The NZ Golf initiated Junior Tiger Tour visited Waitemata Golf Course today. This was North Harbour’s regional qualifying for the Championship.

For more information on Junior Tiger click the image above.

igolf's Volunteers and the Junior Tiger

Results to follow.

Sitter i min sköna skrivfåtölj med min älskade dator i knät, omgiven av kaos. På många plan… Är mitt i en flytt. Jag packar, sorterar och slänger. Känner ett påtagligt släktskap med Lydia när jag rensar i skåp och lådor. Drabbas av illamående när jag exponeras för alla dessa saker, överallt ett helt sjukt överflöd av grejer. Till vilken nytta, undrar jag? Kaffemaskiner och specialkastruller, vaser och ljuslyktor, pepparkaksformar och gamla skolböcker, glasburkar och plastförpackningar. Herregud, vad ska man med allt? Jag vill resa lätt den här gången, få luft under vingarna och lyfta. Flytten och uppbrottet står mellan mig och skrivandet. Men det är bara en tillfällig paus, ett tillfälle att fylla på med nya tankar och erfarenheter. Därför blir det inte mycket bloggande och kapitlen dröjer… Men snart, snart kommer kapitel 4 – håll ut.

So tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Again.

How does that happen exactly? I mean it doesn’t feel like it was that long ago we were all sitting here in my living room playing the Wii or enjoying Arizona weather after a satisfying turkey dinner! Do you remember?

A Long Drive

A Little Rock Band

Good Food

A Lot of Playing

All Equals A Lot of Love

Time has a way of moving on whether we like it or not. As I sit here I find myself reflecting and remembering so many holidays of the past. I have strong memories of a Thanksgiving in Preston, when all the Luthy’s came down and we set up a LONG table in the kitchen. I remember Jolene helping me get just the right amount of gravy on my potatoes in a perfect little puddle. I remember the laughter, the fun and the closeness of time with family. I also have vivid images in my head of the first Thanksgiving after little Cidnie found her way to us. I remember eating in the basement of mom and dad’s that year so we could all sit together at one long table. I remember the personalized notes mom wrote to each of us as our place holders, and I remember the one she wrote to baby Cidnie. My heart swells with these memories and I am thankful all over again.

So what do you remember? What’s your favorite Thanksgiving memory?

I finished sewing the dresses for Larisa, who is playing Lydia in P&P, in the nick of time. The lame pattern had these cute, inefficient draw strings at the neck and the empire waist…. that just produced a gaping hole with white skin showing on the back.  So I sewed the cord in place, chopped it off and put in a zipper.  Whew.  No ivory skin beaming forth.   I also made a green gown that had four handmade roses on it… which were also finished the night before the show.  WHEW, again.  The cute lavender dress kept blowing open in the back because the snaps and hooks wouldn’t hold up to Larisa’s flamboyant movements.  So I added some hooks and the squeezed them all tight with pliers…. and the dress stayed shut… but was very difficult to get off!

There is some sort of anti-family-photo regulation with the shows, so only the staff photographer can take any pictures.  So we’ll have to wait for those, which are always fabulous, by the way.  I just hate waiting.  AND I forgot my camera for before and after the shows… so I have no pictures.  But, alas, another dad posted pictures on facebook and I lifted one so you could see just the top of the cute lavender dress:

This is post-production hair that has been flattened by matching bonnets, by the way.  And that is Matt, aka Mr. Darcy…. and Hannah, aka Kitty, in the background.

So the Friday night show was a packed house and they had to bring in more chairs.  With such a lively crowd, the cast was also lively and the show was fantastic, if I do say so myself.  Larisa’s portrayed the giggly 16-year-old, Lydia, who runs away with Mr. Wickham…. the floozy.  But I must say, she portrayed her quite vivaciously and was the true comedy relief of the show…. bouncing, smiling, fluttering, primping, swaying, flirting, and on and on.  Makes a mama proud…. well, her ACTING ability…. not the floozy part.  )

