Today while I was struggling to write while feeling not in the mood to write at all, I happened upon an article on the New York Time's website about Matera, an Italian city I had the pleasure of visiting two years ago. I was there for a writers conference and stayed for a little over a week. While I was there, I met some lovely people and enjoyed the beauty and culture of this wonderful city to the fullest.

Have a look at the article. I think you'll be enchanted by Matera and Basilicata.

Airplane Etiquette...

On Tuesday afternoon I returned home from a two-week holiday in the US and, while it feels good to be back in my apartment in Frösunda, I feel a little homesick. That being said, as much as I miss the US, I don't miss some of the people. There was a certain level of rudeness and narrow-mindedness that I encountered while Stateside that drove me insane. Some of the rudeness can be attributed to the stress of living in a big city; a lot of it was just plain arrogance and ignorance. But that's another post.

What really got my goat was something that happened on the way home.

My flight to the US was great. I was seated next to a lovely older woman named Gail from New Jersey who was on her way home from having visited Norway. We chatted for a while about her vacation in Scandinavia--she'd been there several times in the past and loved the stark beauty of the Norwegian coast and the people she'd met. I was seated by the window; she was in the aisle seat.

One of the first things that Gail said to me once we'd fastened our seat belts was that I should just let her know--even if she was sleeping--if I needed to stand to stretch or go to the bathroom. I thought that was nice of her, especially since I am one of those people who like to stretch while I am flying just so I don't get swollen feet, etc. True to her word, the three or four times I needed to leave my seat, she stood and let me get up without seeming annoyed that I was disturbing her. It's one of the things one must accept if one chooses to sit in the aisle seat.

By the end of the flight, I felt like Gail and I, through our chats about Scandinavia and living in the the Philadelphia area, etc had managed to become pretty good travel buddies. We even chatted as we waited for our luggage.

Sadly, the same cannot be said for the woman whom I sat beside on my way home from the US. When I boarded my London-bound flight, I realized I was going to have to sit beside a woman who didn't like being "disturbed". She glared at me when she found out I was in the window seat. She huffed and puffed and behaved like it was a chore for her to stand up so that I could get to my seat. Three hours into the flight, when I needed to use the facilities, her huffing and puffing and rolling her eyes were enough that I wondered if she'd paid for two seats so she could have space but British Airways had only allotted her one. I offered to switch seats with her and explained that I would probably need to get up a few more times to stretch and to use the bathroom. She refused and said, "I want the aisle seat. I wouldn't have booked it if I didn't want it."

Fair enough. But if you're going to sit in the aisle seat, then you shouldn't behave like the person sitting beside you is being unreasonable if they need to stand up or leave their seat. During the 6.5-hour flight, she never left her seat to use the facilities--so there was no way I could leave mine without waking her up or tapping her on the shoulder to ask if she could stand up. At one point, she griped that I was beginning "to be a pain".

Hmm. Well, I ignored her but it started to annoy me that I was being perceived as a pain simply because I needed to use the toilet. I drink a lot of water when I am on long-haul flights because I want to stay hydrated. I need to stand. I like to do the Wellness stretch program that British Airways advises all its passengers to follow when they are on long flights. And considering that I usually only leave my seat three or four times, I don't see how that can abnormal. I think it's more abnormal when people never leave their seats. It makes me wonder if they would rather pee on themselves than use a public toilet.

So here's a piece of advice to any of you who are planning on taking a long-haul flight: if you don't want to be disturbed by someone who needs to stand during a flight, don't ask for an aisle seat. And you might want to consider sharing your common armrest with the person sitting beside you. The woman I sat next to on my London-bound flight wouldn't share the armrest at all.

Now I know--next time I fly to the US or to any destination that will take longer longer than three hours to reach--I will book an aisle seat.

My Other Blog...

A long time ago, I said I would start a blog where I review the books I read. Somehow, I never got around to it. Today, however, I finally managed to start it. The other blog is called Kim Talks Books and you can find it at http://kimtalksbooks.wordpress.com.

