Welcome to Skottustelpa's page of fun and games. Skottustelpa is amazing, beautiful and incredibly talented. Everyone loves Skottustelpa. Go, Skottustelpa, go!
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| 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! |
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Tuesday, April 25, 2006 Happy Tired. Slowly catching up on my sleep, but not quite there yet. Baby was a week old when I nursed him last night. We are still in our safety bubble ... I get the urge to blog during my hora of peace, which is now my Skottustelpa Time. Time for Skotta girl to be just Skotta. Eat breakfast and blog. I don't have time to both blog and answer mails so today I am posting excerpts from my letter to my girlfriend in Austin, Texas, with some editing: I can't guarantee you 3 hours 15 but I got some great help from my sister in Iceland, whom I called in the middle of things. She kind of "birth coached" me through a few of the contractions. My advice, as always in life, if you wan't good technique, ask someone with experience, strenght, and hope. Out for a walk is not really happening so often after only a week. I went out for a walk yesterday, up to the hospital for a routine check blood test. Baby was pricked in the heel. When I came home, the "baby nurse" was waiting for us. This is service all babies get in Denmark, a specialized nurse comes in and weighes the baby, does minor exams, and gives good advice. Ours kicks ass. She gave me and AB a big scolding for taking such a long walk the first time. I am to take it easy and do as I am told. I made it back and forth but the trip home was loooong, with a few stops on the way. I am unbelievable lucky. Nature seems to have made me for making babies and I am healing well. You are not reaching me by phone because we have turned them off. Two reasons: We need the peace, and I fell to thousand little pieces as soon as I came home. It was lovely to be able to talk to the nurse about it when she came yesterday. I didn't expect it. AB did because he had been warned. Superbalanced me thought, nonsense. I am too balanced to get a breakdown after the birth. Well, I did. I cried and cried, and I felt hopeless and no good. I was definetly a failure of a mother. I was scared to pieces that I wouldn't bond with my baby. I had four days of crying. I cried over everything. I cried from happiness, I cried when he cried. I don't think it is over, I can definetly cry some more. Nurse said that the intensity of my "third day blues" (which many women get) was probably because I knew all along that the birth was potentially a "high risk birth" and that I had most likely held a lot in. The relief is coming out. She is right. I had talks with AB before the birth about not panicking if I was suddenly rushed to the operating room if I couldn't give birth to my placenta. We knew that there was a risk that I would loose a lot of blood. That we were not to be afraid, they just rushed because things had to happen fast. That he was to take the baby and hold him tight. The first couple of days I held my distance from my baby, I fed him and gave him over to AB. AB was much better at consoling him than I was. "Here, take this foreign human being, I'm going out to put lipstick on. Have to meet the guests and tell them how I popped him out in 3 hours 15". I didn't sleep and I got tense and I got headaches. Well, don't let this scare you off. It is all normal. Turns out many women take their time to adjust to this over night change in their lives. They even told me about it but somehow it didn't register. And me and the baby are totally bonding. This baby boy went for his mother and insisted on her mother instincts. Turns out I am as perfect of a mother as I was perfect at being pregnant. I love him more than life to the point that I have felt an urge to put him inside of me again. He is just so little and fragile and I felt I could protect him much better when he was inside my belly. My homegirl in New York used to call this "eating her young" and called her husband at work daily to tell "I didn't eat the baby today". Or at least I think these are some of the feelings she was referring to. We are regaining balance. We think. We are staying in our safety bubble until we are sure. So no phone calls and no visitors for now. I'll let you know when we are back on track. The boy does what he is supposed to. He eats, he sleeps, he eats, he sleeps, he eats, he sleeps. Beautiful baby. Okay, my hour of peace is soon up and I have to get the food station ready. I will try to blog once in a while. It is therapeutic for me and it informs my friends and family in Iceland how I am doing. So, to the rest of you out there ... for further updates and eventually some more fund and games, keep reading me here because I am not writing any personal mails at the moment. Love to you all. Skotta posted by Skotta | 9:57 AM | Blog from day 1 after birth: It was suggested that I'd write something down at the hospital