a night to myself

husband is at swimming and then the annual meeting of his triathlon group. so i'm all on my own tonight. i love it! and so does olga. i found the quilt that husband's mother made for him by hand some 30 years ago, washed it up and put it on our bed this morning. olga fully approves. and i'm sitting in the comfy chair in the corner of the room, computer in my lap, enjoying the silence and some candlelight and the fact that i don't have to do anything but exactly what i feel like doing for the next couple of hours. 

this is where i'm sitting, in a well-loved nanna ditzel chair. i've thrown a cozy fleece over it and a cute graphic pillow from ikea. those little side tables, i found in a secondhand store. that plant is about 4x the size it was when i got it half-dead on a markdown at the grocery store during corona. i took this picture a few months ago, so right now, there are more baskets (3 to be exact) full of knitting projects at hand than you can see. when i'm done writing this, i'll probably knit and listen to a cozy mystery set in the 20s. i like lady hardcastle at the moment. i've listened to them before, but it's always comforting to listen again. in these troubled times, we have to take comfort where we can get it. 

this is the quilt that husband's mother made for him. long before my time. i never got to meet her, as she died the year before husband and i met in macedonia. but i feel like i get to know her a little bit when i look at all the beautiful details of this quilt. it's hand-quilted. the middle squares are all related to husband's life - his time in the royal lifeguard, a danish flag, an apple tree, i think there's even one that represents him and his ex, but that's ok, because it's part of his story. the squares around the outside are all traditional quilting patterns. i think she was exploring form and color - both of which i love and relate to. looking at it feels like having a little chance to know her, even though i never actually had that chance. we leave some of ourselves behind in the things we create and they can be felt by those who encounter them. 

wow, i've missed being here. i didn't even know that i thought any of that until i sat down here and started typing. amazing how leaving meta platforms has already freed my time and my thoughts for better and deeper things. what an incredibly good decision that was. i feel physically lighter and relieved. and i'm already settling into myself in a way i haven't in way too long. and even though the blog era is over, i'm happy to be here for myself again.

i bought this buttcrack character from the wonderful sandra juto. she was one of those i followed and admired and even probably felt a bit unworthy of back in the old bloggy days. she is so cool - a swede with an impeccable design sense, who moved to berlin. i never managed to get one of these guys back then, but she recently made a few again and i chose him. he's whimsical and he takes me back to that time, back when i couldn't wait to come here and write and figure out what i thought about the world. i stayed in touch with her through instagram (so there were some good things about it at one point) and found out that he was for sale there, but now, i'll just have to visit her site to find out what she's got on offer. and that's just fine. i have a lot of her wristworms as well, in a variety of colors (and i just spotted a couple of new colors that i might have to have). she's going to stop making them, so if you too would like some, you might want to pop over and get some. 

i'm impatiently awaiting the arrival of a whole lot of new weaving yarn. last week, i attended an artist talk with astrid skibsted and we made these vikleprøver (yarn windings) and after that, i got inspired for my next tea towels (think taylor swift eras tour colors). i became acquainted with astrid's work a few years ago through a project at trapholt, then i interviewed her for our podcast at work. we had a long and wonderful chat after the talk last week and i was reminded how enriched my life is by the creative people i encounter. it's no accident that both of the ones i've just mentioned (incidentally, i'm wearing some of sandra juto's wristworms in this photo), are both working with threads. maybe what the world needs right now is more threads to bind us together. 

and on that note, it's time to knit. i'm going to the states in two weeks to visit the child and my sister and some cousins and my last remaining aunt on my father's side and i need to finish at least one sophie scarf.  i will even be able to squeeze in a visit to my old bloggy friend sandra. i can't wait! 

i could work in my pyjamas every day

while i wasn't completely alone today, there was sunshine and time for a solitary walk. i also helped husband move a load of wood and getting out in the fresh air and stretching my limbs, doing something physical helped - i so often forget to reside in my body as well as my mind. aside from some hours of work (which, since i was home, i could do in my pyjamas), no one really expected anything of me. that, and the pyjamas, were very welcome. i found a little bit of time to read some more long read pieces that i'd been saving. like this one, which, like yesterday's, is also about home. and this one about anna akhmatova. what are you doing to find peace and comfort in this liminal space between christmas & new year's?

