When the prise is Brilliant and Shiny

It's that time of year when I'm struggling to see the humor in how children's sports are run here in Norway.

MInd you, I am not thinking about the coaches and arbitrators and all the other adults who get involved to keep teams and athletes in active exercise. They do a great job! They sacrifice time, energy and social life to organize children's sport and interest. Through all kinds of weathers, they are out there, on the field and track helping to educate children to become active, team oriented people. They do it voluntarily and without payment.
When my boys with brilliant and shiny eyes hold a trophy in their hand after a chaotic tournament, I must admit that I feel a lump in my throat while I think of the great adults who have made it possible.

No, I think about the funding of sport.

In the United States, and many, many other countries, sports are driven through school. If you play football or chess, you represent your school. When you play in bands or is a gymnast, you do it for your school. It costs the kids time, and there is an expression called "soccer mum", which describes parents who sacrifice time to watch the kids when they are active, and otherwise support the team.

Here in Norway we have sports teams, or athlete clubs, and although they are run on a voluntary basis, nothing is really free and it costs money. Sportssuits and shoes we have to buy and pay yourself, but the club keeps equipment, firld, court and hall. They also pay insurance on the kids ... as soon as parents pay the yearly fee.
But then comes the central organs of sport.

I have two boys playing soccer. I am very proud of them and I see how they grow from playing matches. They understand how to be good losers, but even more important: They learn how to be good winners.

But. Each year NFF (Norwegian Soccers association) send out raffles to be sold. The two boys get 20 scratchcards each, valued to Nkr 30, - to be sold "door to door." My boys do not go on doors to sell lottery tickets. They know that all the other kids in the street, both football, handball, showjumping and other sports will go in the street and sell the scratchcards to their lottery... at about the same time of year. There are too many "no, I'm not having any" and "I don't have any cash at home."
We don't have family who live in the area either, which many depend upon for selling. So the invoice, that total nkr1200, - (about $200,-) that are included in the envelope with the scratchcards, gets paid, and we are stuck with a lot of scratchcards, we bought ourselves.

In mid-November, advent calendars arrives in the mail. 11 scratchcard-calendars each, 2 boys, equals 22 pieces a nkr 50, - to be "sold door to door." For the tidy sum of nkr 1100 - (about $ 180,-) It's no surprise that my boys do not go to our neighbors' doors to sell calendars. They know that all the other kids in the street, both football, handball, showjumping and other sports go in the street and sell ... at the same time of year. There are too many "no, I'm not having any", and "I don't have any cash at home".
We don't have family who live in the area either, which many depend upon for selling. So the invoice accompanying the advent calendars gets paid, and we are stuck with a lot of scratchcard-calendars, we bought ourselves.

And I have not even mentioned the huge bags with rolls of toilet paper (about $190,-) stored in the shed, and which we got invoice for, to pay for the tournament for boys 8 years old. We could sell them off, but everybody is selling toilet paper because... well, because. It's almost as if it's mandatory, like scoutgirls' cookies.

None of us can bear the thought of scratching calendars every day, from December 1 to December 24. it becomes an insurmountable and time-consuming project. By January I set off one evening and find the coin. The deadline to submit raffling with prices is March 31.
The boys join me for as long as they can be bothered, but it doesn't last long. Somehow there is no motivation in it for them when one route after another thanks for the support, but "Thank you for your support" gives no hope of a price.

2013 the advent calendars were red. Then I won Norway's, perhaps the world's, most expensive micro fiber cloth. That's it. A microfiber cloth.

2014 the advent calendars were purple. Yesterday I got two envelopes in the mail. Each of them contained two long teaspoons in stainless steel. I think I've got Norway's, perhaps the world's, most expensive teaspoons ... but they were at least brilliant and shiny.

New Year's Eve together.