No, I am not abandoning this blog. I will still update this one at least once or twice a month (maybe more, depending on how I feel).

So go to my new book review blog and give me suggestions for how to improve it. I am still a novice at this stuff. :)

Has Summer Moved On?


For the first time in a long time, we had warm, glorious weather in Stockholm for nearly five weeks without interruption. The temperature was moderate by American standards (roughly 80-85F) and sunny. And despite the fact that nearly everyone in Stockholm was out sunbathing or just simply enjoying the weather, nearly every Stockholmer I met couldn't prevent themselves from complaining about how hot it was (most unanimously agreed it was too hot, I thought it was just right) and moaned about wanting it to rain so the air would cool off.


Well, they got their wish.


It started raining on Saturday, and it's been raining on-and-off since then. According to the weather prognosis, we can expect more of the same well into next week. Now all those people who wished for rain are going around complaining about the very rain they wanted. I tell them, "You have yourselves to blame. You wanted rain..." 


I don't like the rain--I know we need it, but Stockholm when it's raining is a depressing city. A nasty low pressure system smothers the city in murky clouds. Blech!

Chica Chats

When I first moved here to Sweden, I didn't have many female friends. I think this was in part due to my trying to make as many Swedish friends as possible and realzing that this was sometimes an impossible task. What I didn't know when I first moved to Sweden was that most people have their clique of friends whom they've known since childhood and are loath to include members in said clique--unless you are the partner of someone within the clique. So, while you may work with them everyday and have lunch and go to after-works with them, they'll rarely ever invite you to their barbecues or dinner parties. Now, keep in mind, this is all based on my experience--which is pretty old now since I moved here in 1995 and I am thinking of that time period between 1995 and 1997 when I really wanted female friends (I had a great bunch back in Richmond and Philadelphia and I missed them all). Instead, my closest friends during that period were an Australian, an American with a Swedish name and an Irishman. It took three years for me to finally make enough female friends that I felt like now I had a nice group to hang out with. And in the beginnig, only one was a Swede, and she didn't hang out with us that often. Nearly all the girls who became the Chicas were from somewhere else and all of them had moved here because of a Swede or some other European who was living in Sweden and lured them here thanks to love.

Fast forward ten or eleven years to now and the main group of Chicas includes Maitechu, Sara, Nadia, Julie and Alessandra. There are a few peripheral members who drift in and out at leisure. There's one who's been axed from my list of chicas but is still included in the others' list, which on occasion has made things tense but she hardly ever associates with any of us anyway so it doesn't really affect us very much anymore.

In the past we Chicas met nearly every day. We'd congregate in cafés, restaurants and bars. We'd have pot luck at one another's apartments, we'd have movie nights. If you saw one, you were bound to see at least two others. Then something happened--yes, what inevitably happens when you have women in their late 20s-early 30s--they all started having kids. At first, this didn't affect things so very much. We still met quite often; we just had to base things around baby sleeping/feeding schedules. And this usually worked. But as the number of babies in the group increased, it became more difficult to find places with enough space for all of us, plus wee ones, plus wee ones' baby carriages.

I was the odd one out. I didn't have kids. Initially, not by choice. We'd tried, but it didn't work. There were early-term miscarriages. The desire to have a baby began to feel like it was killing our relationship--sex is no longer fun when you are only doing it because you're ovulating, it begins to feel like a chore that must be got through. And when you treat your husband like an on-demand sperm donor and not the guy you love, it just leads to problems. Plus, there was the little glitch that he was no longer sure he wanted to have kids. After over a year of trying, we gave up. We both realized we liked our life together as it was, even if it meant we would never have our own children. Trying to explain that to people was not always easy. But that is another story.

