KJ's Ruby Slippers

Royal Frog family

2011-09-10T12:43:00.000-07:00

The King of Lilypond
Frederick Cederic Longfoot

Duchess of Lilypond
Mirea Ann Longfoot

Crown Prince
Frederick Frondle Moss Longfoot II

Archbishop
Silton Cragstone

Lord
Frick Weeden

Vice Admiral
Jack Moss

Lord
Thallus Pickerel Bulrush

Duke of Bogmoor
Sir Wort T. Longfoot

Lady of Rushton
Calla Jane Fenmoor

Earrings for heat

2010-11-02T13:54:00.000-07:00

The building I rent my studio from has been in need of improvements and as winter is fast approaching we decided on a wood stove to help heat the massive hallway. To help pay for the materials we held a support party which went great. Super fun and everyone pitched in with the details and running the bar and entertainment.

Meanwhile, the girls and I have been making some fun wearable sell-ables in hopes of generating some income for other improvements needed. Caroline, My, Laura and I sat for weeks sorting through multi-colored bags of plastic beads and coming up with cute and cool motifs that we either thought might sell or that we just had to do for the fun of it.

I found that the beads come in teeny-tiny size and decided to make it my trademark style. Also, couldn't see myself wearing the large and loud ones the other girls are so good at pulling off. So, a bit more discreet and petite for me.

Later on I decided that it needed some proper packaging to give it a finished look, better sell-ability and to give credit to our cause.

Little package boxes in 4 different colors that are cute to hold and easy to pack. On the bottom of the package is a little blurb about our building and the historical area we are in.

and for a personal touch, each pair of earrings says who handmade them.

There is a larger package for the girls' and I'll put photos of that up next along with the display case I still need to make as we now have a shop in town that wants to carry them!

YAY:-)

Love for the old soul - Part 2

2010-10-23T15:06:00.000-07:00

Luckily I have a fairly stocked studio and found most of what I needed.

Wallpaper paste
Paint scraper
Plastic bowls
Q-tips
Sponges
Caustic soda
Gloves
Brushes
Fine sandpaper
Linseed oil
Insanity

First step: Off with the metal bits. Not good to expose it to acid if I don't really know what kind of metal it is. Most bits looked brass. Loads of screws and a few nails as well and a lock (sadly no key).

Second step: Remove paint.

By mixing the wallpaper paste with the caustic soda, the paint softening acid sits where you want it to and doesn't drip. You can coat several sides at once and let it do the work while you make some coffee. It took several soaks and washes. Apply goo, let it sit, scrap it off. Rinse. Repeat. After a few times I rinsed it in water and let the wood dry a few days. I worked on one part (Lid or base ) at a time. When the box was as dry as I could wait, I used Q-tips to take off the remaining paint in hard to reach corners and such. Occasionally I had to use a wood chisel to ever so gently scrape a fine layer of paint infused wood away. After which I sanded everything smooth again.

I kinda wish I would have taken more photos of the steps I took but I think the work was mostly meditative and I didn't think of it.

I did the same with the tin trays and brass fittings, screws 'n everything metal; Acid, rinse, sand. I did this and not much else for 7 days. One part dried while I worked on the other. Then both needed to dry and I worked on the metal.

For the finish and health of the wood, I coated it 3 times with linseed oil. Every week or so I still do that to keep it from getting thirsty. I need to find a key for it as well. Maybe the German silversmith across the hall with make one for me.

Aprox. cost of box: 3 dollars
Aprox. cost of restoration: 10 dollars
Estimated value: 150 - 200 dollars

I know this is a heck of a build up. "How does it look?" you ask...

Absolutely gorgeous.

Front cut from single piece as you can see in the wood grain.

Yup, Mahogany

Yup, Brass fittings

Mid 1800's Mahogany travel paintbox

Love for the old soul - Part 1

2010-10-23T14:00:00.000-07:00

Husband and I and a car-full of people from Riggersloftet all took a drive to The Blue Hall, a local flea market. Great building of room after room of Antiques, bits and bobs, junk and jems.. you never know what great stuff you'll trip over. This trip I picked me up a few things for what I would consider a real steal.

After not finding much to my interest or of interest to my wallet, a rather nice fella let me have a handful of old gramophone records and this old paint box for 35 kr. The box itself was only 15, around 3 U.S. dollars.

Here are some photos of what it looked like when I bought it.

Side view where you can see the tarnished brass buttons where a leather strap would fasten to tote your paintbox around. (Brass? Really? Nice feature to a beat up 'ol box)

Here if you look closely you can see the dovetail joints. If you could look real close you can see that they are hand carved. And where the paint has chipped off, you can tell it's a decent hard wood. (Hmm, hard wood can always be mended.. so it's a solid box)

The inside of the box with 2 trays for paints and brushes. (I paint, heavy solid box, has some brass bits..Interesting enough to me, and this is why I bought it.)

When the box was covered in enamel paint, it looks as though the drying process was either disturbed or very poorly done as there are peaks of paint that stand up from the surface 1-2 millimeters... and then painted over again. The paint is yellowed from age I suspect.

With some tugging I discovered that the trays are removable and made of zinc. After finding one similar box online, though a deluxe model, I am inclined to think the trays were added at a later date.

I had found my next project. :-D

Circus foot stool

2010-10-02T10:01:00.000-07:00

One of the girls in my building is a circus performer and co-owner of Tin Can Company. Really fantastic woman. She donated a a small piece for me to reupholster as I was looking for a project so I could procrastinate on a current project. Took 2 days, a few coats of paint, clear lacquer, fabric and foam, and brass tacks.

Here are the results.

BEFORE

AFTER

Cheers, K

Studio Production- Dad's carepackage

2010-10-02T08:19:00.000-07:00

Lots has been happening in the studio these past months. I've had some time off to immerse myself again and I'd like to share some progress that I'm proud of.

Dad's birthday care package was a great deal of fun. I had long decided that it would be civil war themed and after seeing some obvious jealousy over brother Brian's red linen shirt I knew what had to be done.

I had to make him one.

So, confederate grey linen was chosen and I hand stitched everything. My first ever hand stitched piece of clothing and I think only a few people can really appreciate the effort in detail. I can confidently label myself a "stitch-counter", a term used for re-enactors that have a high standard of authenticity some may call excessive. :-)

The package contained:

1 hand stitched, civil-war period shirt

1 pair hand knitted socks

1 hand written, civil-war period letter

several boxes of matches

1 slate board and graphite

Wrapped with tea and coffee stained paper, bound with hemp twine

SHIRT- Handmade custom pattern, Mid-thigh length, Long sleeve, Wooden buttons.

LETTER- Authentic "letter from home" hand written, cursive-style script. I used bottled ink and pen, closed with sealing wax and personal seal emblem.

