Jetlag

Copenhagen, Denmark, Thursday, September 24

Remember that scene from Ingmar Bergman's Fanny and Alexander on Christmas Eve (and by the way, Bergman's name was everywhere we turned around in Sweden, in bookstores, on posters - I had to remind myself that he was gone) when the grandmother sits on a sofa in her formal dress, accompanied by a samovar of coffee and an old friend? And she says it's so late I'll need to get up to go to church in a couple of hours; we might as well stay up and talk?

It's kind of like that. When I first saw the film, I couldn't imagine the feeling of giving up beautiful sleep. Today, I only catnapped on the overnight flight but joy held the fear of a bad day at bay.

It wasn't the roughest day I've had by a long shot -- the fatigue sat on me, but the skies were glistening. The skies (when not a solid overcast which truthfully does often have texture and a burnished sheen of its own) have that English sea quality -- limpid light, great clarity in the unclouded sky and beautiful colors. It's the ocean air, the absence of smog, the deeply angled sunlight that looks like morning all day.

"We get between ten and thirteen percent of our power from wind," the taxi driver proudly informs us. We could see wind farms in the Sweden-Denmark strait as our plane approached the airport and there are enormous modern white windmills near town.

"I hope Daley sees this," I told Randy, marveling at the clean smell in the air.

Our hotel Bertrams room was as tiny as I expected, but a little more shabby. Its appeal will grow while we are here. We lucked out with a big deep tub in the bathroom. No shower, just a handheld nozzle in the tub.

Randy went right to work. I plotted a walking route with the girls that took us next door to Emery's, a pastry shop next door for some phenomenal hummus and pumpkin seed rolls. Nora tripped on the doorstep - I was sitting on the doorstop, holding my crying girl in my lap as the cab arrived to take Randy away. "Don't worry, we'll be fine!" I urged him and I meant it. I do fear her getting mowed down by one of the speedy bikes that whisk by in their own designated lane between the street and the sidewalk. The cobblestone streets confound the girls' feet too -- we haven't yet found our sea legs.

Everyone speaks excellent English and legible signage is everywhere. "I may be a BITCH but at least I'm good at it" says a sticker in a car window.

We hiked through the "formerly working class now up and coming" neighborhood of Vesterbro and found the tiny toy store past the addict park. The kind clerk explained kroner coinage to me.

On past succulent greenmarkets - I had to stop for some incredibly fresh carrots and apples for the girls. The smell of the strawberries and raspberries was as intense as their color.

We walked west, into a kind and shiny sun until Mia cried, "my violin bow!" She'd dropped the world's smallest bow for the world's smallest violin that we had bought along with some tiny worry dolls and a red tin Danish mailbox. We searched around the sidewalk bricks and scaffolding until I spied it! It was that kind of a day.

The playground was behind an amazing 40 foot brick fortress wall topped with turrets and revealed through a tiny door cut in the larger wooden one painted with stars. A beautiful spot with swings, a pirate ship and a rope swing. Later I'll learn this is Shooting Gallery Park. The Royal Shooting Society practiced here and the wall protected the neighborhood behind.

Pizza dinner. We'll eat much pizza on this trip and it is always freshly made, the dough hand tossed before our eyes.

Mia plays with her worry dolls while Nora and I fall asleep.

Why We're in Scandinavia

Simple answer: I'm in a hotel room in Malmo, Sweden because Copenhagen is just about fully booked and Randy and I wanted the girls to see their great-great-grandparents' homeland while we were in this corner of the world.

More complicated answer: We're in Scandinavia for Randy's work. His company, Optimus, has been working a grueling schedule for weeks with an ad agency and the Chicago 2016 Olympic bid committee to create video pieces for the final Copenhagen presentations that occurred before the IOC today.

Weeks of work, 100,000 feet of film, false starts, dead ends, progress, overhauls, plans changed again and again and again, all down to the final product this morning.

