God Bless America

Here's a question you've probably never asked yourself. So let me ask it and answer it so you can broaden your horizons:

Question: How does one celebrate the Fourth of July in Norway?

Answer: One gets silly-drunk down by the lake and one loses one's footing on the uneven rocks that line the shore. Consequently, one tumbles ass-over-teakettle into the lake, fully clothed, of course. One then begins to laugh so hard that rescue is almost necessary.

I, of course, am the one who celebrated thus. And once I was in, there was no sense in not enjoying it to the fullest. It took very little urging at that point to get Jamie onboard, er....actually......overboard, and the out-of-control laughing began in earnest. The kids weren't far behind, also fully clothed. Daniel and Torbjørn stayed dry, smiled indulgently, and gave the evening some small sense of dignity. I don't know how much fun they had, but we girls had a ball. The crowning moment was a tipsy duet by mother-and-daughter singing "You're a Grand Old Flag" and "God Bless America" at the top of our lungs.

So that's the full answer to the question "How does one celebate the Fourth of July in Norway?" Aren't you glad you asked?

Visual Aides

Just a few pictures of the fun and frivolity. Very patriotic stuff here. We've never been so proud to be Americans.
Just after the initial tumble. All I wanted to do was show Daniel my mad rock-skipping skills. Honest.

It's a very steep slope, just under the water there, so climbing out again can be a bitch. Emma was glad to help.

Jamie and I after both of us had been in and climbed out. Again, two of America's finest. Note how our hair isn't even wet. How clever are we?

We hadn't been out more than 2 minutes before we both decided we just had to jump in again (much to Torbjørn's dismay). Emma and Amanda joined us, which left no one on shore to help drag our asses back out again. That asshole Torbjørn refused to help.

Musings from Norway

1. How do you say no when a 4-year-old takes your face in her hands, tilts her head just so, bats her long eyelashes, and says, "pllllleeeeeeeeasssse, Grandma....."???? The answer is, you don't!

2. This is how I woke up this morning: all three kids are crawling in, on, around, over, and under my bed covers while I'm trying to create a warm and cozy moment that can be remembered for some time in the future when Daniel says in his sweetest little-boy voice, "Grandma, remember your rule about no screaming?"

I say, "Oh Daniel, you remember!"

He replies with, "AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGAAAAAA" at volume 10!

3. As Emma and Daniel are arguing about one of the finer points about family rules, Daniel thinks he's made the deciding point by saying, "Daddy says so!" And ever-wise Emma says, "That's just a rule Daddy made up. It's not really a rule unless Mama says it." End of argument!

4. Yesterday we went for a walk. Not much walking got done as I stood back and watched all three kids hunched over as they made their way up a hillside to pick wild blueberries and strawberries. After every mouthful of blueberries, it was a contest to see whose tongue was the bluest. I called them Heidi 1, Heidi 2, and Peter. This doesn't happen in Utah. And there I was without my camera.

5. We went for pizza earlier in the week. Sounds like a simple family outing, right? Wrong! Since the car only seats 5, somebody had to take the bus there. It was raining like crazy, but Torbjørn and Amanda headed for the bus while the rest of us headed for Os. We all met at Peppe's, sat near the fire looking out at the open sea, and consumed 2 pizzas, 2 beers, and 4 sodas for about $135. After some negotiation about who would take the bus home (Jamie agreed to do it), we started back with Grandma driving and Torbjørn in the co-pilot's seat. I'm sure I was making him cringe (he kept using an imaginery brake pedal and leaning heavily right or left around every curve), but since I'm not a beer drinker, I became the logical designated driver. Meanwhile, Jamie was being accosted at the bus stop by a crazy lady and had to call for moral support. Torbjørn was rethinking his decision to have a beer. And still the rain poured down. I won't be taking for granted the ease and convenience of going out for pizza again.

6. I read to each of the kids individually every night. It's my favorite part of the day because they're calm and easy and oh-so-sweet. Amanda likes to hear fairy tales (she cried when I told her about Hansel and Gretel), then we sing each other a song. Daniel's into the Magic Treehouse books and has a hard time sitting still while I read. He's constantly playing with something else, but he knows in a heartbeat if I say something that doesn't make sense.

Then I get to go to Emma's room. She's deeply involved with the American Girl series and says Native Americans are her favorite people that ever lived. This was a surprise to me because it's something that seems so far removed from her life here. When I stumble over phrases like "Katsee-yow-yow" and "Aa-heh, tawts" Emma says, "Grandma, when you come to those, you can just tap me on the shoulder and I'll say them for you." I love reading at bedtime!

That's just a sampling of my daily routine. I'm having a great time.