Cheers, K

Studio life- Bread day

2010-04-21T03:35:00.000-07:00

Carolina, who works at a bakery brings home all the good that are marked for disposal and we go down to the pier and feed the birds by the flock-load. Very fat birds out there.

The view of the harbour cafe out by the studio and gorging seagulls.

Subi loves bread and puts on her gull impersonation.

Studio production- Blue 1930-40 armchair

2010-04-21T02:59:00.000-07:00

This chair is an old soul and I'm quite attached to the whole experience.

Now I wish I had taken before photos to show the extent of the repair but I think you can see that the result is rather good anyhow.

I found this chair discarded and had to adopt it. The original covering was leather fixed with brass upholstery tacks. The leather, so old, it had ripped like cardboard paper on all sides and the tacks were green with oxidation. I thought it a hearty solid chair and it still had some life left as well as the original springs and under structure in place so I grabbed it.

I have a favorite fabric store that is stocked with warehouse leftovers and has the most reasonable prices. I got the fabric and trim for this chair for around 200 kr. which is roughly 36.00 U.S. dollars.

I made plenty of mistakes and wasted too much fabric but it's my first ever upholstery project and I'm proud of it. By the way, give me some input on how old you think it is :-)

When I had taken off the old covering there were 2 old black and white passport photos stuck between the layers. I also used these to help date the chair.

Trans Atlantic Travels

2010-01-27T01:10:00.000-08:00

Were I to have taken a steamer over the pond I would have arrived only recently.. if at all. I can then, by retrospective excuse pardon my procrastination. *insert guileless smile*

My favorite cools things I did on holiday visit:

It snowed a bunch

And I couldn't help myself. I was dragged off several times as other things were planned but I HAD to make a snow sculpture. The only figure that made sense to me at the time when considering all the snow activities possible was a Snow Bunny. Of course.

I had to get the bulk of the snow gathered while it was still sticky snow. I didn't have enough time before dark and I knew the temperatures would be too cold and unfortunately freezing the mass solid overnight. So the result is from carving the frozen packed snow. I used a water bottle with a spray nozzle as my glue. Temperatures were brutal, averaging around -12 Fahrenheit. The ice carving doesn't lend too well to detail but I was proud and satisfied. In the end I used coal for the eyes and broom bristles for the whiskers and colored water for pink cheeks and paws and a green star burst grass-like ground (though the colors faded as they froze)

It surprised and flattered me how many people stopped to look at it- neighbors dog walkers, the garbage collectors and mail man, passers by... I was delighted every time I saw it. One morning I woke to find it decapitated by the degenerates that live across the street. That's really when I found out how Mr. S. Bunny had affected people.

The presents I made were a hit

I made 5 fabric kræmmerhus with goodies inside for mom. Kræmmerhus is a danish Christmas decoration which is very similar to our American stockings hung by the fire... only they hang them on the tree and stash goodies in them. Very old world feeling shape to them.

I made Brian 2 shirts for his Civil War re-enactment wardrobe. Both with hand stitched button holes and wooden buttons based on a pattern from the 1800's. One long night shirt made from muslin and one regular shirt, made from red linen flax and also featured a lined front pocket. I have never seen my dad look so envious. A real treat to see it fit! And he liked it.

I sculpted a troll figurine out of fimo clay and hand stitched clothes for the fella. He turned out so well I was inspired to make a tree for him to live in. The doll was so popular it lost a finger in the first 24hours and was shipped to dads shop for repair. Jason loved it.

XOXO-Kyr

Drawing, painting, sculpting... surely one will do the trick?

2009-12-18T04:48:00.001-08:00

He started out as a sketch a few years ago and while going through art pads for inspiration and some stone to leap from, I found him lodged between scribbles, barely formed yet entirely sure of himself. Wanting to break in my new easel given to me by Husband as a wedding gift, I decided this noble fellow would be my first excuse to wear the shine off and get started. I had not painted in quite a long time and though it is like riding a bike, the nervousness of hitting obstacles and other immovable objects, like practice, gave me a passing flicker of dismiss able thought. Doesn't matter if I can't paint, I'll learn again or at the very least. the tragedy of enjoying myself trying.

I picked a medium canvas and decided acrylic would be to my speed. Easily forgivable and not much waiting time between attempts.

The first underpainting took an hour to block out and not much

trouble. The next hour was building up basic highlights and shadows and roughing in the volume. So far NO problem. I was quite pleased. A few breaks and cups of coffee in between drying layers, play with the dog and chat with some of the guys in the building. In fact I was feeling so confident, I started a fimo clay figure head, though the painting kept luring me back. A wonderful way to spend a cold winter day.

Day two: Working well. And then I hit the wall.

I just got stuck with shadows and details, started messing up the clothing.. BAH. Time for a different approach.

So I found that you can get really cheap clay here around the holidays. Apparently it's used for sticking plants and things into for table decorations. 2 kilo for 1 dollar 20. Man! Genius! I got myself a whole new media. I haven't really worked with clay so much and wanted to make a study of this froggy fellow to help me with the detail work of the painting based on the sketch.

Nothing finished but still enjoying the tragedy of it all :-)

Love from Cph

The Making of an Art Studio and Happy Domesticates

2009-12-16T02:32:00.001-08:00

Husband is a gem of a man and quite the anthropologist when it comes to his wife. I am often in awe of his insight and consideration as to the methods of enriching my life and thrivelyhood. I am an unfortunately simple organism that has few requirements though to describe them would give entirely the opposite impression. Husband can however give you the rules of how to take care of a Kyrie should you find one in the wild and wish to domesticate it with any degree of success and happiness to the both of you.

A recent concern has been that quite often they can become lethargic and depressed when confined to a static or unchanging environment or one which is too small for it's needs...

(Cue: sound of heavy footed tripping followed by tense cursing)

A build up over time of this can lead to a very frustrated and unhappy state commonly expressed by terse and repetitive remarks (often complaints guised as accusations), fits of anger, acquiescence, and other outward expressions of melancholy. A very cranky situation all round.

The answer? Make an Art Studio.

(Cue: raucous applause, laughter and shouts of joy)

I am the proud renter of an atelier- 18 square meters of pure creative space. Out in the abandoned and newly re-purposed B&W shipyard area of refshaleøen. The top floor of the old riggers building is where I rent my space from. It's the orange brick building to the left. The bottom level is leased to an auto repair shop and the entrance of the building neighbors a huge antique warehouse where often

I find discarded furniture to re purpose. All of my storage shelves and chairs have been contributed in this fashion and I am quite proud to support the recycling mentality though were I to be a perfectly upstanding citizen I would have to allow these items to be picked up by the city disposal (I am a tax payer to technically I am paying for it already) and drag it off to a dump where it would be burned or mulched (I mostly save hard wood items- they can have the metal).

It was Husband's idea, he got me started by sending me adverts from the local paper and I took it from there, and found my new joy-ground.