because things wouldn't be as clear in my mind when I came home. As I am writing this, with the help of something as classic as a ball pen, on a bed next to mine there lies AB asleep with baby boy Speedy Gonzales on his stomach. Both are sleeping. It turns out our little one is not a morning person like the mother, but very awake during the evening and night. Father is snorking a little, boy is making baby sounds through his sleep. Daddy has his hand on baby's head. It fits in his palm. And here's to the ladies! Born April 17th, 2006, at 5:15 AM, after only 3 hours and 15 minutes of labour. I told my friends and family that I learned something about heroes last night, and that I was not one of them. Heroes are the women who are in labor for hours and hours. I can understand now that first timers, like me, go into baby making because they just don't know better. But having more!? I can't believe my mother did this 7 times! My sister, who basically got me through the contractions, and whom I was tempted to take with me on my mobile phone through labour, she did this 5 times! And my friend, who was 72 hours in labour with her first and 6 days in a coma afterwards, she had two more! Honestly, women are heroes for maintaining human kind. I relate now, when I reacall the guilt trip joke from American movies, when a woman stands over a grown up and say's: "THIS YOU DO TO YOUR MOTHER! I GAVE BIRTH TO YOU AND DON'T YOU FORGET IT!." Sure, I'd do it again. I think. Right now I am getting to know him and resisting feeling jealous that this body stole my head's spot on AB's chest. At the same time, I don't want him to want to lie there. I want him with me. posted by Skotta | 9:39 AM | Thursday, April 20, 2006 Dearest everyone. Most of you have heard that my baby boy came to the world on the night of the 17th. He is doing really well. We are exhausted so we unplugged the phones and turned off our cells. So, if anybody is trying to reach us by phone, please don't worry if we don't answer. We are just being taught by a little man how to put our priorities straight. We are not answering mails, sms', or phone right now, and we are taking a break from having visitors. It suddenly dawned upon us that of the past 4 nights, we have experienced birth and no sleep the first, little sleep and lots of amazement the next two, and then a very confusing third ... with almost no sleep. The boy is doing amazingly considering his confused parents. Mommy is on an emotional roller coaster. The whole thing has been very confusing and weird. Funny to bring him home, like suddenly realizing that he didn't belong to the hospital. And now he is awake so I have work to do. posted by Skotta | 9:45 PM | Monday, April 17, 2006 Nope, nothing's happening. posted by Skotta | 12:31 AM | Saturday, April 15, 2006 Here is what happens to you when you are in bed at 1 AM, up around 5 AM and still trying to get tired enough for your second nap at 7 AM. I found this test on my friends MySpace page:
I got an extra question because there was a tie between Buddhism and Satanism. Beat that. posted by Skotta | 6:53 AM | I take it back. I am moved by art. AB and I took a ride yesterday and went to Louisiana. The current exhibit there has works by Bill Viola.  You have to be numb not to feel something faced with the work of this man. posted by Skotta | 6:15 AM | Friday, April 14, 2006 They say that some pregnant women get an extra boost of energy on the day they give birth. Some start doing their floors, others putting up drapes ... I think I just had my energy boost ... in my sleep. Last night I was so busy! I was a fireman putting out a fire. I was working with some guy who was so insecure about the whole fireman business that I decided to wake up and not have that dream anymore. I was a darned good fireman, did everything right. Next dream I was helping out at a big fair. I had a beautiful white vitage dress on (1950's style), with blue embroidery.  I ended up being invited to eat dinner with some people and was asked to give a hand making ready. I discovered that all the chairs and plates were covered in mud and had to be cleaned. I gathered some people and put them to work, instructed them to hose down the chairs and clean everything with cloths. I had more dreams, one where I am flying on the most weird transport one could imagine. When I googled transport I came up with this. There were more, there were more. One where I was irritated because I wasn't supposed to bike because of my pregnancy. I wondered if I could get away with it or if people would freak because I am past my due date. You are welcome to go all Freudian on me and start interpreting, but I am afraid it doesn't mean anything except that I am sleeping better. AB is home at night now, paternity leave has started and period of working like a maniac is over. I am keeping myself busy as I am now, in pregnant language, 40+1. Sleeping better means less contractions. Nothing is happening. So if you call me, no, I am not at the hospital, I