My New Addiction

Farm Town

I know, I know, it is just a stupid Facebook game. But I am hooked and probably should not admit I plan parts of my day around it but what can I do - I need to harvest!

So I plant crops, hire help, harvest, work for others and always work to upgrade my farm. Need more land.....

I hope this madness stops soon.

I need to get back to my blog.

Extra Cash!

I was very surprised and happy to learn that the minimum payment for my maternity benefits is actually much higher then my wages now!

Normally I would only be entitled to 80% but because my entire wage falls so far below the line, I should get more then 20% more a month then I make now.

So I make more money having babies then I do working.

And who said this might not be the best time to have another one!

I am glad they have been adjusting the parental benefits to go along with inflation.

I wish they did not freeze my wages - It has not helped.

16 weeks

Today I had my real 16 week check up and everything is OK but could be going better.

My blood tests came back and my iron etc is fine, this is good news but I get retested in a month.

The not so good news is that because I have been puking too much I have lost weight since my last check up. Not much, just 1.5 kilos and you should not be losing weight at this point, at all.

She says I am a little dry, makes sense, I puke a lot of water!

So I am now on a temporary sick leave from work, just a few days for now, so I can 'focus on eating and relaxing'.

New plan, eat something small every hour. A cracker or an orange. And just sip the water.

I would not mind one of these peaceful pregnancies I hear about - the ones where the second trimester is full of rainbows.

But I have to admit, I should have seen this coming!

Pouting

Yesterday was supposed to be my 16 week check up.

I was really looking forward to it because I have been crazy sick and I actually had a lot of questions to ask, so when Davíð and I met there at 1 we were surprised to see the building was closed.

After waiting around about 10 min I called my midwife who was surprised to hear from me. I guess she had meant to tell me that she was not working Mondays anymore and reschedule my appointment. She was actually really sorry that she forgot to call.

I was a little angry now, I had been waiting, and worse, I was about to pee my pants because I was expecting the urine test and now there was no bathroom around.

She said she would call me at 3 or 4 to plan another time.

Day and I half later, I still have not heard anything and am feeling a little unimportant.

The tired cranky part of my brain says 'I don't need a check up anyways, stupid', the more reasonable part knows that I need to be tested for pregnancy diabetes because of how I have been feeling. I also know I need to have soemthing done about this puking because I am 16 weeks along now and have no appitite, puke up everything and have not gained anything.

And my midwife ignores me :(

Well, I go to Reykjavík in 11 days, maybe I should just wait? Although I know I should at least call her...

I know crazy

My mother taught me some very valuable lessons in life.

These are not the typical lessons about family or roles.

Having a complete schizophrenic mother taught me to spot other crazy people right away.

Sometimes too soon because others may not really see it yet, dismissing what I think are clear signs as interesting personality traits. Or they might think they are imagining things.

This is a personal warning list for myself:

• Considers themselves the most important person around, possibly invincible.
  
• Does strange things like wears a pair of sun glasses inside. Really dark sunglasses, when it is not that bright, INSIDE.
  
• Changes views on every possible issue or question, depending on the time of day.
• Changes entire attitude, sometimes in the blink of an eye.

I try to avoid these people, at all costs. But sometimes it is unavoidable.

The sun glasses really gets me, my mother did that all the time. Sitting around in the dark with sun glasses on.

A co worker did the same thing the other day, gave me nightmares.

The stuff nightmares are made of

Sometimes things get a little overwhelming, but still we must try.

http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/capt_charles_moore_on_the_seas_of_plastic.html

Scavenger's Manifest?

OK, so I do not know where this really came from, but I copied and pasted from a couch surfing post because, it reminded me of home.

I miss living in a place where everyone used second hand stuff, the better the deal or free - well the more to be proud of.

You could brag about free stuff.

Now I live in Iceland and I try to raise my children with similar values as I know. But it is tricky because consumerism is thriving, even in the economic crisis, some people still seem to be out shopping.

I would like to see a little freecycling here, using something again.

In a small town with no place to donate things, everything goes in the garbage.

I guess it was lucky for me because when I needed stuff, I had lots. But people are now asking when I will buy new stuff.

Why should I? This stuff still works?

A little less garbage and a little less on the Visa.

Karen Jettmar posted this message to: Iceland

The following is an adapted excerpt from The
Scavenger's Manifesto (Tarcher Press, 2009) by Anneli
Rufus and Kristan Lawson.

