And the reason:
The Art of Racing In the Rain by Garth Stein was a book given to me by a friend (Wendy) a few months ago, and sat by my bed until I threw it into my carry-on bag for our epic three-plane-one-car journey to Norway. If I'd seen the NY Times description (it lays at number 8 on the best-seller list) -- "An insightful Lab-terrier mix helps his owner, a struggling race car driver" -- I probably wouldn't have packed it. But are there, really, any mistakes? If you talk to your dog and believe he can hear you, read this book. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.
That which you manifest is before you.
And meanwhile, we survived our journey. Left home in Los Angeles at 5am on 7/20. Arrived at the cottage on Tjome at 4pm on 7/21. Total journey time: 27 hours. Total sleep: 2 hours.
Pale blue skies & watery sunshine met us as we drove in yesterday and my mother, with tea and boller and the blue ocean. I dived in, determined to start the trip as I meant to go on -- full of vim and vigor, being true to my Viking heritage. (Well, I didn't exactly dive, as my hair is particularly good at the moment -- a new straight, bob -- and you know how I love my smooth, blown-out hair. Like the lunar eclipse, it happens so infrequently I must savor it and toss my head appropriately.) So I ventured gingerly down the steps at the end of our jetty, held my breath, and start to swim out into the cold, salty water.