am out partying with my buddies. I refuse to stay home and wait for this little man to show. posted by Skotta | 6:43 AM | Wednesday, April 12, 2006 A blogger I read, Maggabest (IS) wrote on Sunday that word, litterature, visual art, movies or other artforms, if good, buzzed in the conciousness for a long time after you heard/saw it, followed by a change in you, even a tiny one. I used to agree with her, and I think that I still do, yet not quite. I am one of those strange people with degrees in art who then end up actually feeling that the whole visual arts business is the most meaningless thing in the world. Not much art influences me these days. Psychology ruined a lot for me. I am one of the quickest people through a museum exhibit. I have a very defined taste and waist little time in what doesn't interest me. I don't get moved by a calf sewn in half or a painting of the Madonna with elefant dung. I find no excitement in a tent with a dirty matress with the names of all the artists lovers embroidered in the ceilings and walls. Those artworks were a part of the exhibit Sensation, parts of the Saatchi collection that toured the world after 1997. That exhibit shocked a large part of Britain, and probably a bigger part of the world. At least the Maddona was attacked with a knife. I guess that culture, time and place, decides the movement art causes in people. Now, in 2006, almost a decade later, I feel that I haven't seen much new and inspireing art that has buzzed in my conciousness or made a change in me, even a tiny one. In the past couple of years I have not gone out to look for it and it hasn't reached me through other channels. That is sad. I guess I overdosed on bad art. Funny enough, art made a huge change in my once. When I got confirmed I got a book called Nylistasaga Fjolva (Fjolvi publishing's modern art history book). As so many others I had learned that art was a landscape painting. My beloved uncle was a painter and I grew up with his colors all around me. The modern art history book showed, amongst other things, a statue of a huge woman with a shopping chart, by Duane Hanson.  This book blew my mind. I was going to become an artist. I had taken classes already from 1984 and been messing with the stuff ever since I could remember but this book was really the one that got me determined that the world of art needed further research. It felt, even then, like a huge playground for grown ups. Other artwork that moved me and buzzed in my conciousness that year were the paintings I saw at Skagens Museum here in Denmark. The romantic scenes didn't move me as much as the depth in the portraits of Michael Ancher and P.S. Kroyer. My favorite artwork was always sculptures, installations, and performances, that required audience participation so that became the work I moved towards. I recalled this the other night after watching "The Element of Crime" with AB. I am not going to review the movie, but tell you rather that at the age of 15, AB dragged his friend to the Bellevue Theater to see it. AB was to pick an internship placement, and this movie kind of did it for him. AB got so moved by this film that he has been working in the visual media ever since. One can get moved quite far in puberty. Art doesn't move me anymore. Other things move me now. People influence me a lot. I still believe that the point of life is to interact with others. I have no purpose in life unless I make a difference for another human being, no matter how small that difference is. I don't believe I have ever been able to do that as directly with my artwork as I have been using myself as a human. Ask anyone who has ever had to use what they learned in first aid class. I still get moved by movies and I get moved by music. Great music has moved me through the years. Which reminds me. I have to play AB some Pixies. He missed out on the Pixies, probably because he was busy being a genious film maker. So, with bookshelves filled with books on art, artist, and exhibition catalogues from all over the world, I dare not say that art is pointless. The point I had making it myself is long gone and the sensation of "new" things has dwelled. I do think art is in many ways juvenile and ego centric and almost all of it done for masterbational purposes and shock value. Even this guy; (and now we are at the part where fun and games come into the post ...) Evaristti, doesn't move me. His latest is making meatballs from his own fat. Love his photo on the can though but it won't buzz in my conciousness nor change me or my life a tiny bit. For further info, this artist also has exhibited goldfish in blenders. Classically, his retrospective exhibit is entitled "Ten Years of Confrontation". posted by Skotta | 6:15 AM | Tuesday, April 11, 2006 Sugar and spice and everything strawberry.  