My eyes are lighthouse beacons. Enroute to a family
gathering, I spot a box marked FREE on a curb. This,
right here, is the meaning of life. Swim goggles: Yes.
Pink T-shirt: Yes. Blender: I already have one, so no.
"Kiss Me, I'm Irish" apron: No. Six bars of hotel
soap, sealed in their wrappers: Yoink. Into the
backpack pops the salad fork, the crocheted scarf.
Assess each in a nanosecond. Do I want this? Do I need
it? Does my friend?

When they ask at the family gathering why I am late and
I say I was garnering a stranger's discards, they
laugh. When they realize I am serious, they flinch,
their faces masks of pity, fear, disgust. They ask:
But why? Weren't those discards dirty? What if someone
bled on that T-shirt? Can't you afford a salad fork?

Oh, that. Scavengers hear it all the time.

And more:

What if it doesn't fit?

What if it's dented/scratched/stained/

faded/ripped? Wouldn't you rather pick the exact color/style/size/features you want? Um, no. In consumer culture, the very idea of getting stuff by any means outside the standard retail channel at any speed but warp speed is sacrilege. A sin. In corporate America, not-shopping is treason. An abomination. Yet a confluence of factors — style, politics, technology, ecology and the economy — is making more and more of us seek more and more alternate (but legal) means of acquiring stuff. We're scavengers. We're consumer culture's cleanup crew. Goods and services circle the world, connecting strangers: not a penny spent. The Book of Genesis damns us. And the Book of Leviticus deems us untouchable. We are thrift-shoppers, coupon-clippers, bargain-hunters, beachcombers, trash-pickers. We are treasure-seekers, recyclers, freecyclers. We don't steal. We don't scam. But we don't pay full-price. We don't pay at all if we can help it. Two thousand years ago, half the world's population survived by hunting and gathering. With the rise of civilization, old-fashioned hunting and gathering became virtually obsolete. But all modern-day scavengers are hunter-gatherers. Define hunter-gathering as foraging, taking what comes. Define it as sublimating choice to the bigger thrill of chance. It translates to saving money and potentially working less. It translates to dodging whatever market sector some genius thinks you belong to. Modern scavenging means wearing, using and eating castoff goods from countless strangers, thus you cannot be predicted, tracked, deciphered. You are the mystery. With lighthouse eyes, you find furniture, fashions, art, appliances, jewelry, food. You scavenge seeds. Sometimes you do not know what they are when you plant them, and find out only when plants rise: My garden grows parsley, purple tomatillos, three kinds of bok choy. You never know. That is the point. That is the challenge and the payoff and the thrill: the never knowing, then the waiting, then the finding out. Can you handle uncertainty? This is the magic, the apotheosis, of the random. In a paved world, modern scavengers reclaim discovery. Adventure. Self-reliance. Self-sufficiency. The modern scavenger reclaims the quest. Some scavenge for fun. Some scavenge to save. Money. The world. Their souls. While consumers around us drown in debt, we liberate ourselves with every cent we save while liberating would-be trash. We know the difference between brand-new, full-price products and their dented, scavenged counterparts is — Debt. Some scavenge to recycle. Repurpose. Reduce. Reuse. Some scavenge to revolt. Some scavenge to survive. Some scavenge for the sake of spontaneity. That is another primal ecstasy that consumer culture has quashed. Consumer culture wants consumers to imagine themselves free and democratic, decisive and bold. Consumer culture teaches that choosing the color of your phone is creativity. Up to a point, it is. A tiny calculated creativity comprising elements designed and sold by corporations. Control disguised as creativity. A short-leashed independence based on your ability and willingness to buy. But what is missing from this picture? It's funny: Consumers think they're free. How do we tell them how it is for us? How do we tell them that, for us, old stuff and stuff that has been previously owned attains a patina, almost a soul? How do we say that every find not only saves us cash but makes us wonder whose it was, our minds skittering down the years of all those whens and whys. How do we tell consumers that mass-produced new merchandise bores and depresses us? How do we say that it is we who pity them when they spend $90 on the same shoes that cost (or will, soon) $6 at the thrift shop? How can we describe the size of landfills, the islands of trash — ten million pounds' worth, experts say — floating at sea? Do we cite findings by the Clean Air Council that every American alive discards fifty-six tons of trash per year? I last bought an umbrella thirteen years ago in Hong Kong. Since then, I have found them: striped ones, plain ones, plaid ones, flowered ones, large, small, fold-up or not. One replicates a painting by Renoir. Their former owners left them behind on benches and buses, leaning against walls under pay phones and ATMs. I buy my groceries at discount stores, bruised fruit marked down. Faced with a choice, I always ask: Is there a way to do this/get this/eat this legally for free? I have been this way all my