Easter holidays in sub zero temps means more of the same indoor action. We hung out with friends at their place last night and our boys ( we have two; they have two) ran in circles for FIVE HOURS with toy swords and sticks and shields. Through the kitchen, through the lounge, into the passage, back into the kitchen. Yelling the whole time. When, oh when will it be warm enough for us to boot them outdoors for hours at a time to do the running and yelling? What is a reasonable temperature? Anything above zero degrees? Of course the hard-core locals insist that as long as you have a good thermal jumpsuit you can lock them outdoors at any temp. I'm just a big old' softy I guess.


In other news, we went to an exhibition this arvo. Soviet era industrial and poster design by a well-known Latvian artist of the era. Lots of pointless kinetic sculpture which was a real treat.


Even Mikus was entertained for a while.  Gotta love an era of graphic design before the time of computer layout - where posters are all collages and hand lettering and texta pen. The posters in this exhibition were especially interesting for their Soviet era public service announcements. Need to take heed of some of that timeless advice:

Every morning since I've been back from tropical South America - more than a week ago - I look out the window and see that the snowman is still there, proudly sticking out its sticky little arms and blank face pointing into the sun.

I loathe him.

I flew off to Brazil in late february.  When I left Riga it was quite mild - just under zero degrees - and I departed safe in the knowledge that when I returned it would be March already, and winter would be at an end, and there would be hope and a bit of warmth in the air. I didn't expect 25 degrees and a warm wind.  I would have been happy with 1 degree and slowly melting ice and snow.

Turns out, the week before I arrived back home, there was some snow.  And Mikus got busy and built this tiny little snowman in the backyard. Now, snowmen are usually a short-lived thing.  You can only build them when things are relatively warm (around zero degrees), because at that temp the snow is good and sticky.  You often wake up the next day to find your snowman melting, or already in a puddle on the ground, because things have warmed up overnight.

But not this snowman.  Oh, no.  THIS snowman has been beautifully preserved by the fact that the temps dropped down, down, down.  The closer I got to Riga, the colder it got.  I've been home for over a week now and we are still enjoying super-duper-don't-go-outside-you'll-turn-into-an-icicle temps.  The wind chill factor is minus a million and our pellet heating system is eating pellets like there's no tommorrow.

I that is why I HATE THAT SNOWMAN!

So I'm back, and before I return to normal programming (ie. Latvian weather reports), I will make a couple of trivial observations about Brazil, for your viewing pleasure:


 6.  Some of the best impromptu photo shoots occur when you have received ridiculous frocks from well-meaning gift-givers

 7. Sao Paulo has awesome street art, everywhere.  Totally colourful and creative streetscape.




9. Listening to the Brazilian jungle through professional sound equipment is a spectacular auditory feast which should be on everyone's bucket list.

...and last but not least...

10. From what I've seen -  Rio is one of the most beautiful cities in the world.  Pity it is also a dangerous city, where tourists are warmly advised not to carry around cameras.  Because of that, I have no photo to show you what I mean.  You will have to go yourself some day and check it out. 

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).