I guess I am having a craving. I woke up this morning and wanted a strawberry smoothie. Went to the supermarket with AB and bought frozen strawberries, strawberry-orange juice, and two cans of strawberry sorbet. When we came home, with sushi and the works, AB did a toothpaste stunt with the Sex and the City DVD that got season one, cd 2, working. Then he went to work. I have to give it to the guy, he is Mr. Wonderful. The day has been spent spoiling me and making sure I'd be entertained while he works a bit this evening. He even drove me out to the sea today and bought me ice cream. I am not that hard to please, he would have done just fine with the drive to the beach. The sushi was a total luxury. Now, for the record, spoling me is a good thing. I once had to clear with my girl in New York that my interpretation of the word spoiled is not spoiled as in ruined, but spoiled as in carried, being cared for, taken care of, flattered, totally in the nicest way possible. AB's way of spoiling me is definetly not going to get me all rotten. It makes me feel worth it. And right now, when I am huge and don't feel beautiful at all ... I still feel good. Not because of sushi. Because someone bothers. Actually, everyone is spoiling me these days. My girlfriends are spoiling me. Our families are really attentive and exited. And today I got, after 10 hours of sleep in two rounds (making up for a couple of sleep starved nights), a trip to the supermarket with all the hugging and kissing that includes (yes, I know we're special), a ride out to Skovshoved beach where I got ice cream and loads of fresh air and closeness to the sea, take out sushi and edamame beans on the way home, and finally Sex and the City downed with a can of strawberry ice cream. And as a bonus, probably due to the 10 hour sleep, I have had a day with less contractions than I have had in a while. You know though why I really love AB? Because yesterday I became really sad over a very superficial thing and this morning he made it all better. posted by Skotta | 10:15 PM | I have linked to her homepage before, but now she's on MySpace. As she writes in her profile: "This Incredible Icelandic artist is one of a kind." I am very fond of the song Come on Viktor. Thanks to Vjefrjett for pointing out this link! Otherwise, no news. posted by Skotta | 7:38 PM | Sunday, April 09, 2006 I seem to be constantly waiting for two guys this week. One being AB who told me a while back that he'd start his paternity leave last Wednesday, the other being Mr. Adorable (whom I am not 100% sure will hold that title) who is tumbling around in my belly. Well, I realized today that AB is going to be working until Mr. Adorable decides to show his face. No last days of boyfriend-girlfriend time like I had secretly dreamed of. I am therefor going to be surfing and blogging a great deal more. I am due Thursday and am probably going to go a few days over unless God decided to be extra good to me. God has just been so extremely generous over the past couple of years, I am making no demands. I'll be huge as long as nature intends me to. It hurts to move. I am not going to be doing any stunts to try to provoke the birth. I just wrote to my girl in NY that if my body tells me to stay put, I am sure as hell staying put. Listening to the body is one of those abilities I imagine us moderns having lost, but the cave men having totally mastered. What do I know, stress has probably always been there. Well, anyways. Surfing this evening got me this knowledge: Playboy Hugh Hefner turned 80 today.  The man has 3 girlfriends. Most people I know feel that a relationship with one partner at a time is complicated enough. Actually, loads of people I know can't even figure out maintaining a relationship! Ask my friends if finding a partner is easy these days. Well, I guess my friends have one thing in common, a little slogan I learned a while back from a very wise woman who got it from a very wise man: If you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything. I can't say for sure but I am ruthless enough to assume that Hugh's partner criteria is quite less detailed than my friends. Being picky makes things a little more complicated. Like, wanting your 80 year old boyfriend to date you only. But hell, less picky and you get a pajama party on his 80th birthday and a reality show with his two other girlfriends! I haven't reserched this but at a glance one might jump to the conclusion that Hugh's criteria for partner is "blond". Meet Holly, Kendra, and Bridget. And no, I don't know which one is wich.  Hey, I'm not judging! Some of my friends are blonds. And most of those are Icelandic which means almost coming from the same egg! Whatever. Hugh isn't the only one rounding a good number. The TV show I Dream of Jeannie has a 40 year anniversary.  