life. It is a reflex. Not scavenging feels unnatural. To me, ten dollars is a lot. How can I tell consumers this? Here's what they see: In one sense, nothing. In one sense, we are invisible. But when they search, they see: Scavengers touch the ground. How gross. Who dares finger the sidewalk and the street? The scavenger as vector. Roaches, rats and vultures spring to mind — and football teams are not named after them. We do not spend enough to please consumers. Worse, we do not spend at all. Consumer culture hates this. We touch trash. Consumer culture fears this. We think for themselves. Consumer culture hates and fears this most of all. Scavengers are the last scapegoats in an almost-open-minded world. We're freaks. No matter how or why we scavenge, even if we’re just re-using Christmas ribbon or picking fruit from branches that overhang the sidewalk, we are radical. Without half trying, we are capitalism's naughty children, sprinting through the gate. By rejecting the standard retail cycle, scavengers reverse the basic order of consumerthink, which is: want-get. From infancy, consumers learn that whatever they want, they get. Must. Will. Right now. For scavengers, however, it's get-want. We find whatever, then decide whether we want it. Then — take it. Or leave it for a later scavenger. Committing yourself to not buying things full-price mandates having to wait. That is: waiting until something approximating your desire surfaces at the local thrift shop, yard sale, swap. It might mean waiting for the seeds on those strawberries and tomatoes you buried in your backyard to sprout. You just get used to waiting. While you wait, you realize how little you really need. We do not expect to get everything we want. Thus we want less. We always get something, sooner or later. But in flipping the equation, in embracing want-get, scavengers trade choice for chance. We trade control for the lightning flash of surprise. We sing their anthem backwards. No wonder we scare them. Broke a shoelace? Ran out of giftwrap? Consumers replace lost or broken things right now with perfect replicas, brand-new, full-price. Not us. Scavengers improvise. For us, absent and broken things are hassles but brain-teasers too. Wrap presents in calendar pages. Knot the shoelace, or replace it with wire, yarn or dental floss. Repurpose. Found something you think is useless? Use it. Cut-up mousepads become coasters. Doors are tabletops. Trophies, bolted to walls, are coat-hooks. Bandannas make dandy halter tops. Ever resourceful, scavengers plumb inner strengths. I am emerging from the rummage sale with seven white porcelain sake cups, a map of Uruguay, a pillowcase embroidered by someone sometime somewhere, and a baking pan shaped like a guitar. What will I do with these, and when? Scavenging links us to each other, to all former owners and all future owners of whatever we have now. Yet ultimately we are on our own. Scavenging forces us to feel and act and think. I was out walking when a thought occurred to me which I longed to write down. I had no utensil, no pad. I was miles of sterile suburban sidewalk from the nearest store. I found a paper clip. I tore part of an outdated announcement from a phone pole. Unbending the clip, I scratched my thought with it into the blank side of the paper. Later, held up to the light at home, the letters revealed themselves like cuneiform. I know: absurd. I do not ask you to admire this. I only ask you not to mock it. The dictionary defines economics as the study of "the production, distribution, and consumption of goods and services." What's missing from that picture? Um — what comes after consumption? Mainstream economic theory has glossed over this bothersome detail for centuries. It went like this: Consumer buys product. Consumer brings product home. Consumer consumes product. The end. But hey: Will that consumer utilize that product forever, until the end of time? Of course not. Eventually, in five minutes or fifty years, the product — providing we are not talking about food or drink here — will become broken and/or outdated and/or unwanted and/or its owner will die, and/or sundry other eventualities could occur which land that item in the trash. And then? Welcome to the world of scavenomics. To paraphrase Kristan Lawson, who coauthored The Scavengers' Manifesto with me: Scavenomics picks up where economics traditionally leaves off. Scavenomics is that other, too-long-ignored half of the cycle: the part that occurs after consumption. And just how do products find their way back to "production" at the so-called beginning of the cycle? Scavengers are the driving force for this hidden half of the story. We are the ones who take society's trash and either re-use it, introducing it back into the middle of the standard economic system (i.e. trash is rechristened as goods for distribution and consumption), or recycle it, introducing the material back at the starting point of the system (i.e. trash is reprocessed into raw material for production). Modern economic theory is not as blind as it used to be. These days, recycling is regarded as a valid economic activity, as yet another way to make money. (Re-using and re-purposing, however, are pretty much still off the radar screen.) But to the extent that it's been considered at all by economists, scavenging is regarded as