Achievement

Achievement, originally uploaded by blue eyes.

This often overlooked bust of (aaack...I don't know her name!) on the campus of the University of Iceland is symbolic of womanly achievement in the realm of the scholastic arts. And speaking of achievement, I somehow managed to pass all my classes and will be presented with my teaching credential later this month. My daughter said, "Of course you passed everything, Mamma," and my mother asked, rhetorically, if I'd ever failed anything in my life, but honstly I was seriously doubting that I'd make it through the last month of essay writing and exams. I joke that I had to learn to type with one finger and a sleeping baby in the crook of my arm, but that's less of a joke than it sounds! I honestly have to thank my beautiful, patient Valentina for keeping me encouraged through the final haul. And of course little Óðinn for being such a sweet sweet baby. I should also mention my core instructor, Hafdís Ingvarsdóttir for totally believing in my potential as an English teacher. What a powerhouse that woman is!

Life here is good and sometimes sunny and everyone is buying new barbeques and people with summer houses are splurging on hot tubs and the young and free are getting out their shorts and sunglasses and drinking chilled summer beers. Political life is beyond my comprehension, with ministers switching seats in some bizzare grownup version of musical chairs, but no one seems to care. The krona is not so very strong these days and gas is over $6 a gallon, but that isn't stopping anyone from spending like money grows on trees. That's the start of summer for you...full of hope and life and endless days that anyone in a northern clime would be foolish to not take advantage of. Skál fyrir því!

The Bridge

Yep, we popped off to Northern California for a week's stay pretty much the day after I turned in my last assignments at University. We took the very first direct flight of the season to San Francisco, a trip that takes a relatively easy seven+ hours if all goes as planned. It's a Major Improvement over stopover flights and made it especially easy to travel with Óðinn (Valentina is always easy to travel with.) At six weeks old, he basically slept the entire time there and back. Dad calls him a miracle baby... : )

SF is always beautiful, and we particularly lucked out on this day since it had rained buckets the day before. We took a break from shopping and hiked up to the top of Buena Vista Hill, overlooking lower Haight, meeting a few squirrels, a little black dog and some sweet old Italian tourist ladies on the way. Valentina thought it would be fun to run down the hill but I nixed that plan; instead she cartwheeled the entire descent. Crazy girl!

The beauty of this one-week trip was that we didn't have to say too many big goodbyes: my parents are moving back to Reykjavik after forty years in Northern California in just two weeks time, and my sister's clan will be coming late summer. One week was actually just perfect...we got off the Lava Rock for a much needed reality check (otherwise known as a shopping spree, American style) and found that we were more than happy to return home. And that's exactly how a vacation should be!

BBQ

Once again, just a short post...

I encountered this wacky group of young people having a grill party at the base of sculptor Einar Jónsson's Úr Álögum, (anyone want to translate that for us...my brain's on holiday) just the other side of the Reykjavik town lake. Alas, I was late for a very important date and so couldn't stop to find out who these spunky rebels were.

Now, as charming and Sunday-in-the-Park-like as this looks, I'm sure it wasn't legal, so I applaude them for doing it anyway. They were happy and casual and I'm sure they packed their trash, so I hope they got to down some hot dogs before being asked to leave. This town needs more good old-fashioned public outdoorsy stuff like this to make better use of our greenways and bring social life out into the sunshine while we've got it. Croquet, anyone?

May Sunset

I'll let this one speak for itself...

(p.s. this was taken from our balcony at around 11 pm in early May.)

Springtime!

After weeks of night-snows and slushy rainfall, spring weather has finally arrived And none too soon. We're experiencing serious cabin fever here as we've not been able to take Óðinn Flóki Þorgeirsson outside (and yep, that's his name everyone!) It's recommended that new babie sdon't go out for strolls here in the sub-arctic until they are 4 kilos, and he's just topped 3 a month into waking life. So we still won't be taking walks with a carriage yet, but at least we can feel more comfortable opeing windows and letting some air in knowing he's steadily gaining the extra fat he needs to stay warm by himself.

So, about the name. Most people know who Óðinn is, as in super-god of the Norse pantheon. But Óðinn is also Toggi's father's name. Toggi is formally known as Þorgeir Frímann Óðinsson (remember, the letter Þ makes a th sound), so now we have a Þorgeir-son-of-Óðinn and an Óðinn-son-of-Þorgeir in the family. And a Valentína Jóhannsdóttir (daughter-of-Jóhann) and a María Þórisdóttir, otherwise known as Roff. So none of us have the same last names, and one of us (me) have two! Got that?

About his middle name, Flóki. It literally means complex or knotted. As in solving a mysstery can be flóki, or a ball of yarn can become flækt which is the conjugated version of the word. Historically, the name is associated with Hrafn-Flóki who was supposedly the guy who thought Iceland would be a good name for this not-so-icy island. And then there's Alfreð Flóki, Iceland's premier surrealist, who passed away in 1987. Toggi, as an artist, liked the idea that the name, which we simply like for the way it sounds and looks, references one of Iceland's more intriguing creative minds.

Siblings

Thank you all for your wonderful comments!

Here's a sweet shot of Valentina with her little brother ... he needs a little extra fuel each day bottle-wise, and this time I let her help out.

Got to go...baby's calling!

Portrait

And here is...our little one, as yet unnamed, which I know drives Americans crazy. But here in Iceland many people choose not to reveal the name of their babies until they are christened at two or three months old. We have a "working title" for him, but so far we haven't found a name that sticks to him undeniably. Relatives have opinions about what he should be called, but we simply won't be swayed. He has a proper name, we just have to find out what it is!

Anyway, he's the picture of health at two and a half weeks old, even if he did show a certain impatience by arriving five weeks early (due date: April 23, birthday: March 25). He does all the things newborns love to do, like drink, sleep and make a fuss. He's got us all dancing around his needs, as little ones are wont to do, but we're happy to oblige. He is, after all, so little: five and a half pounds and just under twenty inches long.

We're very pleased to meet this new life, all of us except Mio the cat, who isn't quite sure what kind of creature it is that's taken over his spot on the bed. Mio is actually bigger and much heavier than Baby, and so has been banned from hopping up on the furniture or into our laps...it wouldn't be pretty if he were to misjudge his landing! He's crazy curious and pretty offended that we've chosen to bring a new life into the home, but he'll get over it, I'm sure.

A nurse came today to weight Baby and offer me any support I might need. it's actually vey nice: she'll come by once a week for the first five or six weeks to check his progress as well as my own and the family's - one of the benefits of socialized health care. That and the fact that I didn't have to pay a dime for the care I received before, during and after his birth, nearly three weeks of hospital time between the two of us in total. We've been given an almost overwhelming amount of medical attention, mostly along the lines of preventive care for premature births. The doctors and nurses had to admit though, after a nine day post-natal watch, that he was perfectly healthy (sjö, níu, þrettán) and and deserved to go home, a brilliant decision indeed!