I have blogged about this show before, it's adorable. The special effects were great for the time. Larry Hagman and Barbara Eden are acting together again today in a play called "Love Letters" by A. R. Gurney. The main news are that I dream of Jeannie 1st season, is out on DVD now. Might have to get my hands on that. What else? Oh, yeah. The baby has a bed now. We went out and bought it yesterday. AB assembled it and it is big and sturdy. Fills up the closet sized nursery. The bed was actually so big that we didn't think we'd get it into the car. Then we rememberred that we only had to push a button and the roof of the car wen't down. Bed on the back seat, roof up again! posted by Skotta | 11:30 PM | Two things. I have made a hole in my Easter egg and eaten all the candy from inside. I made the hole in the back so I can still place it up against the wall without anyone noticing that I have started eating it. I got the saying "Betra er ad jata sannri sok en neita" which means that it is smarter to admit to proven guilt than deny it (roughly translated and interpreted by me). So I'll admit to having eaten the back of my egg if someone notices. The other thing is this guy, Matisyahu, who has gotten me homesick for Brooklyn. Got to know him through an article in Politiken, one of the Danish news papers. Halli probably knows of this guy, but Sveimhugi and Hypnotoad might not. Steinrikur most definetly doesn't and will totally dig this guy too. His video's got me thinking: "Only Brooklyn can breed this stuff ... " Man, I miss Brooklyn. So, enjoy! posted by Skotta | 6:55 PM | Saturday, April 08, 2006 6:20 AM I might as well eat breakfast. Dawn is here. There is no food in the house so I am eating  Kanelgifler. Sorry, AB, I know you're going to squirm when you read this, but yes, this is my breakfast. We are going shopping today and then I am back on fruits and veggies and other healthy stuff. AB suggested, before he passed out yesterday afternoon after working through 24 hours, that we'd eat breakfast at O's this morning. He said he wanted some corn bread. Corn bread got me thinking about the phone call I got from my girl in Texas the other day. I also spoke to her man, her now husband, who is just as dear to me as she is. Some cultural differences came up in the conversation. They are saving up for a house and then planning a baby. I was saying, go ahead, start the babymaking, the baby doesn't care if it lives in a house! I am pregnant, have no house and not even married yet. Although there is nothing abnormal with my situation here (I actually don't know anyone who got married first and pregnant later, of the ones I know in the business) it is not really a desirable situation to be in, in the US. It therefor warmed my heart when he asked me seriously if AB at least had any plans to make me an honorable woman. posted by Skotta | 6:21 AM | Another blogger I enjoy reading, (Armann (IS)), asked a wile back in a post written March 29th, about a character called Goggur Glaenefur. He needed an immediate answer to this and I immedately needed to give him one. He has no comments column and I don't know him so I couldn't send him mail. And I'm shy. He probably has an answer by now but I haven't been able to fully let go of my need to tell him. You see, I have this book about this bird, Goggur Glaenefur. It is missing the cover but all the pages of the story are there. The illustrations are lively and the story charming. I am missing the cover pages so I don't know the author nor illustrator, and I can't find an original title. I gave up trying to Goggle this. I don't know if Armann reads me (he links to my page and I am really honored, yet baffled as to how I got on his list) or if he has gotten an answer to is question. Anyways, here goes, so if anyone who reads me can get this info to him one way or the other ...: Goggur was a charming jay bird (skjor) who was a happy chap while tempted to steal all things shiny. One of my favorite parts about Goggur's morning routine is how he brushes his teeth on a branch. The bird's whole body shakes and that image somehow fascinated me. Goggur is very playful and helpful. He saves his friend from the fox and is very proud of that. He is resourceful. He holds watch so his friend the stressed Moose can stop running from the men who want to shoot him and take a nap. Goggur also ties up the owl during the day so that it can't hunt the small animals during the night. The farmer is very angry at Goggur because Goggur steals from him. The farmers wife doesn't like him either and throws a book at him. The book is about Gyrdir Grimmi who ended up in jail for stealing. It doesn't pay off to steal. The farmer has a little son called Jon. Jon is a friend of Goggur. Jon is sweet on a little girl called Greta but she is shy because she has freckles. One day when Jon was asleep in the sun, Goggur held up a sieve so that the sun made freckles on Jon's face. Greta and Jon got together. Goggur also helped Jon with sowing. He called upon all the birds in the woods and got them to help. There are mores stories in the book about how Goggur helps his friends and teases his foes. But the main story starts in my book on page 37. The farmers wife forgets her most beautiful ring in the window. On the illustration, Goggur's eyes turn into two copies of the rings. He tries to look away, tries to fight it, and remembers the story of