Woke up, took shower. Looked outside at depressingly dark, gray day. Thought to self: “may as well wear something comfortable, since I’m spending the day with the Beeb.” The outfit that sprang to mind was a hoodie and this pair of jeans I bought right after having Lydia, so I would have something that fit my flabby post-baby besides yoga pants. Well, I’ve lost most of the baby weight, but continue to wear these jeans, which hang off my hips, sag unflatteringly in the ass, and have faded to that indeterminate shade of blue that was popular in 1993. Suddenly it hit me: THIS was how mothers end up at their children’s bus stops dressed in sweatsuits–it starts with comfortably baggy jeans and is a quick decline from there. I stared at myself in the mirror: what was I becoming? Had I been unknowingly donning mom jeans for the past four months? Not to mention that the bobbed haircut that I got pre-baby in order to feel hip and youthful and funky had morphed into something that, sans expensive product and frequent trims, looked remarkably identical to my mother’s.

Dressed in my schlubby ensemble and thoroughly depressed, I decided to soothe myself–as I so often do– with a little retail therapy. I had a merchandise credit at Anthropologie from returning a sequined tunic I had realized made me look like a bedazzled and dumpy lampshade, and I had had my eye on a cute button-front knit top for a few months. That top was what I needed, I decided: stylish, yet comfortable, something that would be equally appropriate on a college-aged person or on, well, me.

But what should be gracing Anthropologie’s homepage? A sleepwear gift guide, with sleep-related gifts “for girlfriends,” “for kids,” “for you” and “for mom.” And there, under the “for mom” heading, paired with a dorky floral-patterned waffle tee and cellulite-hiding wide-leg jersey pants, was MY shirt, the one I was about to buy to feel better about myself! Under the “for mom” heading! Categorized as sleepwear!

Readers, I cannot even begin to tell you how sad this made me. If my go-to online shopping site begins insinuating I’m dressing in loungewear only one small step up from your garden-variety sweatsuit, and not only that, but that I’m seeking out said loungewear because I misguidedly think it’s fashionable, and that the stylists at Anthropologie have chosen this loungewear as only giftable to moms…well, honestly it’s just too depressing to contemplate.

Before I could rocket further along this shame spiral, Lydia woke up, needed to be fed, and promptly horked about a gallon of spit-up all over my hoodie and jeans, necessitating an entire outfit change and, I told myself, an attitude adjustment. So I crammed my still-slightly-wider-than-before butt into tighter pants, my slightly-more-”rubenesque”-than-before torso into a cuter top, and went out on the town.

Out on the town, that is, if your definition of a fun urban destination is the waiting area at the Wakefield Liberty Mazda dealership. They have a huge flat screen television, and I had three hours to kill, which meant I was forced to endure morning television. Specifically, Rachael Ray. Sitting there, though, in my second outfit of the day, in the ragged pleather waiting area chairs, holding my squawling baby, watching the overweight and kitchen-product-obsessed Rachael Ray audience, I had a realization: I despise Rachael Ray and would never in a trillion years want to be in her audience. I don’t want to make “whimsical charm bracelets” or whip up Rachael’s family recipe for sausage meatballs with penne or purchase her signature line of Calphalon pans. And as long as I can hang onto my hatred of these things, maybe, just maybe, no matter what jeans I’m wearing on whatever size ass I have, I’ll still be a little bit badass.

i don’t know if the line of tea outside the mug is from now or not. it doesn’t look like it is. this is the mug though. it makes tea taste its best. &i guess i should be trying to get some sugar into my system after being drained of blood again.

