I'm off to Brazil again on Tuesday - filming a few extra things for the documentary we've been making for the last 50 years of my life. Sounds glamorous eh, "flying to Brazil to film for a documentary".  I like to say it as often as I can, so that I can bask in the glow of what it sounds like, before reality sinks in.

Carnival will have just finished when we hit Rio.  I fully expect to see some people in silver-spangled thongs (and I'm not talking footwear), straggling home late from the after party.  But sadly, no glitter and fruit-topped head pieces for me - oh no.  I will be visiting a minister in the favelas (slums) of Rio before heading straight inland to visit ageing colonies of fanatical believers to talk about the second coming and experiences of living in the jungle.  Also exotic, but not quite samba-queen style glamour, I tell ya.

Mind you, I am really looking forward to going.  Of course I'm feeling a tad guilty to leave my gang behind to fend for themselves - all that compensatory tv and pizza will definitely be hard on them - but I think the break is just what I need.  Being outdoors with no snow and ice and overcast minus degrees.  And time without worrying about issues at home will also do me a world of good.

Saturday morning, melting sludge outside.   I'm sitting here trying to do a couple of things for work and this is what I see.  Right in front of me.  The love of my life, working on a project for a CD cover, which involves the founder of Latvian folklore studies, spraypaint and possibly illegal activity.

To my right: two bowls I bought for a song at a new op shop down the road - everything in there is cast off from wealthy Swedish homeowners.  These bowls looked modern at first, until I got closer and examined their ageing crackled overglaze.  For a typography snob like me, they are a treasure. Too cracked to be used for food, they are going "straight to the poolroom" - on a shelf in the kitchen.
I have always had a penchant for kitchenware with words in different languages... so the Swedish "Pyttipanna" (a traditional scandinavian dish, a hodgepodge of food similar to bubble and squeak) and "Smatt och Gott" (bits and pieces) fit right in with my other food cannisters in French, Russian, German, Latvian.  Oh, and English.  Of course.


To my immediate left - a jar of spicy orange and cranberry jam I made yesterday.  I guess you could call it marmalade - at a stretch.


Saving the best till last.  On my left - kids looking at Google Earth and bickering over a crappy swivel office chairs.  At first they were their grumpy selves until they realized I was going to blog the photo.  Then they got crazy.

Off to the pool soon to swim all that craziness out.  Oh yeah!

Poor old Sticky Man.  He's been trapped in this Lego jail for the last month or two - this arch-enemy of Toyworld has been doing it tough. That's because the phenomena of Toyworld, a whole universe which has taken over our various houses for the last 4 years, has slowed down (for a comprehensive description of Toyworld, see this post).  Oh, there's still battle between bad and good, and King Toby still occasionally comes out to decree a truce or a treaty or a war or something, but developments in Toyworld happen less often - because a new game has started.

It's called "Legend", and it has been talk of the town for the last three months or so.  I'm not quite sure what the stimulus was - it's basically like dungeons and dragons, but cooler, totally mobile, and made up by Tiss.  Its an imaginary world or tale, which Tiss describes to the players, and lets them interact with the surroundings and go on quests.  Mikus is one of the main players, as well as the boys' friend "Mark" (not his real name), and another few grade-four friends.

The players get to make their own imagined persona - choosing their age (this seems to be the most important thing), profession, and super animal powers.  The characters then interact, move through the landscape, find various weapons (of course), meet various goodies and baddies, and fight the baddies (naturally).  The players work together to form various alliances, get into scrapes, build themselves buildings, collect money and treasure  and so on.  

What amazes me is that the game is totally and absolutely language-based, and the longevity of the game - and the levels of excitement it causes.  When school started back in September the boys would meet their mate Mark on the tram and immediately pull out their mobile phones, and play them avidly during the 20 minute ride into school.  Now, they get together and discuss the latest developments in "Legend" and I am forever having to "shush" them as they get overly excited arguing about battle tactics or amounts of TNT or making explosion sound affects to accompany the play.  Tram passengers get up and clear a space around the boys when they get a chance, because the play and noise levels are way too hyped.

Mikus and Mark didn't speak for a whole week once, because Mark had exploded their plane accidentally when Mikus was still in class and unable to press the "eject" button. Mikus is very proud of himself, because in the game he is 12 YEARS OLD, and has super wolf powers, and he can do back flips.  This combination of elements is apparently pretty cool.

I keep wondering if my kids seem so desperate to imagine parallel universes because their real lives seem too dull.  Or maybe its because I've been such a harridan and banned them from watching too much tv.  Whatever it is - I don't know how long it will last, and I have no idea at what stage my sons will be classified as role-playing geeks by the rest of their class mates, but for now, it works for me, and the dudes. I just hope that some evil henchman remembers to release Sticky Man at some point, so that he can return to cooking up some more dastardly plots against the rest of humanity...