a behavioral problem, a sort of consumer dysfunction that prevents people from properly purchasing and consuming their fair share of stuff. If too many people scavenge instead of buy retail, then the economy won't grow and a disastrous recession ensues. (Sound familiar?) But the reverse can also be bad: mindless, endless over-production, overconsumption, and then overdisposal. Hence, those endless tons of trash. Scavenging as a naturally occurring method of acquisition puts the brakes on what otherwise might be a runaway train of capitalism; by opting out of the consumer cycle, scavengers slow the system down to a reasonable pace. If there is over-production, and everybody buys too much stuff, then sooner or later some of that stuff will be discarded, and if enough gets discarded, then an increasing number of people will see that the products they used to buy can now be scavenged for free. Once a sufficient number of people become scavengers, they stop buying new stuff, and production thereby slows down to sustainable levels. But the opposite is also true: If everybody starts scavenging, then production ceases entirely because no one is buying. But if nothing is being produced, then the inventory of scavengeable goods will shrink and finally disappear, and then (after scavengers harm or kill each other while fighting over the last few scavengeables) demand will rise again for new stuff, and production will restart. When a society such as Japan's in the 1980s engages in reckless overproduction and overconsumption, the principles of scavenomics dictate that a collapse is bound to happen. When a society such as current-day sub-Saharan Africa depends too much on scavenging (in this case on donated goods and food), that too portends economic havoc. Scavenomics is the economics of self-regulating moderation. One of the principles of scavenomics is to unleash the creative power of scavengers. Often we, and only we, can find ways to use discards. A real-world example comes from the realm of chocolate production. For centuries, cocoa farmers simply threw out the husks left over after shelling cocoa pods. But in recent years, entrepreneurial scavengers thought of selling the otherwise worthless cocoa husks as gardening mulch, because so many consumers love anything that smells like chocolate, as the husks do. So today, many nurseries sell scavenged cocoa-husk mulch. Multiply that scenario by thousands of times and the power of scavenomics becomes clear. So green economics and scavenomics are not always in opposition. Often they are complementary, and scavenomics can be viewed as a subset or a variant of green economics. Economic activity is not a line, but a circle. A continuous cycle. The missing steps are: this manufactured or refined material, whatever it might be, is eventually used up or becomes broken or obsolete or unwanted, and is then discarded. And then somewhere, somehow, by somebody or something, it all gets fed back into the beginning of the system and the cycle begins all over again. This can happen on a very short time-scale (the discarded product is immediately scavenged and re-used or re-purposed) or on a medium time-scale (discarded products are broken down into their original constituents and recycled back as the raw material for manufacture) or on an extremely long time scale, in which everything is at first just unceremoniously "thrown away," which essentially means returned to the Earth far from its point of origin in a new place such as a landfill or a dump, and perhaps a million, or ten million, or who-knows-how-many years in the future, some distant civilization will discover a rich "deposit" of iron ore in a location formerly known as Melvin's Salvage Yard and U-Find-It Car Parts Emporium. The goal of scavenomics is not simply to focus attention on this missing step of the economic cycle, but to minimize the time frame and energy expenditure of that step. So, from a scavenomics point of view, waste disposal is the least desirable and least efficient behavior, because the raw materials contained in the trash become lost to us for an extremely long time. Recycling is one step better, because the aluminum molecules or cellulose fibers are reintroduced into the human ecosystem as raw materials fairly rapidly, with a moderate amount of energy expended. But scavenging is the gold standard of economic efficiency, or at least of this part of the economic cycle. Because when anything that is unwanted and discarded gets scavenged and re-used or re-purposed, it immediately re-enters the global economy with practically no energy expenditure at all. It doesn't need sit around for a million years turning to rust or topsoil. It doesn't need to be shipped to China and melted down and recast as ingots and then shipped to a factory and turned into a simulacrum of whatever it was in the first place, to be then transported to other continents in pollution-spewing ships, trucks, trains and planes. Without having to travel anywhere, or use any energy, the scavenged object once again becomes useful to humankind, without any processing or time-wastage whatsoever. You can't get more efficient than that. When you scavenge, you absorb other people's pollution as would a sponge. Not only do you lower your carbon footprint, but you also consume less and thus lower your "economic