This is the BEFORE, looking in.

The building has several rooms for rent and has around 8 creative residents and 4 studio renters: musicians, painters, photographers, an installation artist and circus performers. The part I rent is a section of a large room which was divided by makeshift partitions, cutting the room into 3 ateliers, each a little under 18 square meters. One large window each and the small circle on the back wall is the ventilation.

Of course there is no heat in the building, no electric heat anyway. Each atelier comes with a gas

space heater- I buy the gas tanks, they loan the heaters. Not too pricy, if you dont have to heat the whole room that is. Windows are 2 layers of plexiglass, no insulation on any surface and this is scandinavia.. a bit of a challenge for someone who loathes the cold.

This is the BEFORE, my back to the window

Where Subi is sitting is the hallway to access the other sections. The comfy chair was donated by my wonderful Svigermor, Dorthe (Mom-in-law). With the heat being an issue for me I promptly went about pitching the idea of building a proper insulated wall and was met with agreals all round. HuRAH! Husband and I spent 2 weeks building it and laying insulation on the floor along with a few carpets and thin plates of particle board, painting the walls and moving in all my tools and supplies.

The final result. AFTER looking in

I have a clay and sculpting station at the window. The table top is glass and I can alternatively use it for lino-print and general hard surface requirements. To the immediate right I have my painting easel, frames and canvases stacked in the corner. 3 quarters of the wall is taken by shelving of supplies and tools, including my sewing machines and coffee making gear.
In the foreground to the left I have a desk which extends in length for sewing and other large projects needing a sturdy indestructible surface.

AFTER, with back to window

I have a split, dutch style door to help with ventilation and the occasional passing inquiry which allows me to open the top part while keeping some of the heat as well as the dog in. I have had several comments on how hot it is in my studio... LOVELY.

Husband is SO jealous :-D

I am overjoyed!

Hugs and Love from a real live artist

Sweets and Heat

2009-10-11T04:49:00.000-07:00

Outside as the temperature falls along with the leaves just a bit more every day, the chill tarnishing greens into yellow golden-orange and browns. As always, it is beautiful out at Dorthe's lake in all the seasons. My favorite place to regress into childhood activities.

This visit, as with our last, two weeks ago, has been filled with many enjoyable projects. Barter, trade and recycle is the best way out here.

The blackberry bushes that grow along the lake path have clawed, scratched and stung their last battle this season, rewarding with fat berries to only the most determined of foragers. I am the proud Blackberry Queen, finding buckets where only few were guessed to remain. haHA! I made a wonderful blackberry syrup with the batch freshly picked, thick and sweet and smooth to accompany husbands delicious danish style pancakes for this mornings breakfast.

Last visit, Dorthe required better satellite reception so Chris, a friend from the area, came and cut down a pine and a fir tree. I got inspired and got my pick of material to practice and learn wood carving with. My first project is a yard gnome about 2 feet tall. Ambitious but delightfully challenging. First tests with wet wood have taught me that I need better tools. A few gauges of curved chisels, V- chisels and a small chain saw will be aquired and hopfully in the near future I will post progress on that one.

Helle and Mohammad have a beautiful yard and offered me the use of their lavender so I could make "lavendel pind" or lavender bottles for the girls. Simple, charming and gorgeous smelling decorations for linen cabinets or lingerie drawers.

Besides that, they have a new litter of kittens, two of which I have come to ferry to Copenhagen as a birthday present to a close friend of mine who is anxious and impatient to receive. I'm getting daily photos from LOLcats and name proposals (though last I saw of the kitties they were too young to tell their gender).

Fall is good, life is good and Subi-dog is having a blast out here.

Love from DK

Subi

2009-09-20T09:23:00.000-07:00

The Forgotten Wilbur Smith

2009-08-11T02:33:00.000-07:00

I have three books on loan from a South African commercial pilot living in Denmark.

Because I have the tendency to forget, I have learned to compensate with curiosity. I make do with whatever is at hand, inspect and pose it with some interest to what’s between my ears. It also gives me a window I would otherwise be too occupied to use.

With plenty of time to spare this morning, coffee and pastry in hand(my spoonful of sugar to swallow the train so to speak), I sadly stood at the track and watched the clock, black armed, pushing fat minutes into blocks of fives and tens- minutes I could have been in Africa. I could have been in Canada or wherever with my caffeine comfort observing Sean Courtney, had I remembered my book. I’m told by Chris, who was raised in South Africa, the level of detail and accuracy Smith writes with in all of his novels, winning respect and interest before I even turn a page. And after turning a few it gives me a feeling of solid ground. So solid I could kick up the dust with my own feet.

I see Chris reading these books with flashbacks, the smell of heat and nostalgia of his own childhood.

Subi 10 weeks

2009-08-06T05:34:00.000-07:00

So we have 7 days under our belt and the routine is starting to take shape. I have to say I'm impressed with this little personality. She is a sturdy puppy and hardly seems effected by being corrected. Some pups act as though you've killed them, but no, not our Subi. She could care less really most of the time. Besides taking correction pretty well, she actually learns and listens. She's doing it all pretty fast.

Potty training is nearly there (note to self, repeat 90 times).

She sits on command, though to be fair she prefers sitting calmly and watching you so that one was easy.

Dæk (danish for lie down, kinda like "hit the deck")- she's done a few successful repetitions of this one without many clues. Repeat 30-90 times.

Come- she doesn't focus when there are other dogs around but she is pretty good at stopping whatever she is doing and coming back to get a good ol pat on the head.

Not bad for one week. Jeez she is growing fast too.

Time flies like an arrow, Fruit flies like bananas

2009-07-31T05:42:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since I my last entry. Loads has happened.
In february Hubs and I took a 3 week trip to Australia to visit his sister and niece. We saw the great outback, kangaroos, wild boars, koalas, joeys and even had a up-close encounter helping an echidna cross the road (I'm sure there is a aussie joke out there somewhere about that). So many wonderful things I can say about the south side of the equator. I still have batches of photos to process and will get them up here eventually.

At the end of May, we surprised my dad with a visit for his 60th birthday. Only my partners in crime, Aunt Kendra and Uncle Jack were in on that and the outcome was the best (good) shock I think my dad has had in decades. I'm proud to have such a wonderful husband to support me and my connection with family back home. It was his idea in the first place and he made sure it happened despite my protests of practicality. We stayed 10 days and took a small trip to Eureka Springs Arkansas. Beautiful. Deege will hate motocycles for a long time :-)

In July we returned to Kansas City for 3 weeks for our full summer vacation and spent a week in Colorado and a few lost hours in Wyoming. Took the Nephews, Jason (5) and Noe (10) on their first real camping trip. Real in that they were in genuine wilderness, with real live animals which prevent you from being the top of the food chain, in a minimal shelter, no public facilities or even water to be found. We needed to bring our own water with us.
I think despite the normal tantrums and behaviour acts, they enjoyed it. A shock for Hubs and I as we don't have contact with children of any age back in Denmark. One evening/early morning a bear came into camp and was sniffing around the kids tent (the only unarmed shelter) .