Celebrating an event or occasion alone with the kids isn't really the most festive thing to do, neither for me nor the kids. We have different expectations to what makes a great party, so it was with profound relief and gratitude we agreed to come and celebrate the evening with my best friend and her family. 

Last year we  celebrated in my house. She was alone, with children well to note, I was alone with the children, and we invited a single friend who had nothing more exciting to do. 
There is only one thing more sorry than to celebrate something and you are the only adult, and that is to be utterly alone. (I've tried both, so I know a little about that.)

Children have so much to do, and they will happily do things on their own, so you are left to have soulful conversations with yourself. One can always knit, but how fun is that, on New Year's Eve, when you know the entire world is out there welcoming the new year having a blast?

Anyway, a year ago we were three ladies and three children, and we had a real nice evening. A lot of good food, snacks and good-natured fireworks. 

This year (or, strictly speaking, last year, but you know what I mean) we were invited home to her family.
That is ... until she called me and told that she had lent her house to her son, who had invited so many guests with babies, that they were tight on room  when the babies should sleep.
BUT we were welcome to spend the evening in his apartment.

Well, it's not exactly the same as being in a familiar and accustomed place, so I said that we could be at my place.
Since she had invited us, and then given away "the premises" to someone else, she insisted on cooking. She is so generous that it sometimes becomes a strain, but it is always well intended ... and it's really heart-warming to be taken care of like that. Annoying because I can make do on my own, but at the same time nice.

She arrived bringing turkey, sprouts, ready peeled potatoes ... a pot with some carrots (the rest lay in her driveway, but she had a pack of carrots for me to peel), a delightful mashed rutabaga and sauce.
A single friend was bringing a Waldorf salad (someone other than the previously mentioned ... but she also came; they both had nothing better to do).

I went to the store to buy milk, and met a woman I know who said they had no plans, so I invited them as well. The more, the merrier. She insisted on bringing something. She couldn't come without bringing something to the table... so we agreed she could bring a cake.

Just before dinner on New Year's Eve, I learned that a neighbor family would be celebrating alone, so I sent a text message and asked them over after dinner. They could certainly come to dinner, but I knew they had already cooked a tasty meal.

The guests arrived and waited for us to serve dinner. While waiting, my friend's husband found every adult a unique mug and offered the adults coffee. I tried to tell him where the good cups were, but he didn't listen. Our diverse collection of mugs with photos, commercials, soccer teams, names and chips were handed out and appreciated. That's when I tell myself "I'm just normal, we all have those mugs, the difference is just they probably hide them when having people over. Oh, why didn't I hide them? Why didn't I find the good cups and set them on the counter before they arrived? Men!" 
My frustration didn't last long. It's not the night for being hung up on petty details.

For dinner we were a healthy bunch of 16 people. Lovely!  Then came more guests, and it was time for the children's first round of fireworks. We never buy big packs with large rockets, but there is a lot of the smaller kind which makes noise and sparks and that kids like.

The dog behaved fine, with only a few, frustrated yelps, but he got so much attention that he completely forgot about all the bangs, howls and milling outside.

And there was coffee ... the kids came, grabbed a treat and quickly disappeared into the basement to play games... and the TV was off, that alone was absolutely lovely.
In Norway, when we invite someone over for coffee, or we "have coffee" during a party, there is always cake, cookies, ice-cream and/or sweets. It's like a meal holding everything you shouldn't eat. Ever so yummy!

We had barely swallowed away the first sip of coffee before a father burst out "Hey! Look at the clock, only 5 minutes to midnight! We must get out! Get the kids!"

Jackets, shoes, protective goggles, sparklers and lighters lying in a huge pile in the hallway, was quickly sorted, put on or put in pockets.
The rest of us adults came rambling along in a more leisurely pace and we managed to get outside in time, shout "Happy New Year!", throw our arms around everybody's neck to steal a lot of good and warm hugs, before we went back inside to finish our coffee. 
The men, and those who needed some extra fresh air, were left to supervise the kids and the fireworks.
They kept going for a long time. A very long time. 

