when I go to sleep. In highly expected April snow. In Balthasar's whiskers when he snoozes in the sun. In the tug of a river swirl.

And most certainly in the blue of Magnus' eyes.

Could be worse

Okay, so I have a cold, the general is still on strike, and the pump and I have a strained relationship. But things could be worse.

I've just danced Magnus to sleep for the first time in months. He's demanding some closeness to make up for the lack of nursing time. Heavy, but very, very nice. I miss him, too.

I'm listening to the radio and my brother, the star, performing live on P3. He's just amazing. <3

Pan might be home early today to give me some sofa time with hankies and tea.

The sun is shining through the branches outside, casting blurred lattice shadows on the softening snow.

Easter is approaching quickly, with sprinkle covered chocolates, all my family around me, spring on the oceanside, possibly the very first nights at Mum's new cabin, and if we get to stop by Almhjell, newborn calves whose ears need to be scratched.

On strike!

Didn't know babies could go on strike? Well, they can. Magnus doesn't want to drink his milk, not from me, and not really from a bottle either. He just wants fruit and oatmeal, which doesn't cut it for a young, strapping lad growing up to be a superhero.

Sadly, I'm no Elastigirl, so I'm a wee bit frazzled by this turn of events. Is it the little tooth you've got going? Is it the little cold you've come down with? Come on, Magnus, can't we go back to our perfect little routine instead of this mayhem of bottles and pumps and frustration? Sooner rather than later would be fine, thank you.