The two videos that were created and cut by hard-working teams in Chicago, then recut over and again during a marathon of four sleepless days and nights in Copenhagen played around 8 a.m. local time, one after Mayor Daley's speech and the other immediately before Michelle Obama's introduction.

I'm so proud of my husband's work. I'm so proud of Tex, who worked with humor and diligence alongside Randy in Copenhagen. I'm so proud of the whole crew behind them.

And despite the vote, the work stands alone. "Together We Can," parts one and two, are beautiful, moving films. Children read letters to the international committee. A teacher tells the story of a student transformed by joining the wrestling team. The films are about the strength and beauty of our city and about the best parts of sport, the parts beyond personal honor, where community and understanding are created.

We may not have an Olympics to call our own, but we do have our hometown, the beautiful city by the lake.

A Summer I Loved Like None Other

We're flying to Copenhagen at ten tonight and I still have so much to do, but you know me, Distracto, so I have to finish this bit of unfinished business and record the tiniest slice of some of the wonderful days we spent in the season that ended two days ago.


We spent the Fourth of July at Fox Lake with three other families - "It's going to be crazy!" was how I extended the invitation, which made Randy laugh. We did have a great time, though, swimming, kayaking, the more adventurous ones, like my speed-loving husband, wave-running. One morning I saw beautiful blue and brown birds on the second floor window sill and got such satisfaction identifying them as barn swallows from the bird book Kristen gave me. The night of the Fourth, we lit baby fireworks from the local Ace Hardware, made smores, and watched fireworks from every direction around the lake.


The last morning I took a solo kayak trip to a quiet cove to the east. Tree branches overhung shallow inlets. A fish flopped next to the boat and I jumped, then laughed, at the massive sound interrupting the silence. Turtles, white herons and most lovely of all, floating white lotus flowers in bloom.

Nora on the rope swing over Lake Wandawega

Mia, like something out of a dream

Camp Wandawega in August. The last morning I took out the rowboat and circumnavigated the perimeter of the lake through fields of floating lily pads. The water was so clear beneath me, the sensation was one of flying rather than floating.

Pie Process

Pie Product. Clockwise from upper left: Peach for Susan Bearman, Triple Berry, Raspberry Chiffon (a sugar-fat bomb) waiting its whipped cream top for Christina and Mike's backyard party, Peach waiting for its sliced almonds, Blueberry.


And now, we have red maple leaves and finally reddening tomatoes. The backyard neighbors lost two mature ash trees yesterday; our only consolation in this pic is the autumn clematis.

Trouble Song (With Apologies To The Roches)

We're going away to Denmark soon.
We're going away to Denmark, Denmark.
Denmark soon.
Denmark soon.

I'll try not to get in the way of the Games
Like I want to do.
Try not to get in the way of the Games
Soon.

We're flying across the ocean soon
Flying across the ocean, ocean
Ocean soon.
Ocean soon.

I wonder how children like jetlag
And parents with the same.
Please don't whine when I have jetlag
And I promise the same.

We're leaving behind our 'puters soon
Leaving behind our Tivo, Mad Men.
Runway soon,
Dancing Stars.

I hope they have vegetarian entrees in Copenhagen
And noodles for the kids.
If they don't have buttered noodles in Copenhagen
We'll probably die.

We're going away to Denmark.
Denmark, Jetlag, 'Lympics, Noodles, Tivo, Mad Men...

Dancing With The Stars!

We Laugh Every Day

Nora says her hangnail is getting "bleedier." She has Harpo hair, his same innocent mien and a taste for the anarchic. When I ask her if the bath water is too hot or cold, she says "it feels wet!" There may be plenty of times I want to cry, but we laugh every day.

After the girls watched the LOL video about a cat sneaking up on his owner, they started playing the game with me. With wide eyes and eerie smiles, they stand frozen and stare at me, then mysteriously move closer when my back is turned. They look so sweetly Children of the Corn, I can't stop laughing in a panicky kind of borderline hysteria. "Stop it, girls, you're freaking me out!" I yell, wanting them to keep it up.

