Strikkedilla

I'm finally in full vacation mode after the school year and the interview. And what, pray tell, does Kverulantinnen do when she relaxes? She knits like a maniac!

First off this summer was a little sweater for E for the coming winter. I bought the yarn (Rauma Finull) in Oslo, even though I had vowed not to buy more yarn until my stash is depleted (that's what we all say).

Next, as a pathetic attempt to deplete that stash, I sorted through my two big plastic bins of craft stuff, giving away quite a bit, and then figuring out what projects I could complete with the good stuff. I discovered that I have enough Rauma 3-tråd yarn to make most of a classic islender sweater for KE. The next time I'm in Norway I'll have to buy a few skeins of the two contrasting colors in order to make the sleeves, but I'm surprised that I had this much!

And of course there's the blue yarn waiting to be knit up into a Calvin Klein cabled polo neck sweater from an ancient issue of Vogue Knitting. On and off over the past year I finished the back and started on the front, but there's still a long way to go. I don't really like the yarn that much (Nature Spun worsted weight). It's too soft and fuzzy compared to the harder Norwegian yarn that I love.

I also have a sweet little baby setesdal cardigan originally intended for E (three and a half years ago) that only has some finishing work left to do. It's made out of Dale babygarn:

Then the plan is to use up more of my stash (the in my mind infamous purple yarn, more Rauma 3-tråd) on a classic English gansay from an old book on knitting in the British Isles that I've had forever. It will be in a larger child's size that E can use in a year or two - mostly just so that I can use up as much of the yarn as possible, without needing to buy more (which I would have to do were I to make an adult size).

In Oslo I also bought (shame, shame) some really, really fine gray lambswool (also Rauma; can you tell I'm a major fan?) that is going to be my treat for knitting in the fall. It will be the plainest of raglan curled-cuff and neck sweaters. I've already knitted the same thing in red and remember it taking a shockingly long time to knit for being a straight stockinette project.

And finally, I have pieced together a knitting needle caddy (the fabric roll kind) with part of my fabric stash, and will sew it up whenever I remember to borrow my mother's sewing machine. It was a fun project to figure out (I did a lot of searching for patterns on the internet), and if it turns out I'll make it into a tutorial here (I plan to take pictures of each step of the construction).

Forberedelser

Thinking of our move to Norway, whether it takes place in December 2008 or June 2009, is pretty overwhelming. I'm trying to take some steps this summer to get ready:

• The exterior of our house is now painted! Yay! It looks so much better, and for the first time I'm not embarrassed to live here. The guy did a great job. It cost around $2200, which seemed incredibly reasonable for a 1600 square foot house (plus 400 square foot attached garage)
• We have hired a finish carpenter to do some work in the house. The bathroom and master bedroom doors are missing trim, and we need to have the trim around the kitchen floor replaced, and a bunch of other little jobs. These are things that drive us crazy on a subliminal level, and if they're not done I think it will turn off potential buyers. Of course no one (but us) will notice them when they are done, but they really need to be done any way. It will cost about $600
• We have hired an electrician to take care of a whole bunch of nagging little things--including the power strip that the former owners have mounted on an exterior wall! This long list of little electrical things is a bigger job, about $1100
• We have signed up for our neighborhood's big summer yard sale from 25-27 July. It will give us the opportunity to get rid of a bunch of things that we don't want to take with us. We're not planning on storing anything here in the US, so we either take it with us or sell/donate it. That can be a bit overwhelming. Even though I'm a minimalist, we've still accumulated a lot. And this neighborhood sale comes a bit too early--we can't get rid of everything, since we still have 6-12 more months to live here.

Unfortunately, there are even more things that I haven't begun to take concrete action on, even though I've been fretting about them for months:

• Figuring out how to ship belongings overseas. We'd like to get a quote for a standard container of some sort and then just purge our belongings down to what fits, but that doesn't seem to be the way shipping companies work. When I tried to get information they kept asking me "how many rooms" we would be shipping, which seems ridiculous. Doesn't it kind of depend on how big the rooms are and how full of stuff they are?! Give me the height, width, depth, and weight, and I'm okay, but this "room" stuff is totally frustrating.
• Figuring out how to transfer financial assets. Obviously I'm going to let my retirement account sit, but if we get any money out of selling our house (please, please) we'd like to take that money with us. I need to find out any tax implications.
• I think we also need to get some interior painting done in the house to spruce it up a bit before selling. Not sure if it's worth the time/energy expenditure to do it ourselves, or whether we should hire someone.

Kjæledyr

In my social circles, children are optional and pets are sacred. I don't think I know anyone who isn't a devoted pet owner. It often appears to be a point of pride for my friends that they value animals more than people. I don't have a pet.

I had a psychotic cat named Nimbus for something like seven years. I adopted him from a horrible animal control shelter when he was a kitten. He was violent and did not tolerate other cats (although he appeared somewhat fascinated by dogs). When I married KE he tried valiantly for over a year to live with the horrible allergies that Nimbus produced in him. He tried to make friends and adjust to the cat's wild spells. Our son was born and neither of us fully trusted Nimbus with him. The cat was too violent and too unpredictable--biting and clawing me was one thing, biting and clawing an infant quite another. Finally, we came to the realization that Nimbus was making our lives miserable. We took him to a no-kill shelter and hoped for the best. The story doesn't have a happy ending. I never tried to find out what happened to him. I just sent him out there into the universe. Certain people around me were shocked. My getting rid of Nimbus was an affront and a betrayal of their value system.

My dirty little secret is that life without a pet is exponentially better. I'm relieved not to have another life dependent upon me. I'm relieved that we can travel without significant logistical cat-care planning. I'm relieved not to have the pet chores and extra costs. My child, my spouse, and my job take almost everything out of me. I haven't got anything left for the needs of a pet.

