This year Christmas promised to be an experience unlike before. Everyone is making adjustments due to COVID guidelines, and I am also in a position to experience christmas as part of a family in a country outside my home. Christmas food, like Christmas in general, is big business in Norway. And while I am used to the christmasification (my blog, my word choice. Deal with it) of food in the states, it hits a whole new level here. Of course there are the christmas sodas, chips, beers, candies, and cookies, but there is a whole selection of meat advertised as christmas meats here. Now, before you say, yeah but in the states we have christmas ham... Jule means christmas in case you hadn't seen the theme yet. However, LOOK. AT. ALL. THE. MEAT! One major difference, there is no christmas turkey. That waits until New Years. I didn't have a clue what I was looking at or for last year, so with new perspective I roamed the store. I wandered like a toddler needing to touch everything and dragging the basket aimlessly behind me while he buzzed here and there and tossing things in the basket at random intervals until I became so absorbed in my gawking that he revoked my basket driving privileges. Who can blame me though? It isn't like I am used to seeing...canned corn on the cob. Go back to the pictures if you missed it! Where to begin with the christmas feasting? We can begin with the food we (thankfully) skipped because after all, there was just the two of us. Pinnekjøtt gives me pause every time I see it. Pinnekjøtt is cured lamb, and it sits in all its glory on the aisle end caps. At times you can see the bags are slightly bloated with air, and the meat itself looks as if it were stripped straight off of a zombie. Although, I have been assured that it tastes wonderful, I am happy to wait a year for it. It is important to note that Christmas dinner occurs on December 24th as an evening meal. In families with children, Santa will show up to hand out presents at some point after dinner. Preparation for Christmas dinner began the day before, and even breakfast on the 24th was a rice porridge that would be used to make a dessert later. Christmas day, still talking about the 24th, was spent visiting family, delivering gifts, and doing any last minute shopping for food for the meal. Our dinner was ribbe, boiled potatoes with sauce, and sauerkraut. The closest explanation I can find for ribbe is pork belly with the ribs attached. The way it is finished in the oven means the fat is crispy like cracklins/pork rinds. When I asked why whole boiled potatoes instead of mashed, I was told that this was to let the potatoes soak up the flavor of the sauce better. For the sauce, you can even buy a tube of ribbe fat to give it extra flavor. We don't use the word gravy, so the sauce was poured over the potatoes and gave a wonderful salty depth. The sauerkraut was sweeter than any I had tasted before, but I really enjoyed the balance of sweetness of the apples with the sour of the vinegar. Of course, I ate too much, but I still managed to push down some riskrem which is similar to a rice pudding with whipped cream folded in and topped with a raspberry sauce. Dinner was amazing but there is still one thing I don't understand. How do men just sit and watch the women cook or occupy themselves elsewhere only to appear when food hits the table? I felt so awkward watching NBF cook, even though he did find small jobs for me. By the way, he has the cutest christmas table settings. Sorry you didn't see a full plate, but I got caught up in the excitement of wanting to taste everything. Since there are still kids living at home, I tried not to give too much input into christmas decorations or food, but rather I chose to just enjoy the experience and tell my own traditions or habits. I learned how to make risboller at the request of one of the kids and got to try Berlin wreaths because those are a favorite of NBF. School crafted christmas decorations were given a place of honor, and family christmas decor was placed carefully around the house as well. This year christmas meant a real tree too! I haven't had a real tree in a long time because BAH had an allergic reaction, so we bought an artificial tree and never looked back. It was a fun experience to go and choose a tree with NBF, and I am happy to report it was not a Griswold experience when we unwrapped it. As I sat and watched as NBF and the youngling decorate the tree with ornaments both store bought and homemade, I realized how truly thankful I am for the meaning behind all the ornaments my boys have. My addition was a pair of glass dumpap that I purchased at the glass factory we toured. Next year, though, we will have more personal ornaments than generic red baubles and snowflakes hanging on the tree. Even though Christmas wasn't white, we did get a good dousing of snow a couple days later. I talked NBF into two walks so I could take photos and of course play in the snow. There is something magical to me about walking in snowy woods. Often I find myself stumbling because I am so caught up in looking around. He laughs and tells me I am like a toddler, but I continue to lay in the snow to capture photos, catch snow on my tongue, and make ALL the first footprints. The only time he seemed worried was when he saw I meant to climb up on an uprooted tree to take photographs. I am sure he thinks it's a wonder I don't fall and bust my ass more often, but in fairness, I did warn him before we met that I'm clumsy AF. I really do enjoy the companionship on the walks and sharing those special moments with him. In case you are wondering from the photos, we don't walk THAT late. The sun just sets a little earlier here. The good news is, the solstice has passed so we are already getting more sunlight. All in all, I would say Christmas has been a great success, and again I find I am feeling lucky to be exactly where I am right now.