He didn't cause any trouble and left on his own as the food was locked in a car a few yards off. I have to be honest, there were a few tantrums the kiddies threw that led us adults to ponder the peace we might have had were the bear not so picky that night.

hehe.

And tomorrow, at 12:00 we start a new endeavor. We will be picking up our new puppy, Subi, down in south sjælland and taking her into our hearts and lives. Companionship is a huge motivator for anyone part of the human race. I think we have been needing more family near us, and this will be our training wheels for future additions.

I look forward to new experiences, new situations, new friendships and perhaps even a more fit (physically and mentally) Me.

She is just what we were looking for. A 50/50 mix between a Bernese Mountain dog and a Border Collie.

Our New puppy, Subi- 9 weeks

SnowDog

2009-02-19T07:05:00.000-08:00

Went up north for the weekend. 3 bridges and 3 hours later we arrive in Århus for our

Valentine's

Day treat of spending a few hours in Den Gammel By (The old city). The main purpose of course besides the photography was to obtain our favorite honey-heart cookies that are baked (we hope) fresh from the old time bakery they have there. They can be many sizes, but our favorite ones are about the size of our hand and they all come with pictures of angels pressed into the chocolate coating on top.

The next morning we woke to a white landscape across the land and lake.. it snowed all day and was perfect perfect perfect for building with snow. I could not help myself and decided to have at it as the temperature could

change and close the window for fun. I began with the traditional balls of snow for bulk and ended up with a mass slightly shorter than my 5ft. 3. Hand sanding and carving from there ended up with a rough shape of a dog and I gave up the rest when friends came over for coffee and a chat. the results are still nice though I think you can see that I will be going to Australia soon.

Dog?

or kangaroo? You choose. :-)

F-F-February at 56°00 'N

2009-02-02T08:04:00.000-08:00

The countdown begins.

The worst of the winter months has arrived in Denmark. Although we have already had 3 months of grey, cold weather, this month is the final test. The coldest, greyest, wetest, most depressing and least loved- as well as the shortest (with good reason). Winter blues are hitting hard and as the country is abraded by ice and wind and dark, Hubs and I are taking 3 weeks in Australia. It is exotic, it is warm, it is dangerous and there will be adventure this winter. The sunlight will dislodge the dustbunnies of gloom from our brains make them sparkle with joy. Woohoo, Yipee, La-la-la-la- SNAKE! Hehe, Haha, yeehaa- SHARK!

Okay, cautious joy then.

Until you have lived with long dark winters (Alaska, you hear me) you have every reason to scoff at this mamby pamby mood "disorder". Those of us that have, however, mutually scoff at those that have such a dismisal of the effect of one's environment. And just one winter doesnt count Im afraid. Surviving it once is almost unnoticeable. Having 13 of these cycles under my belt weighs a ton and makes my knees buckle and boy I'm ready to travel light. har har

Lets see how the packing goes.. and the 24 hour flight. :-P

Smarts

2008-12-11T07:37:00.000-08:00

In the dark on the train. I've let go of the transportation issue. Yes it is inconvenient. No it won't be changing in the near future. Get on with it.

I have a list of things to get on with. I've had a few days now of impotent anger and futile emotion. It comes from not knowing or understanding the "Why". Why must the world work contradictory from what one believes or supposes, or even what one has learned? Why does the bad guy win? Why does the skinny girl get to be popular and not the smart one? Why does money rule and not common sense?

All the why and how and WHAT?!

Once again, I am engaged in a discussion as to why I don't speak Danish. I met someone new at work so of course, without fail, it becomes a short lived curiosity quelled with disappointed and indignant looks. I don't expect anything better really. I am compared to every example anyone has experienced and I fall short. Iv'e been called lazy, stupid, typical american (or english speaker), manipulative and expressions I didn't understand and don't remember now. It's personal.

When I meet people and they turn off and away and into Danish it feels personal. I'm told time and time again that it isn't. I don't know how to be impersonal when I'm interacting with a person. I suppose I would fit in better if I treated people like objects to maneuver around, don't take it personal, its just a bus driver, just a grocery clerk, just a pedestrian, just a co-worker.

That smarts.

It makes me feel like when I was five and my best friend invited me over to spend the night at her house, a huge mansion.. I remember my mom pulling into their drive to drop me off and how uncomfortable she was. It was just an amazing, huge structure in my eyes and I knew there would be no running inside and many other rules but really, for the most part, I didn't think of it. The arrangement was for one parent to deliver the child (me) and the other to return, share the responsibility. I was so excited to be spending the night over at Amy's. I remember having a fun time, and going to school on monday. I remember she didnt talk to me all day though we were in the same class and usually played together during recess. I thought I had done something wrong and she didn't like me anymore.

I suppose I never would have found out if she had not liked me as much as she did and gone againts her parents. No she wasn't mad at me and no, I didn't hurt her feelings. She was sorry but she was not to talk or play with me anymore because my parents didn't make enough money. I was too poor to play with and I didn't understand what it had to do with me. I cried when I got home and told my mom even though I didnt understand what the problem was. I didn't know then and I now that I do, I still don't see the problem.

I don't speak Danish, and yes I have been living in Denmark for a long time but I don't understand why I'm looked down on, less of a person, not worthy of conversation. I only know I can see it when I meet people and I can feel it when I open my mouth. I have had conversations with people that have very little english or none at all and have enjoyed the pantomime and excitement from simply wanting to interact. It's irrelevent to strangers why I don't, or can't when I explain my efforts to learn it; 2 schools and 3 private tutors in the span of 9 years. It's not that I haven't made the effort, it is that I didn't succeed, or maybe it's easier to disregard those outside the heavily guarded circle. In the end, it is simply taken as an excuse and I'm somehow less.

Because of previous choices and current situations, picking up and moving back to the U.S. isn't that easy. I don't think I could ask that of my husband, put him in my shoes so I can be more comfortable. I would fit in but he might stick out, might have the same problems and struggles. He would have to go without family, without hearing and using his own language, leave his friends behind, his whole country...

No, it's not that easy anymore. And all the while I can hear the chant: "Now you have to learn Danish", "just learn it", " bare, lige, det er kun"...

End of the line.

Time flux

2008-10-27T00:10:00.000-07:00

Daylight savings is a farse! Complete Flummery!

Today is confusing as I feel every year is around this time. You keep an eye out for the time change, cursing all the while that it is unnecessary to reset your clocks- does it matter if it's by 5 hours or by one? Every year I forget. EVERY year. Some years I'm caught, some not. This time I've been talking to mom over Skype, and for some reason, at least in the U.S. of wacko .A they don't set their clocks back until November.. completely arbitrary. Why. Not that any answer would justify an alteration to the already obsolete, it just ticks me off.