‘if i don’t believe in love nothing will last for me.’ i’ve got a new fear. but i can’t yet write it down. i can’t even say it aloud. i need to talk it over with someone though. it’s so milky &sweet. just how it should be. i wrote out the entire set of shots from sleuth yesterday. my hands were buzzing by the end. the adrenaline was pumping &my back cramped up. when you’re in a rush it becomes physically possible to watch the minutes being consumed in front of you. the time ticks by &there is less than nothing you can do to stop it. i’ve only listened to this song in the presence of one other person before. it’s a good feeling. it’ll branch out soon. time ticks &it flies. but it pauses on occasion to let you catch up. sometimes it even lets you overtake it but that wont last. before you know it it’ll be rushing past again &you’ll have lost sight of it &forgotten what you were doing. anything you saw in the future will be cast out of your mind &you’ll be back at square one. frozen in time. stuck in the spot you thought you’d left behind. then there are the things that take you back to how you were. where it was. &what it meant. those comforts that can pull you back to a time when the world was a simpler place. it was louder &brighter but altogether less threatening. just. it’s a fair place where the rain only rains when you want it to &when the sun comes out in summer, like it’s meant to. i just looked through the summer pictures. it has just hit me that that’ll not happen again. i miss it. it hurts. it’s like a pain. ripping through my chest. nostalgia &regret &hope &desire &longing. all mingled into one painful pull. it’s the knowledge i will have seen him in an hour. give it twenty-four hours &i will be back here waiting for you girls to show. it’s knowing that this morning in the car he sang. it’s the dreams i’m having about us &christmas & everything else that is choosing to hit my mind late at night this week. plaguing my dreams with negatives. the choice my head makes to not allow me to sleep well. holding onto me. reality refusing to let me go to that place where sleep happens. that safe place that allows comfort &relief to overcome you.

Not much to report from this week’s omnibus, other than that there’s all sorts of romantic shenanigans going on:

the Osbornes

Now we rated this couple the moment they got hitched and so are very happy to report that Hannah and Darren are turning into something rather sweet: Hannah, all hair, eyes and borderline alcoholism is intent on preventing Darren from sliding into a yet another gambling flavoured disaster; whilst Darren is wooing his missus with unbranded loo roll, economy burgers and Jaws 4 on DVD (swoon) – and even turned down the chance of some illicit hate sex with Cindy! Cuter that a basket of kittens, we love them!

Jacqui and Des

Yeah, so Des is a bit annoying at times but we like the way he seems to have tamed Jacqui and her scally ways. Having said that, knowing Jacqui’s luck with men we give it a month before her new man has slept with/impregnated one (if not all) of her sisters. And her mum too.

Newt-Rae-Gaz

Scallified Newt’s tedious obsession with chav princess Rae has been given a certain triangular je ne sais quoi now that Gaz is also sniffing around. Its all very sullen and angsty. Meh.

Amy and Ste

The flighty 2×2 returned to the village and tried to make amends with her psycho chav-turned-burger entrepreneur ex boyf. Ste was having none of it. Aww.

Lydia and Charlotte

Our fave Myra Hindley lookalike, dismayed at the less than positive write up she got in Sarah’s diary, has managed to creep her way back into Charlotte’s good books (and other places). Run away Charlotte! Run awaaaaaay!

in other news

Archie sits around the village for an entire episode holding a twig

It’s fall, but beautiful and sunny today.  Lydia is doing great!  She is full of energy and happy and we are in an excellent routine with eating, sleeping and our general day’s flow – even with mom back to work now.  We did a little photography today with the beautiful light coming in the windows and a bright new wonderful purple outfit from cousin Mikkel, Johanne and little Maren.  Thank you!

A great fall light coming in the western windows…

We cannot confirm really clear words that Lydia is saying yet, but we feel she is using some sounds for words, like “mmmm” seems to mean food and “baa baa” seems to mean baby (not bottle).  And her little stuffed animal friend here is her baby.  At the moment games of giving and taking and saying thank you and giving and taking again are just right. She loves to get baby back!

On the move…

All right, let me just get these guys organized first…

This is the ‘hiding’ part of playing ‘Peek A Boo’ with Lydia leading the game.

“Booo!”  And, “Hi!!!!!”  She loves to wave hello!  (and isn’t it the cutest dress?!?!?)

This is how we look just before we are taking our nap.  Doesn’t it look cozy?  Wouldn’t you like a nap too?

Lydia’s room – this is the ‘nook’ right next to her bed.  The chest is designed and painted by Kelsey and the little picture is one we bought in Taiwan.  It is all stitched and is a detailed little scene with lots of people.  Christian really likes it.  I hope Lydia will like it too!

Errr….a little bit of Christian’s photographic creativity here…

“Dressing”

“Good morning!”