On a discussion board I frequent the topic of how evil people who give up their pets are occasionally resurfaces. It did again this week, and prompted a rush of guilt. I know that pets are supposed to be a lifetime commitment. But so are marriages, parenting, friendships, all sorts of things that change over time. I couldn't live up to that commitment with Nimbus. I failed him. It was a sacrifice I chose to make for my new life as a spouse and parent.

One thing that haunts me: when I moved in with KE he knew I loved cats, and as a kind of odd symbolic gesture he took in a stray kitten. Since she was a short hair and lived mostly outside, he didn't have as much of an allergic reaction to her. We had her spayed and then arranged that the people who rented our house would take care of her. Confession: I desperately hope that they take her with them when we move back. I don't want her. I would only resent her. I had to give up a cat I truly loved, and I just don't want the hassle of caring for a cat with whom I have no relationship. If I can't have Nimbus I don't want any pets at all. I mentioned this to KE and he just thinks its spiteful. It probably is.

Hjemme igjen

I am back from my five-day trip to Oslo. I visited the new opera house, which was designed by the architecture firm Snøhetta, and hit some old favorites, such as the National Gallery and the National Library. The interview and lecture for the postdoctoral fellowship went just fine. I won't know the results until after 22 August, which seems an awful long time to wait (Okay, it's an eternity!). But such is life.

It was a tiring trip, and nerves kept me from sleeping well. I did get to catch up with some friends and with some students from the early 1990s, which was really a blast. But here is what I was missing out on:

So sweet! It was great to come home to the boys!

Tigerstaden!

I fly out tomorrow for my interview in Oslo. Yippee!

The lecture is in a form that I could present in a pinch, and I'll have three days there to tinker before the actual delivery.

I know pretty much what to expect at the interview (although the lunch with the committee members and the other candidate may be challenging!), and I have a list of fun (for me) activities I want to do in museums and archives. Plus I have to find the coolest Norwegian toy in Oslo to bring home for E.

In the lecture I'm going to have some fun doing things with texts. I'm going to deal with three: Knutsen og Ludvigsen's "Eventyret om en melodi," Knut Hamsun's Pan (1894), and Erlend Loe's Doppler (2004). The assigned topic for the lecture is "Forskning og undervisning i nordisk litteratur i en globalisert verden."

Somewhat surprisingly, the University is putting me up in what appears to be a very nice, super-modern hotel, Hotel Thon Gyldenløve, which bills itself as a "designhotell" (that's "design hotel" for those of you unable to figure out the incredibly complex orthography of Norwegian). Totally unnecessary to shell out for a $200/night room, but I have to admit I'm looking forward to five nights there. I'm almost considering it as a mini vacation as much as an interview--not that I haven't been madly preparing for the past two weeks, but I just really want to have my head in the right space. This position would mean so much for me both personally and professionally. To say that it's a dream job is an understatement. But jobs come and go, so I'm trying to remain sanguine.

fordeler og ulemper

Why, actually, do we want to move? We could continue as we are for any amount of time. Why all the trauma?

Pros (real or perceived)

1. We both love the location of our home in Norway. It has great sentimental value, since KE inherited the land upon the death of his father and designed the house himself. It's a cool, artsy community, close to the center of everything (a short ferry ride from Oslo), but still extremely quiet and laid back.

2. I think that Norway would be a better place to raise our son. I think the schools are better, in that they stress independent thinking more than here, and haven't fallen into the testing trap.

3. Proximity to the sea. Our house in Norway is a ten minute walk to a marina, where we have a boat slip and a beat up old motor boat. Both of us grew up close to the water, and miss it here.

4. Finances. Higher earning power in Norway and less to pay off on the mortgage there mean that we would get ahead sooner. Our lives will be so much easier once we have only one property to worry about, and once the mortgage debt is gone we'll be in a much better position.

5. Proximity to the rest of Europe. What can I say? I'm one of those obnoxious Americans who deeply and obsessively loves European cultures. I know that's irritating to lots of people, but it's just the way I am.

6. KE's happiness. He never even wanted to visit the U.S., let alone move here.

Cons (real or perceived)

1. Distance from my family, especially my mother.

2. My career. If I get the fellowship I'm in a great position to continue. If I don't, the move may well signal the end of my career. That could be a really good thing for me. It could also be disastrous.

3. Ice. Lots of it. For months and months. I don't mind snow and darkness, but I can't abide icy sidewalks.

4. Isolation. I seem to go in waves: In some places I've lived, I have developed great friendships. In others I can't seem to connect (that's the case where we are now). I'm anxious about my ability to build up a strong network of friends, especially now in my 40s. It only gets harder, I think.

Ja vi elsker...

Next week I have to give the speech at the local Sons of Norway Lodge's Norwegian constitution day celebration. It has me thinking about nationalism.

It is also part of my work. I dug up a book on the history of the Norwegian national anthem, "Sang for Norge," popularly known as "Ja, vi elsker." it has some fabulous nationalist propaganda images. Lo and behold, on one of them there is a little cabin tucked in the background (see above, in the grassy area to the right of the flag-draped bautastein). This, of course, is highly relevant to my next big research project, which will be an examination of cabins in Norwegian literature from 1814-2005. One of the things that most fascinates me about Scandinavia is the vacation home culture that has developed there. It was one of the things that most struck me way back when I was a highschool exchange student. When I met KE and started hanging out on Nesodden, the topic resurfaced. His house is built on the site of a former cabin, and in his neighborhood every other dwelling is a cabin. I'm really excited to get to work on teasing out what cabins signify throughout Norway's recent cultural history...