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Talking with AB and she says, "You of all people I know NEED your own space." She's right. Boundaries. It's a foreign concept for me and work in progress. I am perfectly accepting of fences and doors. I even admire people that can limit work to acceptable hours, establishing a clear boundary between work and home. Defining and setting my own has not always been so easy, and it is something I am still tweaking.
See, here's the thing, when you have an overbearing parent you will bend yourself into any shape to ensure peace and avoid the angry outbursts. There is no sacrifice too great when you have witnessed the resulting rage and born the brunt of that. The price tag for this survival strategy is your own personal boundaries. So long as a person is in the habit of sacrificing their own happiness, space, and well being, it is near impossible to learn to set boundaries. The pairing issue of a control freak parent is that they claim the boundaries you don't give freely, essentially usurping your rights to the most fundamental of boundaries. Growing up, I shared a bedroom with my two sisters who were five and six years younger than myself. We shared a small space and of course that meant all of my personal belongings were at risk. Not only that, we showered together until I was old enough to be uncomfortable and embarrassed. These infringements on my personal space were done in the name of economics. But it doesn't stop there. My mom read my diary and limited my access to friends that "gave me ideas". She manipulated my relationships with other family members and people leaving me not only with the inability to establish boundaries but a warped sense of what setting boundaries actually entailed. This left me vulnerable to a marriage where I was treated in much the same way. My phone bill was scrutinized and if that search was unsatisfactory, the phone itself was gone through. I had normalized accounting for every minute of my day especially if there were any times when I was unable to take a phone call. One time he even attended college with me so he could meet the people that he had seen pictures of in my phone. Still through all this, I kept small pieces of resistance in my heart. Even if I was not always able to clearly articulate what exactly it was I was resisting, it held fast, waiting for its turn to be nurtured. I have always struggled to keep balance in my life. I dive into hobbies, work, and nearly every endeavor both feet first. I pour myself into any role I am asked or volunteer to assume. Did you realize that the power grabs of control stem from lack of boundaries? I didn't for a long time. I just knew that I needed control of at least something, and I had to start externally. That was all I felt like I could control. Boy Scouts need help? Okay, I can lead two groups. School needs help because they lost an aide? Count me in. Kids want mom to make some muffins? I will make some mother fucking muffins. I can control ALL the things. But...I still couldn't set boundaries. Sure I was in charge of how I spent my time, but I never said no. Then I had a nervous breakdown and was hospitalized. I was forced to start taking inventory of what the hell I was actually doing with my life and began behaving in what I considered an extremely selfish manner. I have since learned that loving and prioritizing myself isn't selfish, it is necessary. I don't mean to paint this as an epiphany because in truth it took working myself into the ground, gaining a lot of weight, and considering returning to my ex before I saw that I really needed to make better efforts to set boundaries and care for myself fully. Fast forward some years of practice, and I no longer stay at work for 12-14 hours a day. I recognize my stress for what it is and don't let it fester. I have learned to live alone happily taking as much space as I need. So why talk about boundaries and space now? He asked me to help him pick out chairs for his house. While I may have a firm grip on setting boundaries, I may never tame my overthinking. Pick out chairs, okay but what if I find out he has atrocious taste in furnishings? What if I do?? Chairs are furniture, like a long lasting reminder. He will always know who helped him choose...even if we don't last as long as the chairs. Holy shit, am I ready to pick out furniture? What will he want next? Hopefully the walls because there is enough grey here, but seriously, are we moving toward one household? If we establish "us" in HIS house, what do I have to give up? Can I stop calling it his house? So. Many. Questions. You know what the real nagging issue here is? Nellie's space. I am peering over the edge and watching carefully. I know how fiercely I will defend my hard won boundaries and space, while at the same time, I know I am looking into the eyes of someone who has no interest in taming or taking. I find myself needing to redefine boundaries and space but from a completely different viewpoint and with a person I