Four Blogs for the Price of One...

So, I did start to write the blogs, and then quickly realized why I never finished them...they are all totally random, weird and short bits that don't really justify a whole post on their own and sometimes don't even really make sense. So here they are for what it is worth. I promise I will write some better ones soon. I have a Collier cousin family reunion and a two-week trip to Sweden to visit Anders' family in the next six weeks - so really, the blogs are pretty much going to write themselves.  

Retirement Planning for Idiots

I have very few marketable skills. Knowing this, I was banking on my Rain Man-like ability to remember song lyrics to see me through retirement. I don’t remember important shit like names, birthdays, anniversaries or anything else of value really - but you can turn on any radio station and the odds are pretty high I can sing along to whatever is playing. All I need to do is hear the song once or twice, and that shit is locked in for life.

 

Growing up, I had an aunt and uncle who played hits from the 50s and 60s and super shitty country music (sorry!). To this day – if Kenny Rogers comes on, I am singing right along. And because I am from Cranbrook, anything in the glam rock or metal department is also saved. Ditto for hip hop/rap (we fancy ourselves to be pretty gangster in the ‘Brook) and most top 40 stuff from about 1970 on.

Knowing this, I had all of my retirement planning hung on that game show that was all about finishing the next line in random songs (ironically – I can’t remember what it was called). Then they went and cancelled the god-damned show and I realized that at this rate – I will be able to retire in about 2073.

My new retirement plan consists of working at my current job until they forcibly wheel my decrepit ass out and then possibly looking into Wal-Mart greeting. Or maybe dog-grooming (assuming I can still see by then).

 

Norwegians are Kind of Assholes

We are going to Sweden this summer to visit Anders’ family. In preparation for the trip, I started looking into fun stuff we could do while we are there and I stumbled across this run in Norway.

From what I could piece together (the website is mostly in Norwegian with a tiny part in English) the race is one of the only forest runs in Europe, and it happens to be going while we are there. It is also located about 25 kilometres from the town my mom was born and raised in. I thought that was all pretty cool so I went ahead and signed up for the half-marathon distance in this “scenic and undulating run through the forest” and started training.

A couple weeks ago I thought I should probably know a bit more about the course, so I started digging around. I maaaayybbee should have done this part first – or got Anders involved in translating the site before I got all excited and signed up AND emailed the organizer with a question about the race and explaining – in detail – my back story and why I am so excited to come. He emailed back just as excited and said he would be telling everyone so if there are any relatives in the area they will know we are coming. GREAT! Now I am totally committed with no way out of this without looking like a total asshole.   

Okay - back to the race and the information I found out about it…

So, if you would call a trek up the fucking Alps undulating – then yes, this course is absolutely undulating. According the elevation map I managed to find there is one hill that goes on and on – at a roughly eight per cent grade - for TWO KILOMETRES at the 16 km mark! What the hell kind of sadomasochistic asshole picked this course?

And now I am starting to have my fears about just what the hell “forest marathon” really means. Why are there only two in Europe? It sounds really charming right? A run though enchanted Norwegian forests – maybe seeing some wildlife or running along a picturesque fjord or something…so why only two? And – with the race only six weeks away - why have only like 100 people signed up?

Because I am guessing forest marathon is much like their version of undulating. I have a hunch that “forest run” probably means something a lot closer to “you will be doing this run with 10 pounds of raw hamburger shoved in your pants and we will be letting rabid timber wolves loose about 10 minutes after the race start.”

I emailed this question to the one-time super-chipper and helpful organizer, and guess what – no answer this time around which is basically just cementing my fears. I have already been vaccinated against rabies (that is another story that involves me, a huge black squirrel and a misguided Snow White recreation) but am thinking I should be looking into body armour and bear spray just to be safe.  

(*Disclaimer - I am a half-'Weege so hold the hate mail - so I am really just making fun of myself. I dont really think 'Weeges are assholes. Well - some are, but not the group as a whole. Crazy and weirdly outdoorsy - yes, assholes - no.)

 

Start Preparing – the End of the World is Near

I am pretty sure that hell has frozen over and the apocalypse has started. Do you know how I know? Anders traded-in the van.

Honest to God – he traded it in on a wagon (baby steps people – baby steps) and we pick it up on Thursday. I have seriously never been more excited about anything in my life.

If Anders hadn’t used the van as a trade in, I would be taking the week off and spending it driving the shit out of that thing. I would be spending my days hauling ass across vacant field, through river beds and up logging roads. I would be setting up shit just so I could hit it and taking jumps Duke of Hazards style – seeing just how much damage I could do to that bitch before it died.  

If I thought it was even a tiny bit appropriate (and wouldn’t be horrifyingly bad and mess up my kids for life) I would be looking at getting racy pictures taken with the wagon kind of like a shitty reality-version pinup calendar for suburban dads.

Salty – a few random and awesome overheard sentences...

“What the hell Molly?” – Max Jonsson

“Nina – if you keep acting like an asshole, Rusty won’t like you anymore.”-  Molly Jonsson

“You know – one day I am just going to let shit go completely natural and show up here totally feral.” – Female Co-worker

“Nina….NINA…NEEEEENNNNNAAAAAA!” -  Anders yelling at our totally deaf dog as she escaped from our house for the 100^th time.

“I don’t know why Nina doesn’t listen!” – Anders angry that our totally deaf dog doesn’t understand when he yells at her.  

“Hey baby – what does this look like?” – Anders gesturing to some art made out of his lunch fruit - a banana and two peaches.

“Molly – go get help – I got stuck in the vacuum…again.” – Max Jonsson

Hey honey…do you remember when we talked about…HOLY SHIT IS THAT A RAINBOW?

I am really bad at follow through. I am great at starting things – not so great at keeping them going. I was the girl in school who would have a big exam or project due the next day, but instead of getting it done, I would catch myself at like 3:00 a.m. cleaning my oven or detailing my car. Or I am the girl who started a blog and was all committed to writing on it weekly….and the realized I hadn’t updated this thing in like three months.

I was complaining to Anders yesterday that we never seem to make a decision or move forward with anything when he pointed out a pretty big insight for me.
“When was the last time we actually finished a conversation? You always get distracted and then you head off in like four different directions and we don’t decide on anything other than the fact that you and Rusty have roughly the same attention span. You do it all – the – time (extra- long pauses and over enunciation was used here – which for the record, I did not appreciate). I am lucky to have your full attention for more than 30 seconds.” 

What the hell? At first I was all pissy and indignant, but then I started to notice it. I really am a totally spun-out ADD freak. I don’t think I have finished a conversation with anyone in the last 20 years. I have half-started projects everywhere in my house. I have one foot which has been filed, buffed, creamed and polished to perfection - the other one looks like an alligator claw (hoof? paddle? fin?) on the end of my leg. I started to learn Swedish – but once I mastered a few funny pick-up lines I figured I have what I need to survive if Anders ditches my ass in a back-alley on our next trip to Sweden. 

I also have like five blog posts started – but not finished. 

So I am finishing them all (in abbreviated form) and will post them momentarily. 

In the meantime, for my Swedish friends…Vill du ha något att dricka på mitt hus? Wink wink…grrroooowwwl.