Gyrdir Grimmi in the book. He falls into temptation and nicks the ring. The farmer comes out with this big gun and shoots after Goggur. Goggur gets so startled he droppes the ring. He dives after the ring and catches it with his beak. Ring stuck, keeping the beak closed. Goggur tries to get the farm animals to help. They all laugh at him. He succumbs to depression and is close to crying. Even Jon laughs at him but soon stops. Jon helps Goggur grind off the ring by the grinding wheel. Goggur returned the ring although it was grinded apart. And the story ends with: Goggur promised he'd not steal any day soon. And if you meet a jay bird in the woods, a jay bird that doesn't steal, then it is Goggur Glaenefur. That you can be certain of. Moral of the story: You can have a big heart yet a character defect. It doesn't pay off to steal. Sometimes you have to learn the hard way. It is good to be helpful and resourceful and it is good to have friends. And nice children brush their teeth (pg. 5). posted by Skotta | 5:52 AM | When I look in the mirror I get songs from this album popping up in my head. The reason for this is that I got my hair cut yesterday and my fringe (bangs) is short. When I sleep on such a short fringe it has a tendency to stick up, kinda eighties like.  Fortunately, I am just one of those people who is too jolly to go fight the fringe but just get a disco song in my head and continue walking around with my hair sticking up. Baby is weighing down a lot these days so it made my heart warm when AB said that soon it would be him carrying the boy. I was surfing and dropped by a page I visit once in a while, http://parisardaman.blogspot.com (IS). On that page there was a discussion about feminism and equal rights. It got me going, not in a bad way, but just in a grateful way. I am so grateful for all the people, women and men, who have worked towards getting things to where they are today. You see, I keep comparing my situation to my mother's. She gave birth to seven, the last one 33 years ago. The difference between my situation and hers is humongus. I have so many choices that she didn't have. And you guys all know how much I love having choices. The best part is, that today, not only do I have choices my mother didn't have, AB has choices my father didn't have. Among those things are "Do I want to be present during the baby's birth?" and "Should I take a paternity leave?". I got a lot of choices due to peoples strive for equal rights, whatever they called themselves. I think that I have realized that womens rights are automatically mens rights. The more choices I get, the more choices AB gets. I can't wait for the equal pay ... now that would really give both of us choices! posted by Skotta | 4:37 AM | Friday, April 07, 2006 Aaaaarrrrrgggghhhhhh The DVD is scratched! Got season one and season five of Sex and the City. Am making my second attempt to watch season one after devouring season five last night. So far I have managed to get a peak at half of episode 1 and half of episode 4. The whole thing bailed on me once again, right in the middle of episode 4 where Carrie was about to tounge kiss a 20 something guy with a stud in his tounge! Okay, I am going for season 1, episode 5 now. Wish me luck! posted by Skotta | 11:54 AM |  A friend brought me a paskaegg from Iceland. For those who don't know, a paskaegg is an Easter egg made of chocolate. Paskaegg is as vital to Icelandic culture as hardfiskur and hakarl. Not as original, but close. Icelanders don't have an Easter egg hunt, we don't have a rabbit tradition. We have Easter, and that's holy, and then we have Easter eggs made of chocolate, and that's almost as holy. You don't eat your egg before the day, and that is to some, a sacred tradition. The egg is filled with candy. But the most important part is ... a little note inside that has a saying. Easter just isn't the same if you don't get your saying. Those can be sayings like "Blind is a man without a book". Or "Nation knows when three know". Or "The child grows but the pants don't". "Necessity teaches a nude woman spinning" and "No woman becomes a whore because of one man" are also examples. Sayings are a huge part of Icelandic culture. Here are some that I grew up with: Who knows, Eric might get better? Those who wet themselves have to feel the burn. Life is salted fish. Tomorrow, says the lazy one. Half the work done once it's started. The sayings in the Easter eggs were always the best. Early morning, Easter Sunday, you'd go to church (well, dad wen't to church and loved it if I bothered to wake up early enough to come with), then you'd come home and wish everyone happy Easter, and then ... you'd smash your egg open! And get that saying!!! "What saying did you get? What saying did you get!?" The exitement was such you wouldn't believe. My egg is just staring at me. It is from Noi chocolate factory, and it is number 4. Number 4 used to be a big egg, with number 6 being the biggest. Now it is just an average size, yet plenty for an not-so-sugar-craving adult. And my Noi Paskaegg is just standing there, waiting for me to break the tradition and eat it one of these days before Easter. posted by Skotta | 1:28 AM | Thursday, April 06, 2006 The "I looked like I had collagen lips last night" story, and my Best Of Dolly Parton CD, sparkled a conversation about Dolly and if she had plastic surgery at some point. Now, I am a big Dolly fan. I have to say that recent photos got me a bit off as she is starting to get that face, you know, like, they all end up looking kind of the same ...  