We’ve been working for this for quite some time… and suddenly, this Monday, we were called in for a meeting, and asked if we could start in a week. That is, this coming Monday.

Start what? I hear you ask.

We’re going to take in young drop-outs on a daily basis on our little farm, in cooperation with the company that hubby works for, and the Norwegian social services.

So, this week has been rather hectic. The maximum number of kids is 15, and some of them will remain in town, to be guided in the complex world of education, apprenticeships and work experience. We’ve spent the week getting the local in town ready for them. The remainder of the group will come to us. We’ll have all sorts of activities, ranging from horseback riding, animal care, gardening, building, to cooking and crafts.

We know very little about their backgrounds, interests and challenges. Some may have psychological issues, some may have family problems. We’ll just have to learn as we go, and offer activities adapted to their individual levels of social and other skills, interests, and so on. Some may be hard put to get up in the morning, some will be rearing to go…

The first week, we’ll all be in town, getting to know each other, which gives us another week until they all come here. During that time, we’ll know more about what sort of activities are suited for them as well – and we’ll have time to do the finishing touches on the farm.

Exciting prospects, and it gives working from home a brand new meaning. Hubby will be spending most of his time here, as will I. We’ll both be earning good wages, and have an income from letting out the farm as well. So – in addition to making a difference (or so we hope) to people, our own financial quality of life will receive a major boost. Not a second too soon, to be honest.

I’m very, very excited – please wish us luck!

#1 Brat has come home from Africa, safe and sound, with loads of experiences in her luggage, as well as local crafts for everyone for Christmas. #2 Brat is well on the way with her design studies in Denmark – she’s a bit frustrated with the lack of structure within the school, but I guess that’s what you get when you choose a life within “the arts”…

Christmas has come and gone. It was the whitest in living memory around here, by Christmas Day we had around 20 inches of the white stuff. Since then, the temperatures have been stuck in the -20 – - 30 C, but yesterday spring arrived, and we’re now enjoying relative warmth with a measly -10. We did get one mildish day during the Christmas period too, and that’s when we went and did this:

Which was great fun, and a real dive into Winter Wonderland.

A very happy New Year to all!

I’m looking forward to 2010.

Photo: courtesy of Christina Aakervik

For those of you who read Norwegian (bwahahaha), allow me to introduce #1Brat’s blog – Hakuna Matata.

For those of you who don’t, I shall give you a brief summary:

The children think the three weird looking whities (mzungu) are the best thing since toasted bread. They are very much in need of physical contact and cuddles, and try to braid the girls’ hair whenever they can get their hands on it. The food is good, and preparing it is time consuming. (I hope we’ll be in for a treat when she gets home. Blogger’s note).

Every Wednesday and Thursday, the electricity is shut down, mainly to save water. Which means that the toilet is moved to a hole in the ground. They’ve been there just over a week, and they find this quite natural, and in some ways, better than the WC.

They’ve been off on excursions, on hired (manned) motorbikes, and in a local “bus” (matatu), which is a Hiace type vehicule, meant for 12-14, where one somehow manages to cram in 21… They’ve been searching for a working ATM (which took most of a day), and been to a giraffe sanctuary. They also tried to attend Sunday service, which this Sunday lasted from 9am to 3pm, as there was some sort of convention going on. They gave up after a while, but luckily, no one was offended.

The experience of being the “odd man out”, and being stared at, is new, slightly irritating, and gives food for thought.

Anything else? I don’t know if there is time for homesickness – I hope not. I wish my Brat all the best in this experience, and hope she makes friends for life. I’m sure she will fall in love with Africa – I believe most people do, once they’ve been there.

Stay safe, little girl, and enjoy!

The Brats are now back to school/travelling/have moved abroad. The ankle is still broken – that is: it’s been operated upon, fixed with several spare parts, and is not to be used for walking for another 4 weeks. Yours truly is moving about in a borrowed wheelchair, as crutches leaves one with no hands. No feet is quite enough, thank you!

I insert a pic taken on the occasion – for the squeamish amongst you: please don’t squeam, just scroll down.

And now, one taken 5 days later, after op # 2. (scroll on, scroll on…)

That was one summer well spent, I can tell you! This happened 3 days before our scheduled holiday, so I was popular with the Brats for a while too. Luckily, I was cooped up in hospital for a week and a half, so I avoided the ritual beheading that is fitting in those circumstances.

We’ve sent #2 Brat off to Denmark, together with a carload of stuff, most of which had no practical use, but loads of sentimental value. I remember the feeling… She’s now installed with her mattress, tiny table and sewing machine in a big, empty room. She has a kitchen with applyances, and a bathroom, so the basics are looked after. She also has to manage her own finances. Did I mention that I remember the feeling?

#1 Brat left for Kenya on Sunday. She is 20, so I had left most of the investigating to her. The result was that I got a name and contact number from her co-travellers at the airport… Back home, I googled the name, and found an amazing woman, Sarah Ngotho, who runs the Joy Children’s home near Nairobi. Please take the time to read her story, and about the home itself. # 1 Brat will work there as a volunteer for 4 months, while paying for her room and board. I believe this is one way these homes (and there are many of them!) manage to keep financially afloat. She’s worked all summer to be able to do this. Anyway – she’s arrived, is safe and sound, and probably in the midst of the experience of a lifetime.