One thing I noticed with the arrival of so many kids was how the nature of our Chicaness changed. Suddenly we weren't these carefree women with careers and husbands/boyfriends who got together to talk about anything and everything. My friends were turning into moms who talked about their kids and kind of forgot that those of us who didn't have kids wanted to sometimes talk about something else. There were times when I opted out of meeting for coffees or pot-lucks because I was tired of being asked to admire ad nauseum someone's baby or agree that their child was the most wonderful/intelligent/fill-in-your-fave-adjective child in the world. At first, I didn't say anything. I thought this would pass. But when it didn't, and I was becoming more and more...not anti-social but anti-social-if-all-we-were-going-to-do-was hang-out-in-a-playground-all-day...well, I realized I had to say something. I loved my Chicas' kids; I didn't love not being able to talk to my friends because it was non-stop babytalk. I also didn't love sometimes being treated like my problems weren't real problems simply because I didn't have children.

So I told them how it felt. Most of them understood and realized that they sometimes went overboard with the baby stuff. One friend got annoyed and felt like she shouldn't have to avoid talking about what was the most important thing that had happened to her just because I didn't want to hear about it all the time. I had to remind her I didn't want her to stop talking about how great motherhood was for her. I just wanted her to occasionally talk about something else too. So for a couple of years, it was weird. I started doing things on my own because I didn't feel like trying to organize things around baby carriages or playgrounds.

Now the kids are getting older (a few new ones have arrived, one more on the way) and it's a little easier to meet. We don't see each other everyday like we used to but lately we've been trying to meet at least once a week so we can touch bases and reaffirm our Chicaness. Sometimes these meetings are kids-free, sometimes they aren't. But it's nice to have found a way back to one another even if we will probably never have that carefreeness that we had when we all first started hanging out together. But the nice thing about when we meet is that we talk, we give each other support, we are like sisters (or the sisters we wish we had).

Yesterday we had a nice chica chat at Vurma on Birger Jarlsgatan. It was one of those chica meetings that happens quite quickly and everythign falls into place very smoothly. Outside it was raining cats and dogs, but it was lovely to sit by the open window and feel the breeze, talk about our lives and enjoy good salads and sandwiches. While we were sitting there, I had this image of all of in our 60s, meeting, laughing, and being the same group of Chicas...it will be nice to grow old with these Chicas. :)

Oh, to be in Hagaparken

Today I was in the mood for a stroll in Hagaparken so, after a quick cup of java and a pastry at Thelins in Frösunda, I walked over to the park. Part of the reason I decided to go to the park was because I've been reading tons and tons of complaints about the fence being built around Haga Slott. For those of you who don't live in Sweden, HRH Victoria, Crown Princess of Sweden, and her husband-to-be Daniel Westling will be moving into Haga Slott following their wedding on 19 June. The press (and lots of people who probably never walk in Hagaparken anyway) have been complaining about the fence being built for the crown princess's protection. Many have said there would be no way to walk around the fence--that it cut off the paths near the water and that people would no longer have access to Ekotempel and Gustav III's Pavillion. Well, having walked in that area today I can safely say that these stories are not true.

Yes, there is a fence around the castle and its grounds. No, Gustav III's Pavillion is not behind the fence--it's still open to the public as usual. The same is true for Ekotempel. Ditto for the paths along the water. In fact, the paths are better now, plus street lamps are being installed there so it will feel safer for those who like evening strolls. Also, new trees were being planted and the park felt much cleaner and nicer than it has in a while. What's interesting is that now that news of the Crown Princess soon taking up residence in the castle has spread, more tourists seem to be finding their way to the park, which is great. I have always loved Hagapark and I am glad that our foreign visitors are finally discovering it too. If you're in the mood to explore the park but don't know where to start, take a look at this map, which I found on SFV's website. It gives an overview of what you can find in this lovely English-style park. For more information on the park, check out this link.

Fjärilshuset is a gem in the park. I went there today, though just to sit for a while in the café and have a glass of juice before continuing my walk. The Butterfly House is a great place for anyone who loves butterflies and the wonder of having something akin to a rainforest in the middle of a park in chilly Stockholm. For the most part, it's perfect as it is. However, they really should improve their boutique. Most of what was for sale was very kitschy (and not in a good way). But I can overlook that since the butterflies and plants in Fjärilshuset are so magical.

I spent a little over an hour strolling today, enjoying the beauty of the park and its nature. It was the perfect way to end the weekend, even if it was a bit cloudy today.