Last night the digital devices decided, well, half of them really, that it was daylight savings time once again. The clocks auto switched by one hour but because of the previous conversation with mom there was great doubt of which clocks were correct. I checked the tv station clock and called it correct.

Like vampires (which is what I was watching before bed last night) Hubs and I awake, dress and leave for work.. noticing something was not quite right as there was too much light! The car clock, train station were saying one thing and the mobile phones and tv were objecting, insisting doubt.

The clock on the front of the train station said 8:50 but I caught the 7:50 train to Odense.. And yes, the computer also says I am on normal time.. I give up. Days like this you just have to ignore. Everyone should renounce being on time for 24 hours. I pity the airports, and I have very little love for them.

Morning landscape in lovely light, blaring through the windows and blinding me with after images of black dots. Down into the tunnel and out the other side, flanked by ocean 10 meters away to the right and a few car lanes on the left. The yellow sun always has a dramatic effect on the blue ocean. Cloudy on this side, hazy and grey. So purple near the horizon where cold rain surely falls and covers a distant island..

Ah the metallic burning smell of brakes.

Where with all

2008-10-23T09:24:00.000-07:00

Six thirty in the evening and already twilight. It looks darker but I don't know the word. Black sillouettes of trees and dark blue clouds on the back line horizon. Bright light refections on the window. Fully lit train car softened by the falling dark outside. People working, reading, talking on their phones, busy busy busy not making contact. Busy blocking out people. And I have no protest. I'm in here, listening to my tunes of choice and draining my head of what I can without being caught.

Bridge.
The big one that jumbles all connections.
Dead pulse waiting for the other end. Ears popping

The dark on the other side doesnt make it obvious we have made it out the other end. Small lights, tail lights, lamp posts and office windows glitter on the other side of the trees losing leaves.. In the ten minutes I have written, the sun has lunged for the other side leaving no line to disect the ground and sky.

Today I turned over thoughts of home during the walk to the station. Home, that original nest that once left can never fit again. It is like that. Just like that. My bed is sooo small, almost as small as the room when I visit Gladstone. Just like when I visited my old elementary school.. I had never realized as a child that the bathrooms were customized for little people. I never did then. Memories of important things being out of reach, the sink, soap and faucets.. Can't be true. At some age it fit just right. Somewhere between 5 and 11 years but I can't hold it right in my memory to feel it. Only as an adult can I see it, with imperical eyes.

Like many things, here across the ocean from the first nest, I have big empty places where things used to fill me. My nose greatly misses the place in my morning where mother filled it with iron steam, shampoo, and damp wafting around with the spray starch and sunrise. Squeaky springs and soft tapping on doors- reminders to get up.. Mornings where I didn't question whether it was a choice to get up, only a choice to get out of bed now or in 5 minutes. It was always on and on and endless time to get through, endless months and seasons, years and school grades.

There are so many experiences and people that make "me", but mostly right now I feel made. Finished and cold, missing the heat of growing, learning, wanting, wanting wanting. Today I want to be then. I want the maybe, and hopful, the new and I'll find a way.

I'm suppost to be happy. It's not a final state, I get that. It's journey and direction and learning and failing and being surprised and disappointed and loveing and losing and many things. I know. I know. I get it. But something is wrong. The soul is not burning hot with screaming curiosity and love for life. I'm cold and quiet.

I have a place to live, people to work with, a city to live in, a world to mark..

But I have no home that fits like my skin.

Sunset October

2008-10-20T07:50:00.001-07:00

Again, the train. On time.

It's 4:50 in the afternoon and I'm watching the sun set, illuminating the autumn landscape as it slides into the horizon. Farms and silos, square patches of green and darker green and yellow and orange and all colors of warmth and glow. Sunrise on the ride into the office, though more misty and colder, sunset on the ride home. It's beautiful, yes.

It is also only a month or so away from the dark days. Waking in the dark, going to work in the dark, leaving the office in the dark, coming home on the train... you guessed it, IN THE DARK. Scandinavia suposedly has the highest suicide rate in the world. It's also the richest and happiest. How can you rely on anything that contradicts on a fundamental basis? I think statistic are just a fun party trick, like sound bites and quotes- Taken out of context you can inject them into any conversation to give it spark.

This week holds a few activities. Today Hubs and I take a visit to the American embassy to experience a little cusine. An initiative of the embassy is to invite for dinner, guests of various company activity clubs. Sort of like a communal activity for all the highschool glee clubs to participate in. A little prestige, a little bit of culture.. This is the first time my passport, a metal detector and a pat down was required to eat dinner. But there you have it. Security is the drug that America has been trying to seriously kill itself with for the last 10 years, with much success I'll add. Fear is just the best cohersion technique ever discovered... Okay.. straying...

Høje Taastrup is leaving the horizon and I don't have any more to purge.

See ya tomorrow.

The train

2008-10-14T07:20:00.000-07:00

I don't know what to say about the blog.. It fell off I suppose. People do that. Lost in the days and events. Time enough to live it but not record it.

It's difficult enough to just put yourself out there. Intimidating and compelling. What must the world think, including me.

I would write in my diary and keep it to myself, if it were here, and didn't add another pound and a half to the already 8 kilos I have to carry around daily. Think max weight carry-on at the airport. Not convenient, but portable.

How to write without sounding self indulgent, self pitying, self righteous, self critical, self important... it can't be done by me. Self is third person Me, sometimes second depending on how far away I need to be, so I don't know how silly that is. First person criticizing third person.. Let's just say I have a chunk of time where this becomes possible again, when the stars are aligned with my disposition, I record, I observe from and on the inside.

My apologies.

Today I was standing at the track, in time for the train.

Relief.

The daily anxiety of being late or stranded subsides twice a day, usually. I live in København and work in Odense. They are 90 minutes apart. Yes, a good unit of sleep if you believe that 90 minute sleep cycles are best for your bod, and I do. It was my eagerness for employment, to have income, and there I place the blame for ignored obstacles hindsight presents to me now. Some days in the week are spent in Kbh, but not many. It changes as everything in the universe does.

As I was saying, standing at the track, the right one at the right time, even though the day has made successful attempts to provoke me, I am on time for the train today. I am even early with 4 minutes to spare. Exasperation and hate has me turned inwards. I don't like too much attention, to be stared at and speculated over so these things go into the toxic containment unit where it can fester and avoid unwanted attention.

