Let me be frank with you, Beans

I've been married for fourteen years and I think I'm happier now than ever in my marriage. I hope that this trend continues because I'm really enjoying our life. Here are a few things that I love about my husband.
1. That he calls our cats "bunkies". Like the four of us are holed up in some barracks somewhere.
2. That he has an amazing memory for all the obscure songs he's learned; most days he pulls one from the mental catalogue and sings it as he's getting ready for work. And then it sticks in my head all day.
3. That he thinks I'm a good dancer. He's probably the only person in the world that has seen me dance in the last ten years. And it's usually in jest....homage to the famous beat poet nightclub scene in Funny Face starring Audrey Hepburn. There's hope for the "ballet de l'inflexible" yet.
4. And speaking of dance, I love that he is one of the only guys I know who will get up on the dance floor and just let loose. I envy that. I have a video of him dancing with seven women at once at a recent wedding. He was literally the man.
5. That he spends hours on the phone with his sisters and his mom...not every day, mind you, just a few times a year.
6. That he never realizes when women are flirting with him.

More later.

Saturday morning in the driveway

Twenty-two degrees. Sunny with a slight breeze.  I'm sitting in a chair made with hockey sticks on the landing of the front steps.  My feet are up, my coffee and iPhone are beside me on a makeshift coffee table which is really a weeding bench. My husband and his friend are taking his Triumph apart in the driveway to replace the brake pads. Motorcycle ownership is a time-consuming hobby. There's a lot of cleaning of small parts and reading of the manual going on today. Wafts of citrus-scented contact cleaner are floating my way, with tiny droplets likely landing in my coffee. I never imagined that motorcycle cleaning products would be scented.  Do bikers choose the brand based on scent?  Do bikers like essence of orange? Does it soothe the savage breast?

I love my Saturday mornings. But, the enjoying of coffee and the reading of the newspaper is followed by the being overwhelmed by all the things I could and should do. So far today I've thought:  I should make focaccia, I should clean the front bay window, I should organize the Galapagos photos, I should try to find those tennis balls I bought.....and the list goes on. So, instead of doing stuff, I just write about it. Good solution.

Oslo in January

I like the cold, I replied, when friends asked why we'd go to Scandinavia in the middle of winter.  And it's true, I like to walk to work in the snow, bundled up and clutching a travel mug of hot coffee, stepping carefully so as not to slip on any ice. I like skating and skiing.  But when we planned our January trip to Norway, I wasn't really tuned into the fact that, while travelling, Bill and I like to explore on foot, which means several hours spent outside every day, not a twenty-minute walk to work followed by eight hours inside a well-heated office building, or an hour of skiing followed by hot chocolate in a chalet.  So, it was a bit of a miscalculation.  Our first full day in Oslo was bone-chilling.  Minus seventeen, more with the wind chill taken into account.  We shivered a lot and made repeated comments on how crisp it was, how invigorating.

But it did feel authentic and there sure weren't many tourists around; at the Viking Ship museum, for example, we were two of maybe a dozen.  But, boy, did we have fun!  We loved Oslo.  Lots to see and do.  Lots of  gorgeous, healthy looking Norwegians carrying skis around town....the main subway line terminates at a popular cross country skiing area, near the Holmenkollen Olympic ski jump.  Wonderful museums and history to take in.  Shops looked so inviting, cozily lit with lanterns outside and hot tea inside.  Some restaurants and bakeries optimistically provided an outdoor seating option, complete with benches covered in furs.  We did see one or two hardy couples outside, but they were smoking, so I assume it wasn't by choice.

We happily explored the city, retreating to the trams or the occasional cafe to warm up.  I say occasional because the prices were less inviting than the interiors.  One cafe latte and one chai latte plus a pastry to share = $27.  We economized by making the most of our hotel, which included a buffet breakfast and supper, the latter served up in the slope-roofed loft complete with dormer windows.  Once the sun had disappeared, we'd head back to the hotel and enjoy a dinner of fresh bread and cheese, seafood, soups,  salads and cooked eggs topped with shrimp, and desserts of custardy puddings or potato pancake "lefse" served with butter, sugar and cinnamon.  We stayed in every night, writing in our travel journals, planning the next day or watching TV, snuggled under our individual eider down comforters (no fighting for blankets in that country).  One thing about Norwegian TV:  I am not joking when I say that  most of the time when you tune in, there is ski jumping on on at least one channel.