From the Land of the Midnight Sun

So here I sit in the late afternoon sun (which will STILL be late afternoon sun at 11:oo p.m. tonight), typing on a computer that has at least two extra letters that clutter up the keyboard, and knitting socks just like an old Norwegian lady! And I feel strangely at peace and at home (except for the obvious fact that my other half is in America).

I've never been one of those people who gets depressed in the rain, and I'm more and more becoming someone who hates the heat, so the fact that it rains here almost every day isn't a problem for my psyche. I guess that's easy to say when I only have to deal with it for a few weeks at a time. Who knows? An entire year here might drive me stark raving mad. I'll tell you what DOES drive me stark raving mad....it's not being able to understand what people are saying as I pass by them in stores, or when they have conversations when I'm in the same room and I feel invisible or stupid (or both) because I don't have a clue what they're talking about. I fear even my grandkids think I'm a little bit stupid because I don't understand both languages like they do. Even Amanda, who just turned 4, says, "But Grandma, how come you don't know what they said? I know what they said. Emma knows what they said. Daniel knows what they said. Daddy know......" Yeh, Yeh, Yeh, Amanda, I get it!

So I figure I need to set myself a goal. Am I too old for this, or can I learn a new language at this late stage of my life? For the first couple of days that I was here, Amanda would only speak to me in Norwegian. Apparently, Mom is the only adult she speaks English to. It's fine when they come to the States because they can all switch to English on command, but I do plan to come here to visit, and I can see it's becoming more and more difficult. And it's not one of those languages like Italian or Spanish or German where you can buy tapes and teach-yourself books at any Costco or Barnes & Noble. So....I'm seriously on the prowl for someone who knows Wegie talk. Any old viking will do.

I'd attach some pictures, but you know how it is when you switch to somebody else's computer and you don't know their system and such. As it is, I'm having a hard enough time not putting one of these "æ" or "å" or "ø" in the middle of my words because they're located right where I'm used to finding other letters.

So anyway, you'll just have to believe me when I say it's lush and green and beautiful in Norway. Every square foot is some shade of green, and every hillside has water running down it somewhere. Almost every bend in the road offers a lake, large or small, and flowers bloom until midnight. Women over a certain age always have short hair, and no one wears shoes in the house. Food is spicy, but salt and pepper donæt (see???) usually show up on the table. Fruits and vegetables are plentiful, and fish is served as a main dish, a casserole, a soup, or a pudding. You never drive if you're going to have even one glass of wine, and dinner at a restaurant requires a no-limit credit card. Virtually everything is recycled, and you go to the market every day except Sunday (because they're ALL closed on Sunday). The roads are narrow, and roundabouts are plentiful, but you better know what you're doing or people will honk you off the road. It doesn't cost anything to see the Doctor, but they all go on vacation at the same time, so you'd best not get sick in July. Moms love their kids, and kids love their grandmas. That's the best part......at least for me.

Emma thinks I'm always cool; Daniel thinks I'm okay unless I want to hug and kiss him; and Amanda tolerates me most of the time except when she's honery and says, "I don't like you much, Grandma!" But I know she doesn't mean it, she loves me through and through......or else!

Punk and Circumstances

Did y'all think I abandoned this little corner of my life? Well, for a while, I guess I did. Sometimes it's so hard to keep up with the things that really do make me feel better. Some of those things include (but are not limited to) exercising, eating right, limiting my intake of chocolate, keeping in touch with friends, and.......writing. It's always been therapeutic for me, and I tend to hate my life when I think I'm too busy to take care of me.

The last 3 weeks have been murderous (as in I wanted to murder some of the people who populate my day-to-day life!) The month leading up to Graduation is always stressful, but this year it's been over the top. I spend months trying to make a plan for each inmate so that he's constantly moving ahead toward Graduation. You'd think I'd know by now that a plan is only that -- a plan. It doesn't motivate the unmotivated and it doesn't interest the uninterested. Okay, fine....I can accept that they can't be forced to do the work.

But then, about 3 weeks before Graduation, they realize they've wasted the last 7 months and need to get with the program. In their twisted egotistical minds, this means that I'm supposed to suspend MY plan and get them graduated. They want to spend double and triple time in my classroom (even though every class is already full), they get offended and testy if their work isn't corrected and graded within a few hours of completion, and they somehow want to make it MY fault that they've wasted time and gotten behind.

I can hear you......you're saying something like, "It's not YOUR problem, just ignore them. Go on with your program. If they get it done, great; if not, oh well." I hear you. Let me just say, "It's not always that easy." Remember they're experts at manipulating, making excuses, and appearing to be victims.