footprint." When you reuse or recycle other people's trash, you decrease their economic footprint as well. It's nice to help strangers. But scavenging is work. Getting stuff, getting enough stuff to survive or to even call yourself a scavenger requires discipline. Skills. Special knowledge, as does any other profession or sport — and scavenging is both. First, see. Scan every surface, every crevice of every landscape for telltale colors, shapes and signs that literally or figuratively say: TAKE ME. Scavengers sleep with eyes half-open. For us, this is basic math: The more you see, the more you save. Observe, retrieve. Experiment. Forever ask: What's this? A public trained to demand brand-new brand-name products is a public drained of curiosity. Consumers are brainwashed to replicate the same exact sensations time after time as if that was happiness. They do not wonder how another product by another brand might taste or feel or what would happen if I went without this? In consumer culture, such thoughts are anathema. Enough such thoughts would smash the system. Industries bank on incuriosity. Accept. Taking what comes, scavengers tolerate what comes. You've never worn a poncho or listened to Turkish techno music? If that's what you've found, that's what you do. For us, diversity is a necessity. Each act of scavenging is one step out of safe, clean, streamlined social normalcy. We take trash home. Thus we must overcome some primal instincts, drilled into us all our lives. First we must overcome our fear of misbehavior, those imaginary angry-mommy slaps on our hands, angry-mommy voices in our heads hissing Don't steal, because scavengers are not stealing — the first Scavenging Commandment is Thou shalt not take what rightfully belongs to someone else. Then we must drown out Angry Mommy snapping Don't touch that, it's dirty, because yes, it is, but it won't kill me and I want it and I'm grown-up now. Most scavengeables are not clean or perfect when we find them. Some are dirty, just as Mommy warned, and they're dinged-up or scuffed or past their sell-by dates. So we must overcome another reflex, the age-old terror of contagion, once legitimate but now unwarranted in an era of hot water and antibacterial soap. I can wash this, and I can wash myself after taking it home. Until that washing, we must tolerate the presence of this unclean, damaged thing in our hands, pockets, purses, backpacks, cars. Collecting castoffs keeps us humble. Watching, waiting, going with the flow means scavengers are accidental Taoists. So is this religion? Well — How do you define religion? As a source of values? Check. Source of hope? Check. Source of compassion? Check. Compassion in the sense that we cannot help but wonder about those former owners: Who were they? How and why did they part with this? On purpose or not? If so, in anger or in apathy? Did they regret it afterwards? Where are they now — happy or sad, alive or dead? Standard consumption affords no such touchstones. Brand-new full-price items just reflect consumers back upon themselves. Is religion a source of charity? Check, albeit mostly inadvertent. Strangers transfer souvenirs into our safekeeping without intending to, neither knowing nor caring who we are. By becoming their beneficiaries, we transform them into benefactors. We transform their loss and their waste into generosity. Thus we redeem them from themselves. Is religion a way to heal the world? Is religion surrender? Check. In a consumer culture, choosing not to choose is brave. No towels in your bathroom match, and some who visit you might actually care. The scavenger surrenders to the magic and, depending on your level of commitment, the cruel humor of the random. One day when you are out and it turns very cold and you are unprepared, you notice, through the window of a laundromat, a box of items which, unclaimed after a few weeks in the lost-and-found, the manager put out. The box says FREE. Along with insubstantial slips and single socks you find a heavy sweatshirt. It says FIREMEN HAVE LONGER HOSES. It is clean. You're cold. Six hours remain before you can go home. You put it on. Another day, two guys are handing out free bookbags on the college campus near your job. The bookbags bear the logo of the college polyamory club. You are not polyamorous. But these are well-made bags, the right size and shape for your gym gear. Passersby will misread you and misinterpret you, based on the bag. You might not mind. The most committed scavenger would say: I must not mind. Is this religion? Other scavenging commandments: Don't break laws. Don't be aggressive or abusive. Don't leave messes in your wake. Don't harm plants, animals or people. Don't endanger your safety or health. Don't gross yourself out just to prove a point. Don't be a parasite. Don't mooch. Consumer culture is a shiny sparkly whirling waste-producing world-engulfing pick-your-favorite-product fusillade at hyperspeed, nonstop. We wish not to participate. Except to follow, gathering detritus, in its wake. We might look like consumers but no: We are the fringe-dwellers, the bottom-feeders, living in the realm of never-knowing. We are the revelers and rescuers out here among the lost and the abandoned and the trashed, the designated-worthless which we pluck and scrub and sometimes love. We know what is worth what.