What else? Hubby has a new job. He’s released from the slave labor camp he was in, and has got a job for a company who helps people to get back into the workplace. The pay is OK, and the hours are wonderfully adapted to family life. The bonus is that our little farm may be involved too. We have toyed with the idea for some time, of offering the use of this place for rehabilitation through activity/farm work/socializing. It looks as if this is now going to happen. Fingers crossed.

# 3 Brat has started his apprenticeship to become a carpenter, and # 4 has just started her first year in our equivalent to High School. # 5 is in second grade, and # 6 has just turned 3, and is insisting that he’s being home schooled…

That’s about it from here, I think. Oh, yes – it’s been a wet one.

Plumber alert is off. Theory # 1 is back in circulation. What, say you, is Theory # 1? Well, it has to do with #6Brat, strangely enough. As the hose on the pressure valve got totally out of control the other day, and I had to turn the heater off completely, I also turned the water intake to the thing off. And what happened when I was half way? No more gushing. I turned the electricity back on, had my shower, and came back to check the situation – nothing. It seems like Theory # 1, involving #6Brat and his busy little fingers, must have been right all along. The water valve is just at 2-year-old-level (must have been designed by a man), and fairly easy to twist.

As of now, I’m holding my thumbs, and I’ve taped the knob stuck in it’s current position. Just like the freezer thermostat, the knobs on the DVD and VHS players, TV and stereo system. And the stove. This place looks like an ad for packageing tape. The only problem is that I don’t have a remote control for the stove, so I have to unwrap it every time.

Oh, well. I hope he’ll gain some sense as he grows older.

He’s not glued to the TV screen 24/7 on weekends, he couldn’t care less if there’s a football match on, or skiing, or whatever. Sport is flicked over in our household.

Now, in my sister’s life, things are different. She has a football fanatic hubby, and three boys. Guess what they’ve inherited? A lifetime membership in the Manchester United (or perhaps Liverpool FC) fan club, that’s what. She’s a patient soul, and grateful for small mercies, like the fact that her hubby sometimes takes all three boys to football matches. In England.

As for me, I don’t get it. I quite like swimming, but not to the point of watching other people doing it. I’ve also been known to enjoy a game of badminton. Actually playing it. Badminton or tennis on TV is like watching paint dry. Skiing, or running? Come on. I know one of them is going to come in a fraction of a second before the others, and I don’t care which one it is. (Don’t try to explain. I still won’t get it).

I’m just eternally grateful that whenever we do manage to travel a bit, there’s no mention of sports events. I know that if we ever manage to make it to USA, New York Yankees tickets will not be on the agenda. We might catch a rodeo though (no, probably not in NYC), to experience a bit of local culture…

#2 Brat is probably moving to Denmark in August – she’s applied to several design colleges there, and has got scores of butterflies in her stomach these days. She’s submitted her application assignments, and is waiting for word on round 2 of the application process.

#1 Brat wants to travel around the world, and is coming back home to work and save money for the adventure. #3 Brat is probably going on to add some academic exams to his CV – he should have gone into apprenticeship as a carpenter, but the building trade is still trembling, and securing a place is difficult. So, he’s doing the sensible thing. #4 Brat is going on to high school.

It looks like we’ll still be 7 people around the dinner table next year, and there’s no chance of a home theater seating arrangement for 2 any time soon. Just as well. Worrying about one at a time is quite enough at the moment. When #1 Brat goes on her world tour, I’ll be worried enough for a lifetime.

Note to self: This summer may be the last chance to take a familiy photo for a loooong time. Grab it!

But I’m not in the mood to be creative. Down in the dumps, really. Not at all inspired to insert anything about Argentina travel in a sentence, paragraph or post.

I think I’ll just post another one of Miracle Boy’s self-portraits, just to cheer myself up.

In our case, today has been a Happy Eater, as we invited the inner family circle (which got our number up to 16) to an impromptu barbecue in the sunny side of our yard.

This is how it looked, just a couple of hours ago. In honor of the fact that it had come of age, and was eminently drinkable, we even popped a couple of bottles of 10 year old Margaux.

A very enjoyable afternoon.

Yesterday, Hubby took the monster horse out to try out his new harness, and as you can see, it fits like a glove. The two tiny Brats were taken for a ride, and loved it. Here’s a picture of the monster horse, Hercules, with Brats and handler:

Climbing the Himalayas? Island-hopping in Greece? All very well, surely, but I’m enjoying the coming of spring right here in my own back yard. If that makes me insular, so be it. At least I don’t have to pack a thing, or worry about planes, transfer, hotels, stomach bugs, or whether I could survive on yak milk.
Right now, that’s the way I like it.

Did I remember to wish everyone a Happy Easter? Never mind – one more time won’t hurt.

Whe he saw what commotion he had caused, he turned himself in. According to him, it was an April Fool’s that got out of hand. And that got caught a bit late by the newspaper desk.

Yeah. Slightly. Some of the 1200 kids involved may well be traumatized, but if they can’t take a joke… At least they got an extra day off. That sort of thing gives 3-6 in this country, so the “joke” is on him, you might say.