“Crazy Hair”

“Leg and Foot”

This past week, Christian and I used some of our scraps from pruning the fruit trees last weekend and made the bases for our advent wreaths.  One for our home and one for Grandma and Morfar.  We hope we can cut nice greens for finishing the advent wreath from the scrap branches from our Christmas trees next weekend.  We we will stop to fell them in Michigan on our way back from Thanksgiving in Ohio.  As you can see we goofed around and had some fun!  Uh…and Christian took some of the pictures too.

I don’t know what I was saying, but Christian sure got a good one…

Documenting the final wreath base.

The wreath bases are ready!!!

And out other fall activity in the last weeks, as we think ahead to Holiday sharing is the beginning of our Bjesk making…we are making a much improved pear brandy and for the first time trying Karen Dam’s apple brandy recipe.  We have flavoring already Lene’s Jule Liquor and a Hyben / Rose Hip Bjesk.  Soon I will make a Solbaer Rom and a Cranberry Christmas Bjesk, as well as the traditional Dill / Thyme / Carroway flavored Snaps.  This is what our dining room table looks like.

Tuesday morning we are off on our way to Ohio to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with our family in Cleveland – it’s going to be great fun and we can’t wait – especially Christian!

This year we are thankful for SO VERY MUCH!!!  Thank you for friendship and loving wishes and for the many beautiful gifts you have showered upon us to celebrate Lydia’s arrival.  Wishing you all a very warm and Happy Thanksgiving!

So here I am, sitting in her room. We just dealt with a possible problem in the way that most young lovers do things – we dealt with the possible consequences. Do I regret doing that? Not in the least. Do I wish I had not given her a reason to take that pill? Yes. God, yes. I feel a little using, me getting the benefits and her taking the brunt of the risk. Sure, I am assuming some responsibility if things don’t go according to plan b, but really, I wish I hadn’t given us reason to have to deal with consequences. I’m not going to again. It’s not that hard not to, which is another reason why I feel a little betraying. I hope she never finds this, because in truth, I hope never to give her reason to second-guess anything I do, and definitely anything we do together. I want to be a strong point in her life, someone that she can rely on in times of trouble, someone who takes excellent care of her, and is her keeper, her husband. Sometimes though, I feel like I’m doing a shitty job of it. Onus # infinity.

Acts 16:14b
… The Lord opened her [Lydia] heart to respond to Paul’s message.

Revelation… truth… understanding… none of these can happen without an open heart and it is God who makes this happen. It’s not that we can’t open our own hearts, we can. Unfortunately, we usually don’t realize how closed off we really are. We assume our hearts are open… after all, what does a closed heart even look like?

I imagine a closed heart like a fortress, like the keep of a castle, the last line of defense… it is the stronghold. The heart can be like an entire castle for our normal activities and relationships; we open and close the drawbridge, we let people and ideas come in and out. But the stronghold is not open to just anyone. And sometimes, no one is allowed inside at all. And if we have collected assumptions, secrets, memories, untruths, misconceptions, pain, and prejudices, they are stored in there to keep them “safe.” If the storage areas are full, some of this stuff will pour out through the window slits and cracks and affect our daily lives. But generally, we manage to keep all that stuff inside. It is, after all, way too dangerous to let anyone inside, just opening the door may let too much out.

When I hit forty, my stronghold was so full that it was not just leaking out, it was spewing out periodically like a volcano. I often felt like I would explode, literally. I would sob uncontrollably. I would walk outside in some lonely place and just scream and scream until my throat was raw. My thoughts were jumbled up. I was like a lone survivor in an ocean trying to hold on to a life boat, but with no clue how to get in. I really thought I was going crazy.

I am grateful for the counselors, pastors, and friends who held me up during this difficult time of my life. The very thing I feared the most was the very thing I needed to do: open the keep… open the stronghold. Finally, I asked Jesus to do this work. I could not. When the door finally opened, it was not pretty. Eventually, equilibrium was achieved.

And after awhile, I thought the work was done. The proof was in my fresh energy and sense of renewal. It was during these healing years that we adopted our children, moved into a different house, changed jobs, I got a second master’s degree, I met new people and allowed new ideas to filter in.