There is just not the same roundness in her face like it used to, but what the heck.  I love Dolly. I once saw her on Jay Leno and she won my heart. She is one of the most intelligent women I have heard speak. Not kidding. And since I am mentioning her speak ... here is a link to an "Ask Dolly" website where you can hear her answer some questions from her fans. Enjoy! posted by Skotta | 6:31 PM | Wednesday, April 05, 2006 I just ate six strawberry Sun Lollies in a row. I now look like Bree Walker.  It made me giggle when I saw my face in the mirror. I look like I have collagen in my lips. So think Bree, but with red lipstick. posted by Skotta | 11:32 PM | New situation on the belly front. I am no longer partly immobile. I am completely immobile. This has resulted in me finally accepting my friends offer of two seasons of Sex in the City. And me asking her to vacum clean my apartment for me. Now, if I am not only accepting help, but deliberately asking for it, I am seriously not in shape. I am so happy I am able to accept her helping me (she cleaned my baby's room too, walls to ceiling). I remember a time I was so bad asking for help. Somehow, getting help to clean the house is especially evil. I know some of you identify. People are being so nice to me these days. A friend dropped by today with a gift certificate - for a pedicure! Citycat, are you reading this? I am so apreciating this gift. What else? Yes, baby is pressing down like you wouldn't believe. He has a way with mashing a nerve that leads out to my thigh, resulting in my leg giving in from under me. Very funny. Luckily it only lasts a split second because it hurts, but honestly, it is really, really funny. Like in the movies. posted by Skotta | 5:01 PM | Tuesday, April 04, 2006 Here is a link to the University of Mariland's Medical Center (mainly posted for my girl in NY who is also prego. Sorry if you were the one who gave me the link!). The link shows in a clever way how the baby developes in the belly. If you check this out you can see how the baby grows. I'm in 39th week, which means I am 38 weeks pregnant, 39 weeks on Thursday. posted by Skotta | 2:05 PM | Okay, long time no baby yet. A lot has happened but I am not going to go into that. What I am going to write about now is the death of another neighbour. Our next door neighbour just died. Well, he didn't just die, he died a while back. I didn't think I'd ever experience this, but we, the other people in the house, noticed a smell. Thursday evening our upstairs neighbour knocked on my door and asked me if I noticed a bad smell coming out of the apartment. I said I hadn't and I told him I hadn't seen our neighbour for a while. The dead man was Slovenian so I suggested that he was travelling or something. It could totally happen to me to have to fly home on a short notice and leave a trash bag behind. My upstairs neighbourh had me smell the key hole and yes, it did smell really bad. It was a smell I never smelled before and hope I'll never smell again. I figured, hell, I am not letting my mind go there, it is just too absurd! My upstairs neighbour kept saying "smells like rotten meat ... " I told my him I'd keep an eye out and let him know if I saw our Slovenian coming home. We went away, me and AB, over the weekend and I noticed when I came back that the next door apartment's windows were open. "Good," I thought, "he is home now and airing out." But nope. It wasn't him airing out. I guess they got someone to open up the apartment. I don't know how long he had been dead in there. So I guess it is not that uncommon. Our Sloveninan neighbour never talked to anyone. He got a visitor once a year or so, another older Slovenian man. He travelled to Slovenia once a year and stayed for months. He had just come back from one of those long trips, we had just started seeing him again. He got weird in the face if we said hi to him on the hallways and never recognized us outside of the house. I don't think he was isolated, just a loner. He left the house on a fairly regular basis and it wasn't only to go shopping. I assumed he had some Slovenian friends he went and hung out with. So, two deaths in the house in the same winter. And a little life on the way. Makes me think about how many lives this house has seen in it's 150 years. I know that there have been a few births. The next one could be any day now. posted by Skotta | 7:21 AM | |
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