Easter photos

Easter: we stayed at home, but got a visit from good friends from Oslo and Bodø. Unfortunately, the weather was like this almost all easter:





Of course, with the right clothes, we COULD have been outside, playing in the snow. But our friends came to Trondheim from Oslo. In Oslo the weather had been sunny and warm, lovely spring weather. They brought spring clothes, not winter clothes.

So, most of the time, we stayed inside:



And played poker, ate good food, and had a little whisky. Which was totally fine by me:-)

The day after our friends left, we got this weather:



Typical, isn't it?

(All photos taken with my mobile phone camera.)

The Owl and the Pussy-cat

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat.
They took some honey, and plenty of money
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
'0 lovely Pussy! 0 Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!'

Pussy said to Owl, 'You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
0 let us be married! too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?'
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-Tree grows,
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose!
With a ring at the end of his nose.

'Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?' Said the Piggy, 'I will.'
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand. on the edge of the sand
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

- - Edward Lear

Photo: Soul Dirty

Giggle

You might already know about Lizzie the Lezzie, but if you don't: go check it out!

A little gossip and work

I hope you all had a great Easter! Bani has got a new baby! And such a little sweetie, go and have a look.

The Easter holidays was relaxing, because we had to stay inside so much. I'll post a few pictures soon. After I've had the next lecture, before I get a new load of essays to correct. Sigh... Right now I seriously want a normal 8-16-job! That might happen (hopefully) quite soon. I bet after a couple of months or so I'll probably miss the job I have now, and start to reminisce about the "freedom" in this job, how I decide when to work - and in the process probably forget how many weekends and nights I've worked.

I'd like a job that is both fun and interesting while you're doing it, but not stressful - a job you don't think about at all when you're not working. I wonder if that is possible?

(The photo is snatched from here.)

Rehab

Let's All Go To Rehab!
A national detox might be just the thing. Can someone bring coffee? Like, Amy Winehouse?

Maybe France could perform the intervention. All crepes and unfiltered cigarettes and disapproving glares and intriguing bondage equipment and really excellent coffee. Not much joy, but they'd sure be effective.

Or maybe Canada. Oh yes, Canada. Canada could slip on down via a giant squadron of red-and-white minivans loaded with hockey sticks and forgiving smiles and ice-cold beer, and they could sneak into our messy apartments and wait for us to come home from another insane night of reckless irresponsible Americanism, and then wham, soon as we walk in the door they slam it shut and lock it and surround us and sit us right down and pour the coffee and let us scream and flail and panic and just wait for the tears to flow.

How good we will feel, when it's all over. How healthy and rejuvenated and right.

[...]

We certainly wouldn't be the first. Hell, rehab is the thing to do. Rehab is the new black. All the celebrities are doing it, from Britney to Lindsay to Courtney, from Nicole Richie to Charlie Sheen to Robert Downey Jr. (veritably, the rehab poster child), all ducking in and out of rehab like it was a freakin' Haagen Daaz outlet in the Sahara, like it was Paris Hilton's crotch and they were an active STD. What, too graphic? Hey, it's rehab. No one said it would be pretty.

...read the rest HERE. It's Mark Morford, of course.

That column made sure that the song "Rehab", by Amy Winehouse got etched into my brain again. Damn - I thought I had moved on to Back to Black!