But what was considered new then has become somewhat entrenched in my stronghold again. It is not as full as before. It is not as volatile. But I am aware that the door of my heart/my stronghold has been swinging shut more than I would like. And so, I ask my God this day, to keep my heart open. Give me courage to embrace people… all different kinds of people… authentically. Give me faith that you will sift ideas for me. Give me revelation knowledge, wisdom, and understanding. Give me trust that Jesus will always be my doorkeeper.

She gives. More than I thought possible. Yet, I still have to give everything I have and am, and more if I could. I walked home again last night at 1230. It wasn’t very hard to make her happy. Even better was the fact that she was very torn about me leaving. I love her, and can’t wait to spend my nights with her.

I surprised her at work tonight. I honestly believe that she appreciated it. That makes it all worthwhile. See, it’s not that I am a paranoid asshole who thinks that she doesn’t love me most of the time, just when I’m nice, it’s that I’m more than a little semi-consciously afraid that she will stop loving me if I am not the best man I can be. It’s probably an irrational fear, seeing as she has given me absolutely no indication that way, and many indicators that the opposite is quite true (including myriad instances of plain verbal iteration of such). I am still pretty clingy though, and it carries over into my obsession with perfection when it comes to loving her. It’s okay though, because hopefully all she sees of it is that I am an awesome boyfriend and a manly lover. If so, cool. That’s what I was going for.

mock the week is on. you just left. we watched donnie darko &i need to feed the fish. i’ve had alpen &sausage casserole. the hamster wont stop spinning. it’s cold sitting down here. i was hot earlier so i turned down the heating &opened windows. ‘what on earth‘ is the current round. i don’t really understand it but i like having the background noise. we’re doing disturbia in media. starting to watch it tomorrow i think. &a streetcar named desire in english on friday, if she can get the dvd. tuesday &wednesday are seeing periods three through five cancelled because of form tutor reviews. any excuse. you only just went &we’re texting. i said i love you in a roundabout way to you last week.. &you said you’d return it but you want it to mean something. so now i want you to say it. i’m being told you do by other people, some who haven’t even met you yet.. that’s got to be a good sign..? (took me three tries to write sign instead of sing) (embarrassing much?) my hair had volume today &i made friends with a girl called laura. got her number &everything. i told my dad &he said she was probably a lesbian. sometimes he just doesn’t come out with the right thing. they’re helping russel deal with his cramp. there was a fly on the screen. talked dirty to ben today in sociology; it was such fun. &i know i shouldn’t do it to him but he makes it so easy. everything spiralled today but with help from lydia, ben &lottie i was brought back up again. &now i’m fighting fit.

not to mention ready for bed.

Angus Morgan at Kingston Heath, Sportal

Tiger Woods on Sunday

Victoria’s hefty investment in Tiger Woods has returned a healthy dividend in the form of the 2009 JBWere Australian Masters title, the $270,000 first prize and the champion’s yellow jacket, all safely secured by the world No.1 at Kingston Heath on Sunday.

Woods, the joint leader after 54 holes with Australians Greg Chalmers and James Nitties, fired a final-round 68 at the historic 6455-metre, par-72 layout in Melbourne’s renowned sandbelt to prevail at 14-under by two shots from Chalmers (70) in outright second.

Francois Delamontagne of France elevated himself from amongst the also-rans with weekend rounds of 68 and 69 for a share of third place on 10-under with Jason Dufner (70) of the USA, while Nitties (73) rounded out the top five at minus-nine.

“It was a great day today,” a satisfied Woods told his media conference.

“All the guys have raved about this golf course and I understand why.”

“I enjoy all the sandbelt courses, really, because it brings back shot-making, something that we don’t see enough of in the States.”

Clad in his customary Sunday red, Woods constructed a copybook birdie at the first to signal that Saturday’s misadventures, when he carded a frustrating and unsatisfactory 72, were well and truly behind him.

In fine, warm conditions, the 14-time major winner made his move with successive birdies at five and six.