Maybe a good idea

Like any other school, the school in Þórshöfn has a bit of a bullying issue.

Unlike a lot of school, this one decided to tackle it head on.

Maybe because of the size of the town or the closeness of the community, what ever it is - everyone considers the problem theres. Even if it is not there kid being picked on.

So here is the plan - already put into action.

All the kids in the school were divided into groups of 3 or 4, with there age. The first groups set up specifically paired up the bullied kids with bully's.

Now once a week, for at least 2 hours, these kids will play together, under supervision of parents.

So every third week I get Kasper and 2 kids he his age are are not his friends. We get to do something fun and adults need to stay involved to keep things straight.

The goal is to force these kids into being friends, or at least excepting that the other kids can be fun and are not so different then themselves.

Last week was the first time. Kasper went with the boys and 2 parents sledding, then out for hot chocolates.

I know one group that spent Friday evening in the bar playing pool. Doubles with rotating partners so everyone worked together.

I guess I am just happy to see people taking such an interest in children still.

Despite the crisis in Iceland now, some people are still working on the basics I life, like trying to make sure the kids grow into decent people.

Doing it cheap

How to do Iceland cheap or free. http://wiki.stealthiswiki.org/wiki/Free_Iceland

We added our bit about some buses, and there are other useful tips - even if I personally would not steal pizza from a trash bin.

17%

While North America is enjoying interest rates of 0.25%, Iceland is also getting a break.
Our rates have now been slashed to 17%, what a bargain! I guess that it is better then 18%.
So will my mortgage payment be a little less this month?

Weekend Plans

Every weekend, starting Friday night, is packed with a million plans.

A good movies, extra house cleaning, extra hours at work, special plans with the kids, sleeping in, fixing stuff around the house, possible road trip?

Every weekend goes something like this, and every Sunday afternoon when we realize that almost none of these things were done, we feel bad.

Somethings were done, like I did get some sleep, Davíð took the boys out snow mountain climbing and I got half the extra cleaning done.

I guess the microwave will have to wait until tomorrow, or next weekend. I am far to tired now.

But why do this? Set myself with impossible goals, then feel horrible when I can not obtain them.

I wonder if everyone does the same thing. Why can't we just relax on the weekend?

sword fighting 2

Sword fighting

Here is Davíð teaching the boys the skills they will need in life,

and it is always fun and games until someone gets hit in the eye - and it happens every time.

But this is also a favorite pass time when you live in a place where it is not practical to go outside for days at a time.

Everything

So here are a few pictures that I have been collecting on my camera.
Just time to get them out here.

A little different this time

That is the big question. What ever one want to know - Are you as sick as the other two?

With Kasper and Stefán I thought I was going to die - no exaggeration. I puked everyday, probably every hour or 2 for 9 months. A nightmare.

This time is different. I only puke 2 or 3 times a day - leading to stories that this might be a girl. But still, being done my first trimester now the nausea should be lifting but is actually only getting worse by the week, not better.

But this is better then last time, or the time before.

The only thing that is not better is the exhaustion. I blame age, I am almost 28 now and I was much younger with the others, but still, 28 is not so old is it?

I seem to need 12 hours of sleep at night, an afternoon nap and not to much moving around after 5.

How am I supposed to get anything done like this?

Low iron might be the problem, Im checking on it. But I need energy, now.

Another difference is the belly. At only 14 weeks I can certainly tell that I am pregnant, even though I have not gained any weight yet.

I hear they are all different and I have plenty more time to compare.

Really happy and really sad

I am happy to be pregnant and was really happy to hear that my sister in law is expecting as well. We have due dates only a few weeks apart.

I thought it would be so cool to be pregnant with someone else. Have the baby talks and have baby's the same age. Cousins that would always be the same age. Guaranteed friends for life.

It sounds like a fairy tale, and life is not a fairy tale.

The fact is we live 9 hours apart - our lives almost a world apart that only really comes together on holidays.

This was the same with my family in Canada. While I lived in Edmonton, most of my family lived about 7 hours a way.

Honestly, I rarely saw them and have not seen anyone in almost three years now.