In my latest post on Chicago Moms Blog, I pine for the four of us to have a particular kind of fun together. I kind of got my wish yesterday in an unexpected way when Nora got tired of the water and decided to wrap up in a towel and sit on a deck chair. She watched us play for a while then announced, "I am the judge and you are the swimmers and I will say who will get ALL my blue ribbons and ALL my trophies." She waves her arms to help her explain. Her gaze is directed up and away from us toward the prizes she imagines in the air.

So we have a water ballet competition with lots of fancy flourishes, splashing and dramatic countenances. Randy's summersaults are especially impressive, but Nora bestows the gold to Mia every time. By the third time that I have placed third, I have to whisper to Randy, "family perfection," although it's more about satisfying mutual happiness than any flawless gloss.

I Lost Twenty Pounds This Summer

Rough last few weeks with Randy working eighteen hours, seven days. He looked ashen on the way out the door this morning.

I'm muddling through, relying on workout endorphins and the multi-vitamin I started taking again after the doctor emailed that my blood test came back slightly anemic. Honestly, I chewed up one pill and perked up within hours - is that even possible? Who knows what freaky kind of mind-body connections are working these last two months with many of my prior convictions about my body thrown out the window - "I eat healthy but I keep gaining weight!" Not as healthy as you think. "My body needs to rest a day in between workouts." Not really. "I need protein every two hours or so!" Nope. "Several small meals are healthier than three." Not necessarily. "Eight glasses of water a day!" Don't stretch out your stomach. "Hunger pains keep me awake at night!" Thinking "hunger is the good feeling of your stomach shrinking" now lulls me to sleep. "I freak out when my blood sugar is low!" Not anymore.

I've lost twenty pounds since July 9 by working out every day and eating less. A lot less.

Typical day's menu: Raw oatmeal with zero fat Greek yogurt and raspberries. A bowl of soup OR a salad (NOT both), no cheese, unsweetened iced tea with lemon. One piece of pizza OR another salad with rice and beets, say, OR maybe an Amy's frozen burrito or entree, more iced tea. I've been avoiding snacks except for lots of veggies and the beautiful fruits of summer and a few (very few, I'm talking five or so) almonds or walnuts. No coffee, no alcohol, which has been surprising easy. Even when dear Christina offered me a splash of something white and bubbly, my usual favorite, on her deck one evening, it looked very pretty but when I got close, smelled like something foreign and looked heavy and not potable.

Here's the funny thing, though - it has happened so gradually that I can't really see much a difference. My clothes fit better, yeah! but I never minded the big tits and ass look. Rather liked it, in fact. It was the inescapable belly that bugged me and that, as most formerly pregnant women know, will never really go away.

I've wanted to share this with you all, dear readers, but there's been some unanticipated side effects to all the exercising. Like deep sleep and a desire for it that overrides my usual compulsion to sit and write at night. And in a kind of systemic interconnected way, there's been less anxiety than usual when I don't post. Not that I haven't wanted to share - Oy vey, what adventures we had this summer! Wandawega, daycamp, one of the final Kiddieland days and now, the excitement over a possible trip to Copenhagen. Which brings us back to poor Randy and his overworking. I can handle the usual days, but I do miss my dear partner. I miss the friends I can unburden to. I miss someone to share this new me with. I didn't even get a chance to tell him about my touch of anemia until this morning on his way out the door.

So today has been rough. After weeks of blissful summer, today I had a pity party. Brought on by no bigger stress than the ballet teacher gently saying Nora is being uncooperative. And a delayed shower. And a temporarily lost shoe. And a sympathy letter from strangers that showed up in my mailbox addressed to my brother who died thirty-three years ago last month. Just a terribly strange and sad coincidence, but today I am a camel dodging straws and I just want someone to say, "you look good - did you lose weight?" Yes. Yes, I did.