the quiet time between christmas and new year's

these long, yet all-too-short days between christmas and new year's stretch out before me, nearly half gone now. i'm working, listening to hours of interviews we've done for the podcast i'm working on at the moment. but there is also time for some long reads, like this achingly beautiful story of home and belonging by jamila osman. these dark, wintery days have that quality where time seems to slow down, after hurtling forward at breakneck speed for most of this year. i can feel that i needed that. but i can also feel that too many days of togetherness are taking their toll. i need some alone time. i find myself feeling irritable and snappy. i love my family dearly and we've laughed, eaten some good food and played cards together endlessly in recent days. but i need them to go away, just for a few hours. or i need it to stop with the relentless rain so that i can go for a long walk. to be alone in my own head, with only myself and maybe my camera for company. perhaps tomorrow it won't be raining...

alone time

being alone? how much do i love thee? let me count the ways...

~ eating spinach for dinner (i start by sauteeing an onion in butter, add spinach and a little dash of cream).
~ i can talk to the cats.
~ using cat voice (not that having other people around holds me back from that).
~ humming to myself and talking to molly in the greenhouse as i plant a few more things in pots, water and pull a few weeds.
~ listening to podcasts instead of watching television or netflix. check out the latest mini season from the heart. binge on millennial, new to the radiotopia family.

~ taking dozens of pictures of kittens.
~ mowing the lawn (while listening to the aforementioned podcasts).
~ folding the last of the laundry (the last of the laundry is such a welcome thing).
~ the privilege of a first read of a friend's novel.
~ talking to my dad in my head as i pick asparagus.

~ picking a lilac bouquet, bringing it in and enjoying the fragrance.
~ going to yoga for two hours every evening during my work week.
~ silence.
~ letting go of negativity and negative experiences...watching and physically feeling them float away in my mind's eye.
~ feeling in touch with myself, physically, emotionally, creatively and psychologically.

~ buttered radishes with a sprinkling of flaky sea salt as a snack.
~ appreciating my time together with others so much more.
~ being consciously happy.

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what do you do when you're alone?

the endless possibilities in a bit of alone time

we were talking at lunch the other day about alone time. and how utterly blissful it is. i love time alone. husband is off in copenhagen being political today. sabs is hanging out with her boyfriend. and i've got the house all to myself. and it feel so luxurious and so full of possibility. i could sew something. i could read. i could drink tea. i could experiment in the kitchen. i could paint. or stitch. or take photos of minifigures. or scan some spring flowers on my scanner. or take a nap. or pin some things on pinterest. or write. or maybe a little of everything.

what would you do if you had a whole day to yourself?

slow sunday stretches to the wee hours of tuesday

it was raining steadily, if gently, all day sunday. that was fine, as there was plenty of tidying up to do inside that's been sadly neglected as we spend all of our waking hours outdoors. the monotony of the rain and the grey skies gave the day a slowed-down feeling. the slow feeling didn't let up that much even as we spontaneously decided to watch the world cup finals, as it was an awfully long match with very little scoring. if it hadn't been for twitter, and laughing with friends, i'd have nodded off.

a rainy quiet day leaves me feeling introspective and so it was only fitting that i came across this piece on virginia wolff in the new yorker. she had this notion that there was always this place inside of us which we hide, even from ourselves. she even embraced this hiding, like a gift of sorts, a core which we keep eternally as a surprise. i'm not sure that i agree that we hide these places from ourselves so much as that we are unable to articulate them, even to ourselves. i would argue that we know very well they're there, and the keen observers of us around us sense them as well. but there is something at our core that's inarticulable (i think that's possibly a word that i just made up), something that might well be the very stuff of who we are. and we probably come closest to it when we are alone with ourselves and our own thoughts. and maybe it's even why we crave time alone, to be closer to ourselves.