It is more sad to know that When I was pregnant with Stefán my sister was pregnant with her first boy, Matt. They were born less then 3 months apart. They should have been guaranteed friends for life.

I wish she was here.

But we lived so far apart. It is true that when we did see each other they got along great. I have super funny pictures, but now they do not remember each other. Hardly even speak the same language. I do not know if they will ever be these perfect cousins I dreamed of. Certainly not with me living in Iceland.

So, this is the problem with marrying someone from another country. You can not have everything.

If we live in Saskatchewan, my boys will have a Grandpa, uncles, aunt and cousins the same age. I would have a sister to have coffee with, maybe be pregnant with again, a dad to have Christmas dinner with and brothers to fix stuff for me.

And Davíð would spend his days dreaming of Iceland.

While we live in Iceland the boys have another aunt and uncle, other cousins (also the same age), an Amma and an Afi. Davíð has a sister he looks up to so much and parents who would support him through anything.

And I spend my days dreaming of Canada and wondering if I will ever fit in here.

This all not even mentioning Davíð's family in Toronto.

This is not to say the everyone has not been great to me, really, it is amazing.

The point is, as the ties strengthen in Iceland, I feel like I am being pulled further and further from the rest.

After all there is only so many times you can show kids the same pictures and tell the same stories before they just stop listening and walk away.

September 11th

now it is official. I am 13 weeks pregnant and am due september 11, 2009.

sorry it took so long to admit it, I had to tell my dad before I told you.

Easy Donuts

So what do you do for fun when you live in the middle of nowhere?

You amuse yourself - try something new, maybe crafts, cooking or postcards.

This fabulous Saturday we are making donuts. They are great and so ridiculously easy I can not believe I waited till kdays to have them before.

Just:
2 cups flour
2 eggs
2 teaspoons baking powder
i cup milk
bit of vanilla and a bit of cinamin
mix up then add flour till the the dough is tough

in pot heat up oil to about 320 f .

spoon the tough into oil - it make little balls.

they will turn over on there own when cooked on one side.

remove when browned.

great stuff.

Movie Night

Every Friday is movie night in our house. An excuse for chips, pop and staying up late.

Last night we decided to watch the boy in the stripped pajamas. I should thankful that Stefán passed out before it even started.

We thought it would be a good family movie - two boys being friends one German and one Jewish during WW2. We really could have researched it a little more, but it looked good.

So, we cried while trying to explain the situations in the movie to Kasper. It was a little more intense then I thought it would be.

So my 8 year old got a good history lesson last night - something he could relate with because the main characters were 8 year old boys.

I can not explain better with out ruining the movie - and I recommend it. The movie was great.

The case of the bad secretary.

A long long time ago my oldest son Kasper went to a private school names Ísaks Skóli.

The school itself was very good – the best we have seen in Iceland and as we all know, a good school does not come free. So we paid.

The price was 17 000 IKR a month, plus 3 800 for one hour of after school care a day. Expensive, but we felt it was worth it.

During the summer Kasper attended the school summer camp for the price of 10 500 a week. The camp was great.

Time goes by. We move to Þórshöfn, then one sunny afternoon last Wednesday we were served for court.

WHAT? ARE YOU JOKING?

NO, it seems that the school was in need of some money and hired a guy to come in and go over the book keeping – looking for people that did not pay.

The book keeping was a mess and in this mess they decided we owed a bunch of money, totaling about 60 000, but now we were being sued not just for the 60 000 but for costs.

First we called, this must be a mistake. No, the lawyer tells us, we have tried sending you many bills and notices since September.

Where did they send them? To the old house. They actually just noticed we moved when they tried to have us served for court there, so they served us here.

We did actually change our address with the registry and the post office as soon as we moved – but someone did not catch on.

The lawyer says none of this is his problem, in fact he was a complete ass. So we talked to his boss, the guy that went over the records and decided we owed money.

We told him we paid everything, that we never got any notices and we really do not need to be in court next week.

He said we had to prove it – and we did :)

After spending days digging through old bill, bank statement and papers we found it all. The paper from the registry when we changed our address, showing we were not hiding. The receipt from the post office from asking our mail to be forwarded, the post office is not so good with the mail anymore, but the mail anymore, but this is not my problem. And all the proof of payment for the school and summer camp fees.

Today we sent it all in. Everything was cleared up and we got an apology.

If I would have lived in Reykjavík I would have seen them in court just for fun. But it is not worth the 9 hour drive each way.

Lesson: Keep the papers.