We forgot about the champagne. We forgot about the non alcoholic pink champagne for the kids.

It turned out to be a family-friendly celebration of the new year. High spirits, good humor and good friends.
Some might say that it was hospitable to open the house in this way, but it's really not. The house has room for people, and I am not afraid of anything breaking or a little mess. Besides, guests are usually very good at doing the dishes. I am eternally grateful that I have people around me who did not want me to be alone.
Although I am often alone (I even thrive in my own, quirky company), I don't really mind. I am never lonely, you see. But sometimes it's good to have company.

I try to follow the golden rule: Invite others into your life. Kind of strange, since as a person I am rather private, I really don't reveal too much about myself, but I do enjoy the company of others. It's not certain they accept the invitation, but give them the opportunity to choose.
Having the option makes all the difference.

A lot of fun here, New Year's Eve. 

I really didn't mind picking it all up the next day, in the rain and wind, it was quite ok, actually.

Besides, there were some young guests who did a great job collecting much of it in a pile.

40 bags in 40 days 2014

A year ago I joined the 40 bags in 40 days challenge. 40 bags in 40 days is a challenge which takes place during lent (the catholic period of fasting). To me this was a blessing in disguise. For many years I had this problem of collecting too much stuff around in my house. Read more here: https://www.facebook.com/events/637377976316873/?fref=ts 

I grew up with parents born before WW2. My mother always told me to take care of things, especially clothes, in case of rougher times. Actually, as a teen I used to redesign and alter clothes a lot and they turned out pretty cool. But that was the 80s, which was really convenient, because I couldn’t really afford buying clothes then and fashion back then allowed an individual style. At the time having access to stored, old stuff made sense.

Anyway, I learned that we do not throw away stuff, we keep it… thing is: things started piling up, too much of everything, and suddenly I looked around and discovered I never used any of it, but it took up a lot of space in my house. Space I would really like to clear away and make useful and presentable and room to breath.

I started off thinking that all the piles and boxes in my house was an impossible task to take on, when I stumbled upon this challenge I started thinking that a tiny bit is a lot more than nothing at all, so I joined. I didn’t do it the scientific way: I did not download the calendars or plans available everywhere on the net, I didn’t have a room or area scheduled each day. I just thought that I’d wing it. Everywhere was somewhere good to get started. But it was scary, I tell you.

At first it was really easy: a bag was filled in no time. Getting rid of a little bit of it all wasn’t too painful. Some days I even discarded a lot more than what I had planned. It was 5 minutes of contending passions. But as the 40 days was coming to an end it became more painful. I found things I had forgotten I even had, and I found things which I knew would never be used again, but memories overwhelmed me. It is stupid to hold on to broken etch a scetch just because my son wrote his name for the first time on it, but it is painful to get rid of.

I continued, though. Trying to be reasonable about it all, and after a while it became more of a personal cleansing. I reminded myself of the advantages I would get from it all:

-More space

-Easier to clean

-More presentable home

-Less clutter…. The list grew longer the more I thought it through.

On day 40 I started thinking I was doing something which was good for me. I could already see the results, and I was happy about it. The present became even more important to me, and the feeling of constantly to resign in frustration was replaced with the feeling of achieving something great. To me it was great anyway, and the family started to notice the changes in our house.

off to Salvation Army second hand store.

There was no reason for me to stop, just because the 40 days were over. Every day I got rid of another bag. Some days I just cleared out too small socks from my kids’ drawers, other days I finally got rid of boxes of pocket books I had read too many times.

One day I didn’t have much time to spare… less than my usual 10 minutes, so I grabbed a grocery bag and went into the bathroom. There I threw away empty shampoo bottles, expired creams, lotions and make up and I ended up filling up three bags.

I just love how good I am getting at getting rid of clutter… yes, I stopped calling it stuff or things; now I see clutter.