Just this week there was a frenzy of activity after I suggested that the goings on in Legend could possibly be captured in a comic.  Breakfast banter was replaced by feverish pencil-sketching both for Tiss (drawings above) and Mik (front cover, below).

This weekend we joined friends for a road trip to a brand new science centre open in Estonia.  The museum was great - one of the best science centres we've ever been in.  The kids loved it: curious, active, fearless - running through the exhibits, ready for anything, the first to jump into flight simulators, dark tunnels, mazes, elevators.   I was surprised to see my own reaction to things though.  A number of times throughout the day I found myself fighting mini panic-attacks as I failed the challenges that the kids seemed to thrive on.  I couldn't overcome the feeling that I was going to cry and scream and vomit all at once when Tiss tried to lure me into the mirror maze.  I clenched my eyes shut and prayed for the ground when Jem pulled us 2 flights high in the rope chair lift.  I turned around and fled when Mikus invited me into the "Shanghai house" with a sloping floor, which made you feel instantly sea sick.  I was surprised at my own amount of fear and dread at simple things that cause kids joy and wonder.  My pulse racing and insides tingling, I sat down on the huge row of exercise-balls-come-exhibition couches and tried to gather myself together.

Maybe giving in to panic was just my reaction to my fear at real-life situations that have already come up early this year.  Almost immediately after new year's we found ourselves in a crisis at home, with our sweet Mikus developing a debilitating health issue - which has us confused, searching for immediate answers to relieve the problem, and possibly facing years of management once things settle down.  I have been finding this process difficult - because the sadness and fear that I have been feeling about this little person, my own flesh and blood.  Overcoming fear has been the hardest part of this process - finding the courage to keep searching, to be active in engaging health professionals and being advocate for my own child.  Things late this week started looking a little more positive, though not completely cured, and I have managed to regain some sense of balance.

So it looks like my theme for 2013 has been defined by outside influences.  Turns out that my resolution of learning to make sushi has been usurped by something a little more challenging - finding courage, wherever and whenever I need it.

It's not too late for this cosy romantic scene with a handwritten "Happy New Year!", is it?  I picked up this postcard at a collector's fair this autumn.  I think I was taken by the obvious chemistry between the photo subjects - and the absurd hand-coloured hot-pink flames in the fireplace.


The heartbroken Sigurds has written to Elga in 1924 - a lovestruck poem he can only have composed himself, inspired by the image on the card.  After reading his verse, I can't help wonder if he was also responsible for hand-colouring the card:

"...Oh, believe me!  A fireplace is love,
Where the most lovely dreams are consumed by flame,
But there is no more love, and my heart grows cold..."

 Years ago, my mother-in-law taught me a concept taught to her by her mother - that some days are just "days with holes in them".  Meaning that on those days you feel miserable, and everything goes wrong.  Or they are melancholy, and you just can't wait for them to end.  Or maybe something actually terrible happens, or you get some bad news.  A day with a hole in it is a great concept - it gives you the acceptance that today is a shitty day - and that some days are just like that.  It also gives you a sense of closure, in the way that it is just one day - tomorrow will probably be different.

Over time, I have also taught this phrase to my own kids, and sometimes in tears or frustration or unhappiness we agree that today is just a day with a hole in it.  And we feel better!  If any other hurdle comes our way, we figure it's meant to, because it's that kind of day.

Well, for various reasons today was that kind of a day for us.  So we decided to get out of the house and tackle the day head-on, by going to various museums and exhibitions in town.  I managed to abandon my men and dived into the Marimekko exhibition on at the Decorative arts museum.

Dear lord, if there was anyone on earth who NEVER had a day with a hole in it, it's those happy Marimekko designers.  I have never seen a fashion label with a bigger sense of joy de vivre.  Who doesn't love their cheerful, bold, colourful prints?  And to top it off, they sewed these fabulous floral fabrics into short frocks that could only be described as stylish sacks.  In the midst of my day with a hole in it, I realized that I NEEDED one of those frocks/sacks - and all my problems would be solved.


 Meanwhile, my boys were visiting an old favourite, which never ceases to amuse and amaze - the Latvian Natural History museum.

The best bit is the vintage diorama on the second floor, with all the moth-eaten stuffed animals.  If they ever refurbish that floor of the museum I will make a one-woman protest by chaining myself to the lopsided taxidermied giraffe.

We have been visiting the museum since the boys were tiny, and they still get excited every time we walk in the doors.


And there's certainly nothing like a careful examination of the "Mouse school" to chase away that day with a hole in it....