First, he offered his huge gallery the thrills they were craving with a seven-iron to the pin for a gimme at the 351-metre par-four fifth for the outright lead, followed by a sand wedge to inches at the next for a tap-in to extend it.

Woods’ most telling shot of the day was at the par-five 12th when he smashed a fairway wood from 268 metres to within four metres of the flag, setting up another birdie for a three-shot break on his rivals, though he later credited a clutch putt for par at nine for helping to maintain his momentum.

But it didn’t all go the champion’s way.

A furious Woods blamed an overenthusiastic photographer for his wayward approach which was to cost him a shot at 13 – his one blemish for the round – and a par at the par-five 14th was an opportunity lost.

“I felt I was in control of the tournament after I made that birdie on 12 and a photographer took the control right away from me,” Woods told his media conference.

“He took a few shots on my downswing, I flinched and made bogey.”

“I don’t mind players taking away the control, but not when something happens from outside.”

It was when he holed a three-metre birdie putt at the 142-metre par-three 15th that Woods effectively slammed the door shut on his rivals.

Critical of the softness of the Kingston Heath greens on Saturday, Woods said they were only marginally better for the final round.

“They were faster today but they still were holding and you could be quite aggressive going to some of these flags,” he said.

“Even downwind the ball wasn’t going to get away from you – you still had a chance to spin the ball which is normally not the case.”

The champion was kept honest by Chalmers who managed a couple of early birdies and remained thereabouts despite a dropped shot at the 173-metre par-three eighth.

What really hurt the 36-year-old, however, was his failure to convert two gilt-edged birdie opportunities when he most needed to on the back nine at 14 and 16.

“Even though I finished second, I’m thrilled he (Woods) was here, I wish he would come every couple of years,” said a gracious Chalmers.

“It’s been a pretty fantastic week with the crowd and the atmosphere we had as golfers, it was like a football crowd brought to the golf.”

“That was special, very exciting and it made you play better – it certainly did for me, anyway.”

Woods’ victory was warmly welcomed by Victorian premier John Brumby whose state government attracted criticism in some quarters for agreeing to underwrite Woods’ $3 million appearance fee which was double the total prize money for the tournament.

The size of the final day crowd – 25,132 – was a useful barometer of the tournament’s outstanding success on almost every level.

Adam Bland’s 67 was the best of Sunday’s rounds while two former Masters champions, Craig Spence, the 1999 winner and Aaron Baddeley (2007) both matched Woods’ 68.

Defending titleholder Rod Pampling fired a final-round 73 to finish equal-14th at minus-four overall.

igolf’s Tour Professionals Brad Shilton, Hamish Robertson and Mike Hendry all just slipped out of the event narrowly missing the cut and missing the weekend. The boys are in Sydeny at present gearing up for the next Australisaian Tour event.

For photos of our players and photos of other players go to the photo page or click here.

Not even four months into Lydia’s life, and Ryan and I have reached the nadir of extreme boredom.  The scene:

Saturday night, November 14th, approximately 7:15pm.  The room is dim, trashy television cued up.

Whitney: She’s 16 weeks old.  They say to stop swaddling them when they are this age or a little older.
Ryan: Well, let’s not swaddle her.
Whitney:  Really?  Do you really think so?  What if she still needs the swaddle? What if this screws up everything and she never sleeps again?
R: I guess we’ll find out.
W [manic, excited gleam in her eyes, no trace of irony in her voice]:  You know, you’re right.  Let’s do it!  It’s Saturday night, after all!
R & W: Silence.  The weight of how depressing this statement in slowly settles in, visible in W and R’s postures.
W: I just meant–
R: I know, I know.  We can sleep in tomorrow if she’s up all night.
W: Yeah. That’s all I meant.

well i didn’t expect that. the day went stats, good &i finished all the work &some &then helped you out. art was tedious. form was good. english wasn’t great but i’m thinking maybe you’ll start to stop hating me soon. lunch with you was brilliant. then town with zach &lydia which went well. then a text from you cancelling our coffee date. so liam came round. &missed his train. &i bumped into tasha’s best friend at the train station &we spent an hour &a half wandering &laughing &he said he was jealous of liam.

i feel huge. i got cross with you today. missing college. it used to prove to be a source of tension between lydia &i &i can see it happening with you. &i feel powerless to stop it. one tree hill. &i’m looking forward to it ridiculous amounts. this weekend &n-dubz too. so long as it’s with you.

there’s so much more needing to get out right now but it’s put a halt to itself &wont budge. maybe i will watch friends instead.