I have several steps of de-contamination, the first step being the 15 minute brisk walk to the train station from the office in Odense. Step one-Status: FAILED

At the track, on time, still metering in the red so I make an ever-so-slightly external attempt. I see a group standing with a young dog. Not a puppy, this is not a cutsy-don't-I-feel-better spiel. I see an animal, which I am allergic to so I can't own one.. And like the desperate I am, I simply want to put myself in eye-line of this black lab and get some sort of acknowledgement, some recognition, some of that unconditional love that the owner is privileged everyday with.. I look to an animal to make me smile, to feel better, to take down my toxic level of malcontentment. I have a pounding headache, lacking the time to seek out and acquire a remedy, I think this will work.

The group is too big for the young dog to focus with so much going on on top of a large approaching German Shepard, escorted by a shabby looking thin man in a well used, poorly kept coat and hat; jeans too big. And I hear him ask if the two animals should try talking to each other. Respecting that the Black dog may not have permission to converse with the likes of him he holds back. You decide if it's the man or the dog I mean. The thin man's Shepard looked healthy. Not pampered, not bejeweled around the collar or led on a fancy nylon leash. A plain metal tag with a rope attached is really all any dog needs. It's the humans that need the rest and i find myself respecting the simple solution though it may be the only one available.

With approval from owners, both dogs sniff and warily accept each other after which the thin fellow inquires if anyone has pocket change, small change. He asks the crowd politely and I don't overhear or understand everything he says or what he refers to that is the problem.. but they give a bit. Panicked, I see him approach. This beggar caught by another though I had no verbal request, I knew I was related.

Of course he is trying and so do I. I check my pockets and come up with 7 and a half kroner. Almost nothing and I'm embarrassed to offer it to him. I'm apologising, not wanting to insult him by offering such pittance and he interjects with gracious acceptance. He bows and smiles at me saying something I wish I understood all of. Something about it didn't matter how small, it was the offer, that I was not against.. him or the situation maybe... He said a few things, explaining his point of grateful view for people like me who give what they have. He was what most people need to be slapped with once in a while, I think. I don't know how to explain my own gratitude that someone thought I was worthy of kindness, of a good thought, a good word.. even with that toxic waste surrounding me..

Whatever his name, whomever he was, he lifted my spirit and slapped me nicely with the reminder that people are not a lost cause. There are still beautiful ones out there to meet... I have to remember to shut down my memory more often. Constantly deceptive input.

The train doesn't go any further.

End Trans

My Dad

2008-04-09T11:15:00.000-07:00

Kirk Madison Hale

Born 1949
First of 11 children (5 brothers, 5 sisters)
His siblings are(in order of appearance): Kirk Madison, Jack, Christopher, George, Joel Craig, Jeanine Marcel, Robin Renee, Vivian Lovelace, Holly Sancerae, Courtessa Ann, and Mathew.

My dad is difficult to write about. It's like reading a historical mystery novel. He is a character that the reader leans in to watch, and watching provokes reaction, and reaction...leads..well it just always leads to something, usually trouble. There is mystery, drama, action, suspense and great dialogue. He gets bored and likes to mess with people.. wake 'em up so to speak. :-) That and he likes to blow things up.
I think Dad is basically neo-traditional. I see him as stoic, intelligent, clever, resourceful, practical, observative- house chores are for women. He doesn't think women should be heard doing anything so unlady-like as burping but it's okay to gun them down in paintball. Go figure. He's cool, loves his Guinness and Irish folk music, builds civil war cannons and is a leading member in the Landis Artillery Battery C.S.A. , a civil war reenactment group. He maintains the cannons and produces the rounds of ammunition, building everything from scratch including smithing his own fittings. This is his greatest and most recent past time obsession. I have to say, he's good at it. Damn good.
He went to Vietnam when he was 18. He worked at the downtown airport as an air traffic controller until his recent retirement. He is also a pilot. A great sport and up for a bit O' challenge and danger. He taught me and my brothers to technical climb from a young age. I think I was 8. Lots of camping trips, lemon heads and liquorice while hiking in the mountains of Colorado. Loved it, want more, am proud to have survived :-).

I Love my Dad. He makes me think and helps me build things.

He can make anything. My childhood was bathed in calamine lotion and healing creams from the fun we had making and testing various rides dad built for us in the back yard (a popular hotbed for poison ivy). We had a zip line, a hand welded sit and push merry-go-round, a tree house and jungle gym. Mini-bikes and Go-carts, hair spray driven tennis ball cannons and paintball kits. So cool- 25 cents for donation to the huge CO2 tank dad bought to refill the air cartridges for our paint guns. He had BOXES of different paint ball rounds manufactured from different places so we could test ourselves which were most accurate. Clever and fun :-)
Here we are (Mom is taking the picture), at Crestview park, the favorite place to test mini bikes, go-carts and model planes. It is the elementary school dad and siblings went to when they were little, and only a short walk from Grandma Hale's.

Dad helped me construct many an art project and encouraged me not to let difficulties detour me from taking on a huge project. Admittedly some got the best of me and lie, to date, unfinished. We all have our weaknesses.

I was never good with the machines either. I'm too aware of my mortality, i.e. nervous. I wanted to be otherwise, seeing the brothers excel with motor vehicles and mechanics but that's how it goes. I wanted to live and keep all my fingers and toes. He could wire electronics, woodwork, explosives, metalwork, build a car, build a house if he wanted. The pitfall to his talent is stubbornness. If he doesn't feel like working on it that day, no matter the urgency, forget it. It's on the list of retirement rules ;-). Requests are taken seemingly at random, much to mothers frustration.
So I present to you, if only the tip of the iceberg, My Dad. My Pops.
Love ya Dad. :-) XOXOXO

My Mom

2008-01-21T14:23:00.000-08:00

Jo-Ann Cecilia Hale
Born 1950, second of 5 children. Her siblings are(in order of appearance- i think): Paulette, (Jo-Anne), James, Alby and Lewis.

She is an amazing teacher

bettered only by also being an amazing mom. I love my mom. I could go on for hours about her. I am so proud to to have grown up under her eyes.

She teaches children with learning disabilities and behaviour disorders. She works with a very ethnic group of kids, a wide range of physical and mental challenges that keeps her planning up

to 9 separate lesson plans that she pulls from her huge and ever growing library to cater to these children. She loves teaching. It's the B.S and P.R. that drains her.

She is a great person to learn from, taking me and my brothers to the museums, parks and natural conservation centers when we were growing up. I really could go on for hours. ;-)

So mom is an artist too. Surprise. She majored in Fine Art. Is great in charcoal and acrylic, pencil and oil painting.

Sewing!

I had a life size (5 yr. old) Raggedy Ann doll that was awesome. So awesome I never let her finish the hair. That was the coolest doll.

You should know that my mom is a great sport. She has a good sense of humor and likes to dance, talk and laugh. She is however, a bit quiet on the surface. I love you mom. Don't disown me.

She took ballet for 8 years.

She is a petite woman.

Her father was half French.

She makes lace by hand, canes chairs, weaves baskets, spins her own wool and has too little time for herself.