trust to respect and help instead of destroy and conquer. Or quite possibly, we'll just pick out some fabric, be our normal goofy selves, and I will bully him on Facebook for it. No boundaries will be broached. No space conquered. And I will enjoy this moment for what it is and draw a clear boundary between the past and now. One of my fondest memories of Christmas with my boys is buying them a hot chocolate and driving through the Isle of Lights or even around town to look at the displays. I am not one who enjoys the synchronized musical displays of electrical excess but I do enjoy the creative expressions of the spirit of the season. Here in Norway there are very few over the top Christmas displays. Most homes will have simple decoration including some sort of lights or stars in the windows and a tree outside. I find these simple decorations to be beautiful, in fact, possibly more beautiful than the norm in the states. This weekend, a conversation about that memory inspired an impromptu trip to Hadeland Glassverk. While there weren't many lights, the trip did not disappoint. Our drive was snowy but not the icy dangerous type of trip that has you digging your nails into the armrest. I watched snow settle into the branches of the trees while clouds obscured the hilltops all the while soaking in the peaceful feelings in my heart. When we arrived at the glass factory, it reminded me more of a village than a factory. You could tell they capitalized on tourists but still it felt homey and quaint. There were small shops where you could purchase candies, honey, and coffee. An indoor skating rink buzzed with energy and a small Christmas market tempted shoppers inside. Several shops were selling the glass products, and of course, you could tour the factory to see glass blowing in progress. Approaching the main entrance, it quickly becomes apparent that you will need to stay a couple of hours to see everything, but I was hooked from the moment my eyes fell on the decorated train engine. The waffle house with gingerbread decorations and a cozy seating area just pulled me further along. Our first stop was a cozy store that sold all kinds of treats, coffee, tea, and chocolates. Although I remain appalled at the thought of calling licorices delicious and equally appalled at wrapping it in chocolate, there were salted caramel spoons for coffee and a wonderful array of treats I wanted to buy. We decided to return to that store later. The rest of the morning is a blur of beautiful baubles and glass bent and blown into amazing sculptures, plates, glasses, and even snowflakes. We stopped at a cozy coffee shop and chatted about the history of the place. It turns out that this place is also the place that has NBF on call every fifth or sixth weekend, so he was full of information. Even the light fixtures are created at the factory, and in this coffee shop, the lights were shaped like canning jars. I was looking at the logo on the jars and was marvelling how similar it was to Ball jars in the states. Little things like that bring up wonderful memories. Then walking out the door I caught sight of the scenery. Sigh...this place. He laughed about how he brings me to an awesome place and I just want pictures of outside. In my defense, we were at the end of a fjord. Another highlight of the day was seeing an art display by my favorite Norwegian artist, Lisa Aisato. I was introduced to her work by Hanne when she gave me a book for my birthday. The art is powerful and full of life and emotions. You can see more here. It is probably a good thing the prints were already sold, or I would have gone home with one. We wandered and marvelled at all the wonderful craftsmanship. We saw Santa, but left him for the kids. There was a huge string light sculpture that I was convinced would make the perfect picture if only NBF climbed inside. He was not convinced. The only thing we didn't see was glass blowing in action though we did catch a peek of some shaping happening. It was a lot to soak in, and I am sure I missed as much as I saw. I wanted to come home with so many things but in the end, the cheap ass won out. Perhaps next weekend I will be more tempted. Even though he may not realize it, one of the best parts of the day was going home before the place got too busy. We went back to the candy store, but I am sure he could see how anxious I was. He just casually said, "Let's wait. We can come back next weekend." I absolutely love that I don't have to justify or advocate for that part of myself that simply cannot deal with crowds. I also love that he holds the weight of that like it was his decision that we leave and not "because of me". While we missed the darkness for seeing lights, we agreed to go back next weekend at a different time of day. This will be a more focused trip as we know what we want. So we will go to he shops we need to visit instead of taking the time to mill around. Seeing the lights will be a bonus. Plus, I really need to see if I can talk him into getting inside the lighted ornament!