one of my favorite quotes of all time is from one of barbara kingsolver's early novels (the bean trees, i think), she says, "you never know how inside of themselves people are." i think that's what virginia wolff was getting at as well and perhaps the reason she had to end it all is that she couldn't really stand the revelation of self there at her core. she couldn't face that it was as inexpressible as it is. for a writer, the inexpressible must be the very worst thing. or maybe the fear of finally expressing it and getting to the bottom of it and having no mysteries left there in the core. or just the raw, naked, stark truth of who we really are at the base of it.

see. i told you the rain made me introspective. and there are times when i just have to write these things down in order to illuminate what i really think about them. and sometimes that writing only gets me part way there. thank you for reading.

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on a lighter note...

i really love this food blog.

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and how fabulous are these moody family portraits?

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and you thought LEGO was just a toy.

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are americans really too stupid for GMO labeling?
a congressional panel thinks so.

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here is a really great and thorough account of the project i've been working on since march.
i might have mentioned that i love my job.

stedsans: late at night

i love to stay up late. the house all quiet, aside from the odd snore coming from husband in the bedroom behind me. a cat curled up in my lap on her favorite red curly sheepskin pillow (do sheep come in red?). the glow of the screen before me, a glass of wine at hand. the whole vast expanse of awesome that is the internet, just waiting for me to explore it. there are times when it feels like it would be foolish to sleep. i feel wide awake, ultra aware, open to the hum of the universe. those times are admittedly after a late afternoon venti latte macchiato, but they can actually happen on a normal basis as well. i love late nights. and on these long, light evenings, even as i write this and it's nearly midnight, there is a glow on the horizon, although it's raining outside. and that makes me want to stay up even more. i crave this time. to be alone with myself. with the words. with stories. with images. with all of those ethereal blips on my computer screen, left there by others...their thoughts, their views, their ideas, their notions of what's interesting and beautiful. i want to take them all in, touch them, chew them, swallow them, digest them into something of my own. processing, like my aging iMac, steadily, but perhaps a bit slower than at one time. but processing just the same. all by ourselves here in the night.

spoken word

spoken word by tanya davis.

i need to find a way to get more spoken word into my life.
there's going to be a salon evening, focused on women at mungo park in kolding.
i'm hoping it's a place to start.
interestingly, it's not on their website, only in an email newsletter i get.
somehow i like that. it makes it feel like it's especially for me.

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happy weekend, one and all.

just call me greta garbo

it's friday evening and i find myself blissfully alone. husband is attending a party in stavanger and the child took the train over to the other side of the country to attend a sleep-over with her best friend. so it's just me and the cats this evening. and a nice bottle of south african chenin blanc (with just a hint of voignier, as it brags on the label). and possibly a nibble or two of goat cheese.

i am in need of quiet. of my book. of my knitting. of a bit of frivolous television. i must charge up for tomorrow - an event i've been planning and working on for weeks is finally happening. there were wrenches thrown into the works all week and one big one today, but it's all ok now. i am a superwoman problem solver, despite my lack of a cape. as we say in danish, det ska nok gå. but first, a blissful evening alone. those are few and far between, but very, very welcome.

happy weekend, one and all.

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an incredible story of a family who lived isolated for 40 years in the russian taiga.

talk about self-sufficiency.

it's quiet around here

sabin is sailing.
it's endlessly raining.
it's awfully quiet around here.
i'm enjoying it less than i thought i would.

but there moments.
i get to finish whole thoughts.
all in my own head.
usually while sewing.

and that's a very luxurious thing.

i've also listened to regina spektor's far about 600 times.
because there's been no one to complain about it.
(husband has been in his workshop, listening to endlessly to eliza dolittle.)

and that's a very luxurious thing.

on friday, we'll go get her.

but in the meantime, i read this. and i'm reading this. and next i'll read this. (i'm loving the library.) you can read a lot when it's quiet.

but i'll be glad to have her back.
noise and all.

so i'm counting down 'til friday.