By the way, the image above was taken by Holger Ellgaard. I forgot my camera at home...

Spring has sprung...

Today is one of those days when I love living in Stockholm. After the initial grumpy reaction to what appeared to be another gray day, I was pleasantly surprised by a suddenly blue sky filled with spring sunshine. And a day like that means only one thing: Kafé Sjöstugan. Now, those of you who don't know about Sjöstugan, it's a quaint little café in Bergshamra on the shores of Brunnsviken. Tord and I like walking there whenever the weather is good and sitting in the sunshine with a cinnamon bun and a cup of coffee. You feel like you're in the countryside without actually having to be in the countryside. It's nice. Today was a nice, calm day--no snarky people in sight (always a good thing) and ducks waddling around quacking.

We could see evidence that spring has arrived--unfortunately I forgot my camera at home otherwise I would have posted a few pictures of sage beginning to become green again, tulips sprouting and crocuses in all their finery. The winter ice on Brunnsviken is receding and becoming a memory. Ducks and swans have returned. It was just a lovely afternoon. I almost dread when it gets warmer and the "weird" people show up--the girls from Östermalm who are "slumming it", who show up in stilettos and complain about their heels sinking in the soil, obnoxious porkchops (boys with oily-looking, slicked back hair who usually hang out around Stureplan) who brag in too-loud voices about their boats and VIP cards. Luckily, it's not that often when these "weird people" show up--but when they do, they disturb this idyllic little place. I like it when people from the area are there, people who go there because they like that the buns aren't always the same size, who come there because it is a place that sells organic products and who like the mismatched cups, who like the ducks and don't go "Üsch!" everytime something like a bumblebee or a sparrow comes near them.

Soon it'll be perfect weather for a long, long walk around Hagapark. And soon it'll be perfect boule weather. Ooh....and barbecuing...I am longing for that. :)

But for now, I am still wearing a fleece jacket and a scarf, longing for the day I can put on my shorts and sandals and enjoy a glass of rosé outdoors.

Spring...ahhh!

YA Fiction and What I've Been Reading Lately

Lately I've been reading a lot of young adult fiction as research for a possible novel. Prior to getting this idea in my head a few months ago that I might want to try my hand at writing for the YA crowd, I hadn't really ready any books intended for that audience in ages--more like not since I was a YA.

What I remember of YA books from the late 1980s was that they were generally poorly written and were usually set in Sweet Valley, which was not my cup of tea at all. I didn't care about those Sweet Valley High teens with their perfect suburban lives. I wanted gritty fiction back then but it wasn't very easy to find. So I abandoned the notion of reading YA books pretty early and focused on horror fiction, mystery novels, anything I could get my hands on....and then one day I read Milan Kundera and I forgot all about the other books for a while. I had a holy trinity of writers back then: Milan Kundera -- Toni Morrison -- Ernest Hemingway. Actually, it was more a Holy Rectangle if you added Gabriel Garcia Marquez to the mix. So, my path to literary fiction was set and I turned into a literary snob (though I read frothy romance novels and chick lit in "secret").

And then one day, I sat trying to read a new Milan Kundera novel and the unthinkable happened--I was bored. I tried to read a Toni Morrison novel and couldn't get past the fourth chapter. I tried to read True at First Light (the "lost" Hemingway novel that his son edited and finished) and it did nothing for me. The only member of the Holy Rectangle who still swayed me was Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and I started wondering if it was only because he looks a little like my dad--now that's a weird notion. But I began reading more and more "pop fiction" and realized I preferred it to literary fiction and I abandoned my Holy Rectangle for a time.

Nowadays, I read everything. And this foray into reading contemporary YA fiction has been enlightening. Some of it is really good. Courtney Summers' Some Girls Are was one of those books that I couldn't stop reading. Maybe it was because it reminded me too much of how awful being a teenager can sometimes be. Jacqueline Woodson's If You Come Softly is also great. I loved how she portrayed the main characters, Jeremiah and Ellie, and their struggle to deal with their feelings for one another and how it affects the people around them.