Walking in the woods when there is a thin blanket of snow gives a person time to reflect and really listen. There isn't much else to hear but your own thoughts. It is common for me to stop and look at any little thing that interests me or snap photos of sights I want to visit again later. This weekend I got to take a couple of short walks and soak up the brisk air and the view. Lately the thoughts have been heavy, but I am never alone on these walks. I let my heart talk to AB and of course, I have NBF to chatter away. We joke about me being a "loud American tourist," but I'm convinced I am not the loud one. Much of what I have learned about him comes from these walks when he will see something that blows the dust from old memories. Just this last weekend I realized I am not the only mother that earned each gray hair from raising boys with more sense of adventure than self preservation. Who decides to "ski" down a hill holding onto a car fender anyway? I still walk by myself as well. The days are shorter, so you really have to be organized and prioritize your day to get outside in the light. My last walk was during a period known as blue hour. For my fellow nerds: The blue hour is the period of twilight when the sun is at a significant depth below the horizon and residual, indirect sunlight takes on a predominantly blue shade, which differs from the one visible during most of a clear day, which is caused by Rayleigh scattering. When I got back to the house, I was informed that during blue hour the blue nisser would come out. While I didn't see any nisser, I saw really beautiful scenery. The sky in Norway fascinates me. There are times you can see the sun and moon at ten and two. When the sun sets, if you look to the opposite horizon, you will see hints and flares of pinks and purples. While Kansas sunsets are gorgeous, Norwegian sunsets are equally stunning even though the color palette is a bit different. It's also during my walks when I process a lot of life. I can feel the Decembers of the past trying to creep in this year. It would be easy to give in to the darkness some days, but I know where that path leads. Probably the best sign of progress is how much my brain is tossing in the mix to pull me back to those old habits. As bizarre as it sounds, I find it fascinating that the brain is more comfortable in old shitty but known patterns than healthy, less known routines.
There can be no doubt there is extra pressure from the pandemic, but being an introvert, the COVID guidelines are more of a comfort zone for me than most people. There is also pressure from my new job, but I thrive on mental challenges like that, so there is comfort there as well. Although it does allow my brain to wander into the "What will they do when they find out you're not really as good as they think?" thought patterns. I'm weighted with knowing that I must soak up all the picture sharing and conversations with AB that I can. And I still continue to be plagued by the intensity of the mental gymnastics of my relationship with NBF. Honestly, the quiet walks in fog, snow, and dark where I can lose sight of some of the invasive thoughts in the haze are the best for me. I think, reflect, ponder, adjust, and feel exhausted with myself. But, every so often I will hit a place in the walk that takes my breath and mind. The pause of those places is palpable, and the presence of myself is unmistakable and so very necessary for peace. Seeing the stars through a break in the clouds in the darkest of evenings, feeling the gentle sting of snow falling on my face, and the first breath after you top a hill to see the view...those are the moments I mean. In those moments I tighten my grasp on the reality and clarity so they can be my foundation, and I let loose of anger and doubt because I can't hold it all. And I breathe. Somedays, the focus is on steps or flight goals. Somedays it is about exercising pets. Somedays, it's just getting to and from work. But everyday, it is about a better me. So many miles and so much healing. I am elated that I found this out about myself, and I am tickled that I get to take such wonderful sights in along the way. So I will take a page from Dory's playbook and just keep walking. Just keep walking, walking. But also, I will just keep learning, learning. |
Nellie HillJust a woman leaping outside her comfort zone and telling the tale. Archives
April 2024
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