3.

”Det är egentligen inte så mycket att orda om. Du är ensam arvinge till ditt föräldrahem, det finns inga andra syskon.”

Lydia satt mitt emot Karin som skötte om bouppteckningen. Kontoret var rymligt, högt i tak och inrett med möbler som andades gamla anor. Skrivbordet var det största Lydia någonsin sett, mörkbrunt och så blankt att man kunde spegla sig i ytan. Hela väggen bakom Karin, från golv till tak, rymde en inbyggd bokhylla i samma träslag som skrivbordet. En smäcker trappstege löpte längs en list på bokhyllan, för att man skulle komma åt böckerna högst upp. Som på film hade Lydia tyckt när hon var barn. I bortre ändan av rummet fanns en sittgrupp, med två oxblodsfärgade chesterfieldsoffor mitt emot varandra. Det var härifrån mamma och pappa fick sin inredningsidé till vardagsrummet. De hade helt enkelt kopierat stilen rätt av. Karin hade känt föräldrarna länge och det var hon som hjälpte till med alla papper när pappa dog, för tre år sedan. Hela hon var byggd av effektivitet. Håret var kortklippt och färgat i en kastanjebrun ton. Makeupen var diskret, liksom den svarta dräkten och de lagom höga klackarna. Hennes långa, smala fingrar med omsorgsfullt vårdade naglar plockade med pappren som låg spridda över skrivbordet, lade i högar och koordinerade samtalet utifrån dokumentens innehåll. Som en dirigent med sina notblad, tänkte Lydia.

”Skogen, totalt 220 hektar, är väl underhållen. Värdet uppskattas till sex, i bästa fall sju miljoner” sa Karin.

”Oj, så mycket?”

Karin tittade ner i papperen.

”Ja, värderingen säger det.”

”…”

”Sedan har vi gården. Med boningshuset, ladugården, gammelstugan och bastun nere vid älven. Värdet beräknas till i runda slängar någonstans mellan fyra hundra och fem hundra tusen.”

”Okej.”

”Ja, och så har vi Leopold förstås. Med husvagnen.”

Pappa hade redan för tre år sedan, alldeles innan han dog, särskilt önskat att Leopold skulle få bo kvar i sin husvagn nere vid älven. Leopold. Ett riktigt original, en enstöring, som levt själv i Luleå i hela sitt liv och som pappa mer eller mindre adopterat när de lärde känna varandra för tio år sedan, i samband med att Leopold gick i pension från skogsbolaget där de båda jobbade. Visst var det lite av en solskenshistoria, hur alla varnade pappa för kufen Leopold, som skulle lämna över en del av sina arbetsuppgifter till honom. Istället blev de bästa vänner och pappa introducerade Leopold i byn. Han fick ett socialt umgänge i Svartträsk och i jaktlaget. Leopold blev någon här i byn, en personlighet som inte fick plats i stan. Ett liv som inte rymdes i det moderna samhället.

De var oense först. Mamma och Lydia tyckte att det var onödigt, omotiverat. Omtänksamt och medmänskligt, ja. Men det fanns ju gränser. Och Leopold, som var så svårpratad och tafatt. Där fanns en nyfiken glimt i ögonen, med också en distanserad otillgänglighet. Kanske blygsel? Hur som helst blev Leopold kvar och nu var han självklar. Han hade blivit lite av en gårdskarl. Han bodde i sin husvagn från påsk till allhelgona. Under de mörka vintermånaderna gick han i ide i sin lilla etta i Luleå. Pappa hade berättat att lägenheten var spartanskt inredd, med en bäddsoffa i det stora rummet som han bäddade upp varje kväll, en välfylld bokhylla, ett köksbord med två stolar i köket och så en liten byrå i hallen. Det var allt. Han behövde inte mer, sa han, Leopold. Välstädat var det också, med fina gardiner dessutom. Under vintermånaderna kom Leopold upp till byn nån helg nu och då. Han gick med snöskor ner till älven och tittade till husvagnen, skottade av taket.