I also read Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series but I just wasn't that impressed. I thought Bella was whiny and annoying. I thought Edward was a control freak with issues. I thought Jacob was snarky. I only went to see the movie because I figured it would be interesting to see if the characters were less annoying. The only thing I can say is Rob Pattinson is fit. I understand why girls scream for him. I know a lot of people try to say Twilight is a take on Wuthering Heights but I don't see that. And I don't buy glittering vampires nor stupid names for kids like Renesmee. I think Stephenie Meyer's The Host is a much better novel, though it drags at times. Still, I enjoyed it more than the entire Twilight series.

But back to YA fiction, I noticed that nearly all the YA fiction geared at black and Latino teenagers dealt with what are perceived as urban issues: teen pregnancy, drugs, gang violence, being abandoned by a parent. And this made me wonder just how many black and Latino teens really want to read about those issues. When I was a teen living in West Philadelphia/University City, I wasn't that interested in reading about drugs when I could see evidence of drug abuse around me--crack addicts were everywhere, all you had to do was take a walk along 40th Street and you'd inevitably see a few. Even though I wanted something gritty, I didn't want to be reminded of what was already around me. And it made me feel like publishing companies assume that all black and Latino kids live in big cities and are only interested in books warning us of the dangers of drugs, gangs, etc.

How about a book about a black kid trying to get into college? That was my teen experience. I lived a few blocks from my dream school and did everything I could to be accepted there but received a rejection letter anyway. I wasn't interested in what was going on around me in my neighborhood--I lived there but I knew I was going to leave there. So I have been looking for a YA novel that speaks to that teen experience but I haven't seen anything yet. I'll keep looking. Maybe I just have to write that book myself.

It's also interesting how few YA novels deal with interracial relationships, which is surprising considering that these relationships seem more prevalent (and accepted) among teenagers than adults. Is it because many authors are afraid of taking on the issue for fear of negative criticism? Or are the publishing companies playing it too safe? Or have I just simply not been looking in the right places?Well, maybe I will have to write one of these books myself.

I just have to finish writing the book I am working on at the moment before I launch into another project. But I do think that my next writing project will be a YA novel. I already have an idea forming and I've taken some notes. Who knows where it will lead me but I am glad that I found some YA novels that proved we've moved beyond Sweet Valley Hell when it comes to what teens are reading.

I also found a publishing company called Flux that specializes in YA fiction. I've read two books published by Flux, Ballad and Lament by Maggie Stiefvater, and they were riveting. Stiefvater's third book, Shiver, was published by Scholastic Press, which will also be publishing a sequel to Shiver called Linger in July. I loved Shiver. I thought Grace and Sam's story was heartbreaking. I could picture it in my mind and imagined which actors I saw playing the roles. But I am sure if they ever make a movie of it I will be disappointed with whichever actors are chosen--unless of course they are the same ones I imagined. But back to the book, it was so beautifully written, and whenever people try to sing the merits of Twilight to me, I just say one word: Shiver.

So I am anxiously awaiting Linger and trying to finish my own book, which I've decided I will probably self-publish, and trying to keep myself from starting another book. But I am also glad that YA fiction has moved away from the squeaky clean cheerleader type stories of my youth and on to more interesting subjects, even if I am tired of seeing books about black teens affected by gangs (which isn't the only experience black teens have, Mr and Mrs Publisher -- some of us were never affected by gangs at all and would love to read about something other than "urban issues"). At least we're seeing something other than the cookie cutter YA novels of my youth.

Essence and Interracial Relationships...


A few months ago I decided to get a subscription to Essence since my mother always asks me if I've read the same articles she's read. Until recently, Essence wasn't a magazine that was very easy to find in Stockholm, Sweden. Whenever I looked for it on the racks of Pressbyrån in Gallerian on Hamngatan or Västermalms Gallerian at Fridhemsplan, it was either already sold out or never arrived on time. I bit the bullet and ordered a subscription that was more expensive than I would have preferred (expensive thanks to postage + shipping to Europe) and was very happy when I received my first issue two months ago. The articles were well-written and focused on issues that I was interested in: health, how and when we'll overcome the ridiculous "good" hair versus "bad" hair stigma, fashion, education and interviews.

