Welcome to Skottustelpa's page of fun and games. Skottustelpa is amazing, beautiful and incredibly talented. Everyone loves Skottustelpa. Go, Skottustelpa, go!
|
|
| Skottustelpa, The Continuing Saga Welcome to Skottustelpa's page of fun and games. Skottustelpa is amazing, beautiful and incredibly talented. Everyone loves Skottustelpa. Go, Skottustelpa, go! |
|
|
Monday, October 30, 2006 We're sick, the whole family. AB still goes to work though. My day was saved by my nefiew the Geophysisist who came and babysat my boy for a while so I could sleep for an hour. I ended up sleeping allmost three and I feel better but I still have fever. Yesterday, we got a visit from AB's sister. She brought 10 kilos of  that fell off her apple trees during the storm the other night. That was the night I caught my cold. We peeled and boiled a hell of a lot of apples for my boy to eat. (Still no psydoname for my boy on this site, he keeps changing!) Speaking of veggies, I thought I'd lead you to these posters that were designed by Ogilvy for the Danish Cancer Society.:     More on fruit posters here. These are in Dutch but in English. posted by Skotta | 5:41 PM | Friday, October 27, 2006 Darn AB got into my comics.  No movie tonight. Oh, well. We have otherwise been having quality time as a family (translates: I take care of boy, order pizza and take care of clean up while AB stays in bed and reads a comic) with conversations like: Skotta: Look, he loves his pacifier! One day we're going to have to wean him off this. AB: He'll get a Playstation 3 when he droppes the pacifier. Skotta: It might be in two years time, can you wait that long for your Playstation 3? Not that this is too unrealistic. We just read in Wired about 8 year old Victor De Leon who is known in the Halo universe as Lil Poison. He was apparently well on his way at the age of five. See article online here. So if your kid hasn't got a Playstation yet you might be too late for him to become pro in the gaming business. Nevertheless, my boy is not getting a Playstation before the age of five. I also intend to take advice from the Americans who reccommend that kids don't watch TV until after the age of 2. Watch me eat that one ... my boy, at six months, has already discovered the screen saver and loves it. Other interesting news in Wired were this one on STD's. In case you didn't know, the abbreviation NSFW stands for Not Safe For Work, meaning that you should not click on any links so marked, from your computer at work unless you want to risk loosing your job. posted by Skotta | 10:22 PM | Tired but happy. I had my first night out alone since ... since ... I can't remember. I put a new top on (very teenie, scizzor cut top with sculls) and my orange sneekers (one size too small, but hey, it's the look that counts), way too much make up and out I was to listen to my nefiew dj at Vega last night. I ended up dancing like a mad woman for 5 hours. The boy kicks ass. He is probably one of the best DJ's in the world today. Craig G dropped by, with entourage ... awesome, awesome, awesome. I haven't partied like that since New York. Haven't slept much. Miss my nefiew, miss him, miss him. And now my pizza is here and we are going to watch Hollow Man 2 afterwards. My beautiful life. posted by Skotta | 7:49 PM | Thursday, October 26, 2006 Is it full moon?  Or am I just being a mom? I seem to have gained some attitude. Today, a group of giggling boys, from the muslim private school across the street where I live, went past me and one of them threw garbage that hit me. I was biking past and I am sure it was an accident. I quickly turned my bike and caught the group who, terrified but bold, refused to apologise to me. I won't get into detail (two of their teachers arrived and tried to get them to apologize too) but I left with a feeling of being upset and with this boys question in my mind, "why am I to apologize to you, what have I done?" I kept answering: "You threw garbage at me!" Afterwards, when I was level headed again, I came up with the right answer. "Because if you throw garbage at people, even if it was an accident, you apologize. If my son threw garbage at your mother, even if it was an accident, I would expect him to apologize". My neighbourhood goes under the nickname Norrebronx. There have been shootouts around the corner from me. Now that Christiania is being cleaned out, the pushers have moved up here. I, and most parents in the hood, have a strong need to protect our kids. I think that the general feeling in the hood is that people want to live in peace and respect for each other. This is extremely difficult when you are a little kid who maybe only have a big brother to look up to, because your mom and dad don't speak Danish and neither has a job. The older brothers are big shots on the streets. It hurts my heart to think of the answer a passer by who had an opinion gave the boy, when the boy asked him "who are you? why are you asking me to apologise?" ... "Because it is the likes of you who ruin it for the rest of us!" I feel very strongly that the children in our community are our mutual responsibility. I want to teach my son to respect other human beings. I feel that I failed the boy who threw the garbage at me by not being level headed and treated him with more respect, by not saying that I understood that this might have been an accident, and not explaining properly that throwing garbage at somebody, anybody, was something that one should apologize for. Yeah, that was my adventure. On top of that I almost went into the bagle shop and shouted: "Who's bike is this that is parked right across the sidewalk!!! Are you aware that people can't pass your bike without walking on the street? What if a kid comes or a mother with a stroller?!" I let go of it and wondered if there was a full moon or if it was just my hormones reacting to the fact that I just stopped breastfeeding ... posted by Skotta | 10:05 PM | Wednesday, October 25, 2006 I'm sorry I'm not posting. I'm too busy hanging out with one of these guys. posted by Skotta | 9:14 PM | Sunday, October 15, 2006 Every morning when I wake up I promise myself that tonight I will go to bed early. Every day I yawn and think, take a nap baby, take a nap, so I can nap with you ... Every evening after my boy falls asleep I seem to find energy to hang out on the internet. I call it Grown Up Time. I had a nice little visit today that ended with a stroll in the graveyard. My Fair Friend decided to take ballet lessons and her girl hung out with me during. My boy is totally in love with his new friend. He watched her every move while she was here. Cool how babies know the difference between children and grown-ups. When a grown up visits he is not at all interested in the same way. Well, I am off to bed. posted by