She loves her children.

I can't wait to see you mom. XOXOXO

Loves

The Church. Take two.

2008-01-08T22:15:00.000-08:00

One Sunday, recently, (well, more like, November 17th) we drove up to Silkeborg to visit Søren's mom Dorthe and his best friends Helle and Muhammad who have connections to, seemingly, the entire town and to run a few errands.

This time we got into the church! We were so hungry for photos we went twice. I had to get some inspiring video of the interior as I wanted to share it with y'all that can't be in Denmark for that day.

It was perfect timing that we stepped into the church as the organ player was warming up for a confirmation class. It was early in the day so the light was very balanced- both warm from electric light and brightened from the natural light coming in through the small windows. It was so lovely and personal. It took me by surprise though that the "runway" is an L shape rather than a straight shot. A shorter walk for sure. Dum dum da dum -*hang a ralf!

I could tell that Deege was getting excited (maybe it was anxiety I detected- hard to tell in this situation). He pointed his camera at just about everything in there and when he was satisfied with what he got, he walked up to the spot we would be standing in the not so distant future and turned back to me with a nervous smile. He waited there until I understood he wanted me to join him on The Spot. We stood side by side with our arm around each other and peered over our shoulder at the invisible crowd. It didn't seem so bad. Though I'm sure it will be different on the day when we can see everyone's faces, up close and personal.

It was an enjoyable visit. I think it was the calmest part of our day being in there. See how it looked on that grey day in November. Imagine how beautiful it will be in the beginning of summer!

Hugs and Love from Denmark XOXOXO

*"Hang a Ralf" means to take a right turn. "Hang a Louie" means take a left turn.

Mom In-law

2007-12-09T23:02:00.000-08:00

Dorthe Dalgaard Johansen was born 14 September 1941.

She worked as a translator in English, French and German for BP Gas.

This is my new Mom-in law. She is a wonderful, intelligent and kind woman that I am thrilled to be related to. She has a quiet gracefulness in her that lends to her charm and openness. She welcomed me into her home long before Søren and I were involved. Always making the rooms a little warmer when I visit, a pot of coffee to talk over and news about the landscape. Deer eating the flowers is a sign of summer; When the heather is finished blooming, Fall has arrived.

Dorthe lives at Thorsø where her father built the first part of the house, then used as a summer home, from salvaged materials after WWII; Everything from floorboards to the nails in the walls. The summer home stayed in the family after his passing and an addition to the house was built on in 1990, when the family decided to move into the expanded summer home as their residence year round. The property goes right to the lake and has a beautiful view from the back porch where summer breakfasts are held. It is where Søren and I want to hold our reception. It is a

very special place to me though I have such a short history with it. Dorthe is in her element at this beautiful place in the world...

AND She just so happens to the best petanque player around them parts.

She has won the annual championships 4 times in the last 7 years and she is running out of wall space ;-). The summertime brings a great number of her friends back into town and the nights are filled with games and wine and laughter for months.

My Father In-Law

2007-11-22T10:59:00.000-08:00

I am compelled to mention how aware I am of the difficulty in writing about loved ones past, especially when it's your father in-law. With that same honesty I have to share what little I know, though I do see him a little every day.

Early on in the apartment renovation, Søren had shown me black and white photos of his family, grandparents, and his father through many decades. I recall wavy hair and manicured moustache, broad shoulders and a benevolent smirk. WHAT a movie star he is. The stories and photos shared describe him with a twinkle in the eyes, primarily because the lights are on.

Niels Christian Johansen 1926 - 1991
Born 5 of August (The day Søren proposed to me)

N.C. worked for ØK, or East Asiatic Company as Chief Engineer on many ships, the largest being Malacca and Morelia, 20,400 horsepower, 213 meters long. He has been to, um... every port on the map apparently, so let's not waste space and span (attention!) on geography lessons (see: Denmark, A bit About).

Because of his fathers work, Søren has many nostalgic memories of the sounds of pistons and smell of engine oil. As a small child growing up on these enormous vessels, Søren was penned in on a deck or area, though more often it was to keep him from falling overboard as opposed to down a flight of stairs, and as a result, much like his predecessors, he loves sailing, being near water and has a great love of nature.

Those with an curiosity for history will be interested to know that Charles Johansen (born 1898) sailed a cargo ship during WWII and partook in smuggling Jews out of Denmark into Sweden. In his late teens, Niels Christian worked for the resistance during the German occupation of Denmark. Both he (in his adult years) and his Father were Chief Engineers by profession.

How cool is that? The men in this family are real gentlemen and have a strong sense of right. I see how Søren is with me and I know the lessons he learned from his parents stem from those principals. Gentle, patient, forgiving, diplomatic in vocabulary, broad viewed, open minded, protection of the weak and the list goes on... The sort of fellas you would invite to your round table.

When the time comes for children, Søren and I both wish that our first boy will bear his fathers name. In spirit he remains a part of our past, our present and with luck, our future.

Hugs and Love

xoxoxoxoxox

The Groom

2007-11-16T04:15:00.001-08:00

It's about time! Right? Don't think I can't hear y'all ;-)Søren's Godmother, Paula, was over last night for dinner and pointed out that there were some very obvious topics missing on this little blog; i.e.

The Groom, Mom-in-law, immediate family on both sides and with a knowing glance, perhaps an entry on godmothers wouldn't go astray either. Darling charming woman you will all get to meet in upcoming entries, but first is first! (I will be careful with the sugar)

My Fiancé:

Søren Dalgaard Johansen

Born March 9th 1969

6 foot 4 inches (195cm)

Light blue eyes

Hobbies include: Watercolor painting, photography, sailing, Danish naval history, nature

Disposition: Observative, Intelligent, Soft spoken, Strong principals, Man of his word, Kind, Thinks deeply before acting, Strong, Compassionate, Honest, and Sincere. Drinks PepsiMax like water.

We have known OF each other for about 8 years.

It's only in this last year that we made a real connection. He and I have worked for the same company, Araneum, later bought by T.E. and even later bought by Sirius IT where he works now. At Araneum and T.E. we had mutual respect and delight in working together until my departure from the company 2 years ago. In the beginning years at Araneum he sported a well trimmed upper lip caterpillar and suit, of which I have no recollection at all, so I snooped for some photos to see what I had missed. See for yourself. Now both have been discarded for a more comfortable daily routine, so seeing him in that tuxedo with tails is gonna be quite an experience for me. I'm not missing the lip fuzz ;-)

One day in August he and I made plans to go sailing on his boat. I had just started at Nordisk

Film 3 months previous. He picked me up at the gates. In my mind the world was in slow motion. Life for me at the time was difficult. My remaining in Denmark was precarious both emotionally and legally. My reason for coming to the country twisted in my heart everyday with the increasing anxiety that my lease would not be renewed, giving me 1 month to find a new place to stay for the 3rd time in as many years. Heart-broken and homesick, I walked across the drive and up to his car where he sat smiling, watching patiently.