The second issue was also great and featured an interesting, if a little vague, article about Susan Rice, the American Ambassador to the UN. I wanted to know more about her but the article felt a bit more like a teaser rather than the promised in-depth interview that would reveal what made Susan Rice tick.

Then I received my third and fourth issues and suddenly I found myself getting annoyed. The third issue annoyed me more because I felt like every article was flat. But what really rankled me was an article by a woman who was talking about why she gets angry when she sees black men with women of other races. The main point of her article was that black men who were involved with women of other races "didn't have their acts together" or were disrespecting black women. She mentioned black athletes who were together with white women or Asian women and said that their choice of spouse was a sign that "they didn't love or respect the women who raised them". While I could understand where she was coming from, I didn't agree with her and I felt like any good editor would have asked her to interview black men who were in interracial relationships and ask them why they were with their partners instead of basing her entire essay on her experience with men who were either "players" or men whose friends were just out to "hit it and then quit it".

As someone in an interracial relationship, I get very tired of people making assumptions about why I am together with someone of another race. I think a lot of us who are involved in interracial or multicultural relationships have had our share of racist or bigoted comments from the people around us. And while there may be people out there who only date someone of another race so they can have another notch in their bedpost or because they hate their parents or because they are ashamed of their skin color or whatever, I am not one of them and I don't think I am alone.

I am not stupid enough to think that everyone welcomes interracial dating. There are plenty of people who make it clear that they think anyone who dates or marries outside their race is betraying their race. And that was what rankled me most about this article. It repeated the very same racist arguments that used to be used against blacks. It also made it seem like every black man who dates a white woman was essentially saying he hated his mother. And then the writer said that black women had fewer options than white women so black men should show them respect and only date black women. I didn't really follow that logic. The only thing that limits us is ourselves. If we stop behaving as though we cannot look beyond skin color, then of course we are limited. Just because someone is a different ethnicity doesn't mean you won't have some common ground. But using skin color as a justification for not trying to get out there and meet people seems like a sad and lonely life.

There are people out there who think that dating someone white is a status symbol, akin to having the latest Gucci bag or driving a slick new SUV. Anyone who thinks that way obviously has maturity issues. Dating or marrying someone for the supposed status of their skin color is as ridiculous as the "good" hair/"bad" hair debate. And if a black man only dates black women who happen to have long hair or who are light-skinned --isn't that just as bad? He is objectifying the women then in the same way that he is if he exclusively dates someone simply because they are white.

Yes, America has a racist history but we are also a very diverse country. And the only way we can ever come to terms with what our ancestors suffered because of centuries of slavery, is to never let ourselves be enslaved again. But we can't use racism or perceived racism stop us or our children from making friends, from daring to dream of traveling to other countries or even going away to school. We have to accept that slavery will always be a part of our history, but we also we have to move on.

Jill Scott also wrote about "the wince" she feels when she sees what she calls "seemingly together black men" with white women. Sadly, she too seems to think that the only way a black man can have it together is if he is with a black woman. I don't really understand this. If he loves his partner, and she loves him, if they have a successful relationship and mutual respect for one another then isn't that more important than if they have the same skin color?

It's time for us to take our blinders off. It's time to remember what Dr. King said about how we should judge one another. I once said this to a relative whose rebuttal was "I'll bet Dr. King didn't want any of his kids marrying someone white." That might be true--we'll never know since Dr. King is no longer with us. But I have the feeling that, based on all his speeches and his essays, he would not try to stop one of his children from doing so if he felt that it was a relationship based on the principles of love, especially since he fought so hard for minorities to be treated as equals in the eyes of the law and society.

When I was a kid, my mother told me that when I fell in love, I should make sure the person I fell in love with would love and respect me. She told me it didn't matter what whether he was black or white or plaid, all she wanted was that her daughters found men who would be their equals in love. I couldn't have been more than nine years old when my mother told me this but I remembered it. She also used to remind me of Dr. Martin Luther King's words of judging people on the content of their character and not the color of their skin.