Skotta | 9:40 PM | Saturday, October 14, 2006 The leisure of being on maternity leave ... left me late for the Copenhagen International Film Festival last month and today I asked my mother what day it is and it turned out to be Saturday. How could I miss it being Saturday? No wonder my fair friend was online this morning instead of being at school! AB is working like a maniac these days on top of his incredible penicillin dosis. Don't ask, but this left me without a baby carriage today. I haven't left the house and I think my boy is teething. I so want candy now it is not funny. Not too good as I still look like I'm pregnant. That wasn't what I was going to go on about. I was going to tell you that the British Government's first national alcohol awareness campaign has been launched. It's called "Know Your Limits". I hope this works for them. Not nice to read that (quoting news.uk.msn.com) seven out of 10 A&E peak-time admissions are alcohol related, as are eight out of 10 pedestrian road deaths on a Friday and Saturday night. and One in three reported rapes occur when the victim has been drinking, and about half of all violent crime is booze related. I wouldn't be surprised the numbers were similar in other countries. If I didn't know better I'd wonder why is the stuff legal? posted by Skotta | 4:53 PM | Friday, October 13, 2006 Oh, another day filled with exiting activities ... Well, visited my sons grandmother last night and we spent the night. Not a biggy, we do that all the time. We practically live out there. That is why the topic of buying a house together is still on the board. I don't mind living out there, I just miss my things. We love farmor (grandma on fathers side). She is the sweetest woman alive. She has this one grandchild and she adores him. I love that he is spoiled by her. I think every child deserves a grandparent that turns it rotten. I am so firm in my belief that I am willing to go to great lengths to get my boy and his grandmother together. His other set of grandparents is in Iceland so they are only visited a couple of times a year. That makes me very, very sad so lets just not go there. You don't realize the decision you made, to live in a foreign country, until you have a child. So, grandma has the role of "woman-who-makes-up-for-50-Icelandic-family-members". I don't think she minds. Since I am so big on family I asked her to take me to the cemitery where farfar (grandpa, father side) lies. I want my boy to know where he came from. All of this reminds me of school. School?! you ask me. Yes, school. Let me tell you how. We were 22 students in my class in NY, from all over the world. One of the studies we did was on family and everybody was to make their family in clay. Afterwards each student presented his family in clay. People described different shapes and forms and colors, the dynamics between the clay figures/formes and feelings around making the piece. I think I am rememberring this correctly. It was tremendously interesting. I remember my classmate G telling about her brother and herself finding her mother murdered by an intruder, and the father never mentioning it again. Family in pieces. I also remember my classmate S telling about her family coming from 4 different nationalities and she didn't know any of them but her mother. I remember one telling about her Israeli family, another about her grandfather being lynched, another about his Hungarian heritage of depression, another about her Jewish family, another one had clay figures so complicated and screwy you just knew there was some kind of a psyche problem there ... And there was my family. My family of 9, seven in the same color, two in another color. Homogeneous was the word they gave me. The teacher said it like it was a bad thing. When the teacher said it I god this really weird/bad feeling inside. I had to look the word up to make sure I understood it correctly because I couldn't grasp how that could be an ugly thing.  I embrace my homogeneous family. We are a tight knit bunch, so genetically close that we litterally all look the same. All handsom devils and the best brains you'll find around. We are siblings and cousins in one. And we know where we come from. Where others have a family tree, we have family woods. You can say one thing about families. No two are the same. Yet they are all the same. I learned this thing from my teacher: If you are an individual who don't know where you come from, or if you have some conflict with your family, leaving you an island, it can really freak you out to encounter a homogenious group of people. A proud, loving, homogeneous group of people. All due respect. That is some cult-like scary shit. But that teacher had issues, man. Come to think of it, most of them did. posted by Skotta | 10:06 PM | Monday, October 09, 2006 Confess your miracles, said Rob Bresny 
posted by Skotta |
10:24 PM
|
Sunday, October 01, 2006 And on a more personal note: Today I had the pleasurable experience of going house hunting with AB's mother. Yes, the woman who would be my mother-in-law if we were married. You see, we have been trying to look at apartments in her hood, mainly because we want her only grandchild to be as close to her as possible. She lives in probably the most beautiful area in the Copenhagen vicinity. The prices are accordingly ridiculous. (Remind-me-to-put-my-fur-on-before-I-go-to-the-baker-ridiculous). She is not rich, by far. She has had her apartment for 30 years or so and the prices have sky-rocketed. I don't think it hit her until today when the real estate agent told her what he thought she could get for her apartment, without him even seeing it. Looking at that house was also a reality check. Me and AB have been looking at tiny apartments or apartments that nobody will buy for one reason or other. Like, because it is under the roof and the roof is caving in. Or there is a pub on the floor below. We all learned a lot today. We looked at a house together and to my surprise, my skeptic AB felt that the house was full of possibilities. So did I. I loved that. His mother, on the other hand, realized that her son, girlfriend, and baby were more willing to live in cramped space than she was. We have also learned that we wouldn't mind living together. We already spend a lot of time together and we get along brilliantly. We learned that if living together is going to happen she will have to move to a less attractive hood as a house there that would be spacious enough to please everyone is too ridiculously expensive. The funny thing is, that in a cheaper neighbourhood, me and AB can afford a whole house (and she can afford two ...) so we wouldn't need to be living together. posted by Skotta | 10:22 PM | |
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
||||
|
|
|||||