Needless to say it went well. It was my first time out on a sailboat and I loved it. Trust and

openness were immediate and ever present with us. Throughout the next month he helped me look over papers and contracts to secure a new apartment, and throughout the year he helped everyday in making it a home. Never dipping even a toe into the waters of romance with me. Solid supporting friend- unconditional. He has been with me everyday since I moved in, October 1st 2006. He let me take my time and never pushed, never asked for more, always listening, always up for a project or a photo shoot, encouraging, supportive. It feels natural and wonderful to be together. I'm so grateful to have his love and affection, along with all his other shining facets, in my life.

I'm slow but I get there. It took me a long time before I saw what was right in front of me. It

took a short time to trust my eyes and heart once they opened.

Partners for life.

Tick Tock Big Clock

2007-11-07T01:28:00.000-08:00

Time is flying by so fast but there doesn't seem to be much progress on the wedding project lately. I have been wanting to write about an accomplishment, a great decision taken or reservation made... but no, nothing to cross off the list. All talk and questions still.

I think I turned a couple of shades of pink when I heard from Søren and my Mom that I have an attentive audience. *gulp* And I can't even see y'all there staring- I'm just talking to myself out loud. Thank Gawd I don't have to make a speech (Sorry Søren). I know the Bride CAN if she wishes, but with sweaty palms and knees shaking, I'll pass thanks- I'm crossing my fingers I can get down the aisle without tripping or staring zombie-eyed, stiff and straight ahead in concentration. I've been warned about crying unexpectedly and being stared at. I think if I take the zombie approach I won't be in too much danger there. Who knows, maybe by the time the date rolls around I will have a more calm and carefree view of the whole thing. HAHAHAHAHA!

Manic laughter is never a good sign. Get warmed up on the nervous highlights to come:

Best man speech
It takes some thought and preparation but a few notes, jokes, and jabs seem to please the crowd.

First Dance-Danish
Yes, it is a nervous affair here in Denmark. Song and dance are set by tradition. The Bride and Groom do the waltz while the guests clap and close in on the couple until they cant move- released from the crowds grip only after the newlyweds kiss. Luckily there won't be hundreds of guests attending as shown in the video of the Royal wedding.

First Dance- U.S.
It's a little different in the U.S. We just pick out a song that means something to us or that we have fun with. I guess if people are gonna be watching it's worth giving them something good to witness.

Cutting the cake
In my mind I want a food fight. I will behave, but now you know what I'm thinking in that moment ;-)

Bouquet toss
Now most bouquet tosses are enthusiastic and there might even be a little "fighting" for the catch which is a good laugh for all. The single women are suppose to want to be next in line for the big ceremony and if deep down they really don't, well, they have a lovely souvenir from the evening. I think the worst that can happen is.. well, nothing.

The Garter Toss
is more of a north American tradition but we are considering bringing it to Denmark this May.

The Ring

2007-10-26T10:49:00.000-07:00

This is the coolest ring! I love it. Søren bought it on Lauritz, an online auction service (I used the online photos for the top image). I picked it out, but wasn't entirely informed what I was choosing it for. Its main feature is a teardrop blue diamond, alongside a string of 3 I-Love-You diamonds set in white gold. The blue matches Søren's eyes exactly. It's startling and beautiful, I know. :-)

The Church

2007-10-20T02:15:00.000-07:00

This is the place we decided to hold the ceremony. We sent a request and were allotted the perfect time of 3:00 in the afternoon on May 31st- the very date I wanted. Not a June bride but getting the benefits of the weather for that time of year (I hope). I love May.

This little church has a long history. Here comes the schpeel.

Situated in Silkeborg, in the middle of Jutland, a 300 kilometer drive from Copenhagen.

Originally, the ashlar church with vaulted arches consisted of a nave and alter. It was built onto at the end of the middle ages in 1494 with a Gothic-style porch for storing weapons before entering the church. In 1703 over the west gable a small clock tower was erected to replace the earlier, now dilapidated, tower. The new tower was restored in 1776. The church bell is one of the oldest in Denmark and dates from 1250. The alter piece dates from c.1650.

I have no connection to any denomination or congregation so I leaned on Søren for a meaningful location to take our vows. Søren attended service and was confirmed here as a teen and when I saw it from the outside on our first drive by I thought, It's a cute little place with a cosy atmosphere, how wonderfully charming! Oddly enough most churches are not open on Sunday, including this one, so when we went to check it out it was locked up tight to our great and continuing disappointment. Hrumph. Next time.

The Dress

2007-10-19T15:59:00.000-07:00

The dress hunt has been going on for a while now and still I'm only in phase one. I feel I have educated myself, albeit exclusively in the category I can't afford, I still retain a feeling of accomplishment and preparedness for my efforts. Entirely online, granted- a few emails exchanged. One dress is all I have physically had contact with and it was hideous in an educating sort of way. So points to the category of dresses I need not bother. Only 99 left eh? I don't know, I suppose you could pick a greater or lesser number but I'm shooting for under double digits. I love/hate shopping. It's like that, split personality. I like low impact shopping. Let me wander, don't bug me. I'm particular.

So, the dress is ivory. It can be a warm ivory. Not pink. I like the lines in the dresses above. Fairly natural waist, long skirt- but not a trail, delicate straps, simple and elegant embellishments. Above all, flattering. I don't actually know if it suits me, but that phase 2. Here we go. Wish me good hunting.

The beginning

2007-10-16T09:38:00.000-07:00

This is where I start.

I USE computers. And I mean that in the most common sense of the word. This machine is a screwdriver- a scalpel- a vehicle- a tool I use everyday to make a living. If it breaks, I do what the rest of the world of computer users do- I call a computer person. There is a rare breed of humans that actually get high off of installing drives, reconfiguring "stuff" and the art of overclocking (among other things I do not understand- can you believe half a byte is called a nibble?!). To them I take a great bow of respect. This tool, this vehicle mah friends, drives my curiosity from place to place and I am grateful for the mobility.

Having said that, never have I had a reason to put my thoughts and interests online, on the highway for the public at large. I've tried many avenues over the years to communicate to my family and friends back home but a blog never caught my interest for one reason or another and now that I am taking a pretty big decision and am about to walk a different path (not to mention aisle... but that's coming, patience darlings) there are many things I want to say and share, and I think it's a perfect place to start.

I'm getting married.

( hold on, that still hasn't sunk in... gimme a moment)

Okay that could take a while, until then (and after) this is where the beginnings will be put. Check in on me when you're curious, when you're bored, when you need a laugh (we cry here too), if you want something to watch or get caught up in. The door is open, coffee is always on.

There's no place like home.