Many years later, after kissing a lot of frogs, I found a man who treated me like a queen, who respected my intellect and who loved me as intensely as I loved him. If I'd ignored him simply because he was white, I would have missed out on having a good man in my life.

So now I have to decide....do I keep my subscription to Essence, or do I ask them to cancel it. Well, I don't have to agree with every article but I don't like it when I read articles by people of influence (and let's face it, what we writers write influences others) seem to write without thinking deeper. Especially when the end result is an article that feels shallow and bigoted.

Enough snow already!

We've had snow on the ground in Stockholm--and especially in the suburb where I live--since before Christmas. Back in December it was great. It felt so Christmasy with snow. Tord and I bought pulkas and went sledding non-stop, even on days when it was -15C, -20C. Now it's nearly March and it's still snowing. We've had a few mild days when the snow began to melt and then freeze again at night, which of course inevitably led to sleek ice everywhere and me falling so many times that I may as well scoot to work on my butt if it means I won't fall anymore. Needless to say, I am tired, tired, tired of snow!

Hey Mother Nature--enough already!!!

All I want now is to feel the air change and for spring/summer to come. I am tired of wearing heavy winter clothing. I want to get a pedicure and wear cute sandals. I want to leave my socks at home. I want to take my duffel coat to the dry cleaner's and then hang it in the closet for another season. I want warm evenings scented with blooming lilac and bird-cherry. I want to sit outside in the sun and enjoy a glass of rosé. I want to play boule!

Of course, even if spring were to arrive tomorrow, it would still not be warm enough to do all of these things. Stockholm springs are notorious for being rather rainy and chilly. And you can still have snow in April. Sheesh! But it's the idea of spring I want. And even though I am not one of these willowy girls in a floaty dress and heels (never have been, most likely never will be), I like the idea of me wearing a floaty dress and heels, traipsing along as birds chirp and flowers bloom and the whole world is in love with the idea of being in love.

So I want spring. And I want it now. And when spring finally comes, I'll want summer--especially if it's a nice, dry summer with long, warm evenings. I want a lot of things, don't I?

Let's Dedicate This Post to Ron

Two things happened this week that are of great importance--one is awesome, the other is depressing. Let's take the bad news first. My mother called me on Sunday to tell me that my oldest niece's father had been killed. This is really awful news. Ron was a nice guy and a good father. Unfortunately, most people will always connect him with being the first homicide in Philadelphia in 2010. A homocide investigation is ongoing, but there's been no news I don't really understand how *anyone* justifies killing someone. I hope the police catch the suspect(s) and that justice is served.

This reminds me of a stupid slogan that was bandied around during the late 1980s-early 1990s: "Guns don't kill people, people kill people." Let's ignore the fact that this is a stupid slogan and revise it a bit: "People with guns kill people." Still not great, but it's certainly better than the NRA schpiel about guns not killing people. Every American knows there are too many guns on the streets of our cities. We've all heard the reasons people carry guns: to feel safe, to get respect, to defend their property... None of those reasons are good enough for me. The average person doesn't need a gun unless they hunt. And we know the statistics of how often guns in the home are not used to protect against burglars and home invasions but are used in crimes of "passion" and domestic violence. We also know there are way too many illegal firearms, that in many states it's too easy to gain access to firearms and that some banks are dumb enough to give rifles to new customers (now if that doesn't scream "rob us!" I don't know what does)...

But I digress...my sister Lisa and her daughter Mecca are in mourning. Ron's wife and family are in mourning. No one knows the motive for Ron's murder. But this is just another instance of the violence that has become a part of life in the US. I hate the fact that Ron's children have lost their father. I hate the fact that Ron is dead and he was only 42. I hate the fact that the person or people who did this are probably hanging out somewhere bragging about what they did.

So Ron...may you rest in peace, and may the person or person who ended your life be caught, tried and serve their time. And may they feel remorse for their actions.

Now...what was the other thing that happened? I turned 40, which according to some magazines is the new 30. All I know is that I am fantabulous.