Today is Ash Wednesday, people from all over the western world are picking up on the challenge. To get some starting help you maybe need a schedule.

White House Black Shutters offers this one:

http://www.whitehouseblackshutters.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/dailyprogress.pdf

Or maybe you just use your calendar on your phone…

I didn’t need one last year; this year I have noted down areas to focus on each day… there is less to just shuffle into a bag now.

I noted it down on the family planner, which is in plain sight in the kitchen. The kids have become curious, so this year it will be more of a family activity. I just can’t wait until this afternoon… I am excited to get started!

A man's true wealth

Now and then you come across people who actually put the time and resources, whether it is profit, energy, knowledge or networks, and put an effort on issues you wish you were more engaged in yourself.

One might wonder why I did not mention capital as means or resources, but capital is something achieved by results. It has never been so that if only you have the money then the results will be better. You do not run fast just because you have money, but for the one who runs faster the road to a comfortable account is a lot shorter. And money can be an important motivating factor, when the hunger for personal glory gradually becomes saturated. A good cause, on the other hand (opposed to achievements), can never be an economic cash cow, at least not legally, but it can become a source of economic concerns.

We have a wealth of good causes and charity to work for, even here in Norway which is such a good country to live in. It is by no means necessary to travel to Africa, or another continent, to find people who feel they are both left and alone somewhere hopeless. Many do not know where to turn to begin the work to make things better in life, they are captured by a paralyzing discouragement. Often, low self-esteem because they have never had the opportunity to learn, their best has never been challenged, or instead of constructive criticism they used to be judged north and down no matter what they did. I do not like using the term, and I don’t mean it in a degrading way, but that's the way we create losers.

When someone does something on behalf of your cause you feel so privileged, it 's like you get personal service and attention. Finally someone actually looks into the dark, inner corners of hopelessness and disappointment which so far has been subject to a fierce and increasing existence soaked in self-pity.

Self-pity is the worst listener. Not even a weary man with a turned off hearing aid is worse. You become so absorbed in yourself and your own situation that no matter what others share with you there is never an appropriate response: you reply by telling about your own almost similar situation and experience. It's like as if you think that if you just share your own misfortune, all the time, you give your support and encouragement. Maybe your story, told 17 times all over again is what gives new vitality to further combat... since the fight for the cause is a personal gesture on your behalf. I'm a bit ironic now, I admit. I don’t feel very kind either, but I get so tired over the fact  that we don’t have it in us to be more generous. It wears me out not to be able to show generosity.

I must honestly admit that one of the hardest thing in the world, for me, is to give praise to someone doing something I know I should have done more of myself. I should have called, written, spoken up, painted, taken photos ... in one way or another been better at expressing where I stand, pick a side, be a better advocate for groups of human beings who are not able to promote their cause.

Molière said way back then, more than 350 years ago, that " A man's true wealth is the good he does for his fellow man."  So true, so very true: Having a generous nature that includes other is a great property. And it’s rare, which is sad because it enrichen your life incredibly much. Envy, jealousy and offended curt has, on the other hand, never led to either happiness or quality of life.

In my head it does not need to be a contradiction to say out loud that doing good for their fellow man has a price. It is time to acknowledge our perception that time is money and we do not have many other opportunities to recognize an engagement than to admit the spending cost.

My 7-year old had a conversation with his father, where the father at one point says that " ... nothing is free ." The boy thinks for a few seconds before it comes, " Oh, yes there is, otherwise there wouldn’t have been such a word! "

He has a good point there that 's hard to find a good answer to, but if it does not cost so much in dollars and cents, it still costs. To tell your story requires that you violate a defense wall of silence. It requires compromising with yourself and often those you love. You steal your beloved’s time with you. Yes, it costs to take the lead, which is why so few of us actually do it. That is why some can treat other plain and little worthy... until a hero comes along who points out the injustices that are being committed.