Sjuttioårsdagen, den första födelsedag Leopold firat sedan har var barn, då blev det fest. Lydia brukade tänka på den där festen, inte för att hon var med, utan för att historien fascinerade henne. Förresten var det inga kvinnor alls med på den där festen, bara män från byn och samhället. Leopold fick en uppblåsbar docka i fullstorlek av sina nya vänner. Nadja döpte de henne till, hon var blond, med uppspärrade ögon och vidöppen mun. Ibland stack huvudet upp i fönstret när Lydia gick förbi. Mamma var upprörd över nakenheten, tyckte det såg för illa ut. Hon skänkte en klänning till Nadja, en blågrön storblommig städrock.

”Leopold får självklart bo kvar. Pappa ville ju ha det så” sa Lydia.

”Jag tänkte nästan det. Jaha, ja då var det bara en sak kvar.”

Karin reste sig upp och drog reflexmässigt handen över den skrynkelfria kjolen. Hon gick fram till ett stort, gammaldags kassaskåp i bortre änden av rummet och öppnade den tunga dörren. Det gnisslade svagt av osmorda gångjärn. Hon sträckte sig in i dunklet och återvände till Lydia med ett skrin av silverfärgad metall i sina händer. Bestämda steg över golvet och så skrinet alldeles nära, bytte famn.

”Här Lydia, en sista hälsning från din mor. Hon överlämnade skrinet till mig på sjukhuset, bara två dagar innan hon gick bort.”

Lydia stum med skrinet tungt i famnen. Hamrad silvrig metall, välarbetat. Såg det inte indiskt ut? Den knaggliga ytan, med ingraverade sirliga slingringar som vindlande fram. Locket, Lydia provade. Nej, det var låst.

”Du har visst redan fått nyckeln?”

Lydias hand flög upp mot den långa kedjan som hon bar runt halsen. Kinderna blossande nu, pulsen sprängande i tinningarna och nyfikenheten som fladdrade runt i mellangärdet, brottades med oron, klumpen i maggropen.

”Öppna skrinet i lugn och ro där hemma”.

Lydia nickade och reste sig, plötsligt så bråttom. Tog i hand och tackade för sig. Skyndade till bilen med blicken på skrinet.

***

När hon kom hem var känslan av brådska försvunnen. Ingenstans fanns den. Inte heller nyfikenheten. Lydia saktade in på stegen och blev stående framför den tunga guldspegeln i hallen, tog sig en ordentlig titt på sin egen spegelbild. Tyckte att hon började känna igen kvinnan där mitt emot. Tyckte att hon sett henne förut och tänkte att hon gillade henne. Hur lång tid hade det gått, sedan den där garderobsröjningskvällen, när hon stod här framför spegeln i den gamla Takano-overallen, med pappas urna i sina händer?  Det var i början av juni, nu var det snart september. I tid räknat inte mer än tre månader. Ändå en evighet sedan.

fotologic had another busy weekend in the studio &  on location with models. On Saturday we had a photo shoot in the studio with Callum, who some may recognise from the William Brookes Prom & the James Bond night with fotologic event photography

Callum came on a location shoot with Lydia on Sunday to Ironbridge, we were incredibly lucky to have a break in the weather, although it was still quite chilly even though the sun was shining.

Here are a few images from the day

I lördags var vi på PROMS-konserten i Göteborg Det var roligt, jag träffade Charlotte Perelli Hihi jag var längre än henne när hon inte hade klackar xD FILM FRÅN PROMS

Igår tränade vi (Vi= Jag, Emelie, Emlia & Alice) agility på OBK, vi hittade på en liten bana På söndag är det ju tävling, KM på OBK

Nu ska jag plugga Imorn ska vi på gymnasiemässa i Uddevalla med skolan…

På lördag ska jag se New Moon på bio!!!

Hundar är inte hela världen, men de gör världen hel…