I said to one guy, "Have you ever heard the saying that poor planning on your part doesn't constitute an emergency on mine?" He looked at me blankly and said, "Huh?" I said, "Get the fuck out of my face!"

When one guy finally finished, he said "So, what do I do now?" I said, "You go away. Get the fuck out of my face."

Another guy told me, "All I'm trying to do here is graduate. The least you could do is be here to correct my work." I said, "It's a holiday! I'm not coming in on Memorial Day to correct your damn test. I already have my diploma. Get the fuck out of my face!"

I'm exaggerating of course. I've never said (outloud) Get the fuck out of my face. I've thought it on several occasions, but I've stopped short of actually saying it.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to Graduation as never before. Four more years of this? I think I need a therapist. I'm too old for this. I care too much. I need to WRITE more often. Hang in there with me.

Go Ahead.....Decipher This One!

I get a myriad of notes and letters from inmates on a regular basis. A few, because I've asked for a written response to something I've thrown out there, but mostly they're spontaneous and random. A guy needs to vent, or he needs to reach out to someone, but sometimes it's just a matter of expressing gratitude and caring.

So, I offer the following letter I received from a very memorable student. As a matter of fact, he's the first inmate that referred to me as "Queen LaTeacha", and it just seemed to stick.

A little background on this particular felon is in order. He's big, tough, black, clearly gang affiliated, tattooed from head to foot, including a blood-dripping "Compton" across the front of his throat. He's incarcerated on a homicide charge and a slew of drug-related offenses. But he has this uncharacteristic soft side and a penchant for memorizing vocabulary words he never uses in his everyday language. It's like he knows a whole lot more words than he uses. He can recall a hundred multi-syllable, high-falootin', really kick-ass words, but most often he expresses himself with down-home ebonics laced with a variety of four-letter words.

So, here's the letter: (The penmanship is beautiful, and the change of ink color is true to the original letter)

Dear Miss QueenLaTeacha:

I'll like to take this opportunity to present you my meaningfulness Gratitude for the "knowledge" you are Donating to us, and the time you're sharing with us. It takes a real woman with enough quality to penetrate through the intimidation of this Hell on Earth place, to conceal your fear from being expose to darkness due to the nature of this environment. We are not only appreciated your time and teaching, but we also appreciate the captivating scene of your everyday performance, "thank you".

I was born and raised in Compton, California. So you can say I seen more then our eyes can bare. No man alive can witness the struggle that I survived, and I must admit that life on the street taught me how to cut through the toughest air to remain alive. And life in the prison is to recorrect my poor decision from its own darkness to take life seriously.

I was one of the kid that never have much, and my schooling was so poor it still effected it me to this days. The truth is, I gained more knowledge in prison then it was on the street. The only knowledge I possess at the moment it's a self-taught knowledge picked up from experience behind these walls.

During my upcoming life, I never thought that school was so much of a Guiding Star to our lifes. Now that I'm facing the everyday challenge that come within the approaching fate, and the only weapon to bring Victory against those challenge it's in those books that I intendedly lefted dusty on the side of the door of my 6-grade classroom. I wish that today's Generation will recognize the error of my early age, because life don't take kindly on those whos going to refuse to capture what is inside of those books. The lack of schooling can make life worser then the street of Middle East.

What I Expect out of you and your time. Lace me up with everything you got ma'am. I'm not so much of a perfect man, with the perfection of any edication, no, but to keep it realistic for striving towards happiness and freedom is my only intend in this life. Ima do my best to make up with the books I lefted behind.

Thank you. Sincerely, ______________, Inmate #_______.

Are you touched? I was.

It's Just a Number......

That's what everyone says about the "round" birthdays. That, along with some nonsense about only being as old as you feel, or something like that. Whatever. Anyway, here are some other numbers that went along with my "round" birthday last week:

720 = months old

2880 = weeks old

20, 160 = days old

483,840 = hours old

29,030,400 = minutes old

But here are the real interesting numbers from that week:

1 = Number of daughters who traveled across the Atlantic Ocean to surprise me on my day!

7,315 = Approximate number of miles she traveled from Norway.

150 = My heartrate when I saw her standing on my front porch.

17 = Number of times I said, "I don't believe this! You're here!"

15 = Number of drinks I consumed that day starting with mimosas in the morning, lattes at mid-morning, drinks with lunch, champagne in the limo, wine with dinner, and martinis at the Red Door.

1:00 a.m. = Time the limo driver poured us out on the driveway at the end of the night.

0 = Number of keys any of us had to get into the house in our delightfully drunken state!

Wow! What a birthday! What a surprise! What a girl!! She managed to turn what could have been a somewhat depressing day into what will go down as the most memorable of celebrations!

THANK YOU, JEDA!!!