To say out loud that the fight has a price should not be seen as a shortcoming in the knight’s armor, although one likes to think that those who fight one's case is perfect and infallible. Ultimately, no one can fight alone, and the sympathy and support in the form of listening to their story is one thing , cash that enables them to continue the fight another ... when money are so necessary, it is a wonder they are so unpleasant to mention. That may be how we got the term "a necessary evil".

Promised prosperity

A friend of mine has a blog where he writes about Love, Life and APBA Baseball. The other day he posted some thoughts on online love, or rather: how people’s potential search for love can be set to a test:

Love, Life and APBA Baseball

Love In the Spam File

http://lovelifeapba.blogspot.no/2013/10/love-in-spam-file.html?spref=fb

Not long after I read this text, a letter dropped in my inbox on Facebook:

“Hello

I don't have another way to communicate with you by sending you this mail. I am in despair and my heart bleeds at the time or I make you this message which I hope will hold your attention.

I am contacting you today as true that we do not know this prevents this gesture on my part. Among many of profiles transected, you are the only person that I trust and I made my choice. I am madame Elisabeth FAVEUR aged 68 years, widow residing in London for health reasons. I take this opportunity to make you a very important proposal and confidential. I speak to you as that widow married fire Mr.D. F., a telecommunications engineer who unfortunately is
He died in a plane crash. For some time, I feel more good.

Since the death of my husband, I was overtaken by events, to the point that I can't get out me. Now, I sick and hospitalized. The reason that drives me to you is this: I would like to go through your channel to do charity.

It is a gift somehow and it amounts to the sum of EUR 20 million deposited by my late husband at a bank in West Africa more precisely in Togo. My marital status is that currently I am widow and still fewer children to whom I
could this legacy, and I am currently a throat tumor suffering I am therefore condemned to death according the nurse. That is why, soon would I and graceful manner in order to help the needy children give you this said inheritance that you use 70% of the sum to achieve this work of charity and the rest for you.

I beg you to give an ear to my proposal because I count on your good will and also the proper use of these funds for this work.

You can answer me directly via my private email (mme.exxxxxxxxfxxxxx@gmail.com) the most consulted for more of details or contacted me by phone at the hospital or am I currently hospitalized:

Waiting for your quick and prompt response for more for details.

Best regards

Mrs. E. F

In hidden text the contact information was added:

+44 7x xx xx xx 36

E-mail: mme.exxxxxxxxfxxxxx@gmail.com
Tel: +44 7x xx xx xx 36
London (United Kingdom)”

According to one of her many facebook accounts, all with the same picture of her, she went to London School of Business and Finance (LSBF). Which is, indeed, a very fine school. Or so I have heard.

There must be a lot of extremely skilled students there, financial experts too, who would love to take on the huge responsibility it is to use 70% of EUR 20 million on the work of charity and get EUR 6 million in pay for the effort. After all, all she wants is for the money to be used in the name of good, right?

I have never met this lady, I doubt she knows anything about me… well not much anyway. But she (if this is indeed a woman, that is) has been on Facebook screening profiles and found I am trustworthy enough to administer EUR 20 million. I bet she thinks I have the skills to do so, based on my blond hair.

The nurse told her she is dying, she is on her deathbed, desperate to do some good with the money. Who am I to deny her the peace of mind knowing the fund would be taken good care of would give her?

She even gave me her contact information, so I can get in touch and find out what to do to get my hands on the money, which is deposited in a bank in Togo by her late husband, who was a telecommunications engineer.

I never knew telecommunications engineers made that kind of money. Can’t help but thinking I have chosen the wrong line of career.

Encouraged by the sum of money in store for me I tried to call the number several times, but got no answer. Considering my eagerness to lead an easy life in prosperity, and the good prospects of becoming a full time philanthropist, with only good intentions in mind, I think I will call again. After all: who knows what kind of conmen would otherwise get their hands on the money?