Megan's hitching

Megan and I have been friends since the very beginnings of graduate school.  (Carolyn Davis, who's wearing the blue dress and dark cardigan in middle row, posted this photo on Facebook and then was dear enough to send it to me so I could borrow it at a decent size.  We all look so young there!)

And since 2000, we've had adventures. 

Both of us have always had odd freelance schedules, so occasionally, on sunny weekdays, Coney Island was just the place to be...then we'd head up the boardwalk to dance all afternoon at Ruby's, the diviest bar on the beachs.... (trust me on this...It's loads more fun that it sounds and were some of the best afternoons ever, especially on days when the Cyclone was open for business.)

Then there was always Halloween.  On this particular year, Megan was a mermaid.  Jess was a pregnant housewife and I was Miss Reform School. 

And of course, the wettest and rainiest concert Bruce Springsteen ever played.  (Yes, we are on the very tip top row of the stadium...But it was our second concert that tour, we scalped the tickets that afternoon---for face value no less, gotta love Bruce fans in Jersey---- It was awesome---and the one concert out of the ten or so I've seen that Bruce played "Rosalita.") 

And there have been countless events in between.

...Sipping key lime martinis on Manhattan rooftops.

...Staying up the entire night before the movers came to finish the packing.  (We spent several hours in the smallest hours of dawn wandering the streets for discarded cardboard boxes. Who knew eight years in the same apartments could fill up so much space?) 

...Helping me make new friends in Atlanta when she came to visit shortly after I got settled into my new apartment.

While I sort of hate that we don't have more photos of the nights out and the parties and the afternoons wandering, they most likely would be full of incriminating evidence and compromising situations, many of which I just don't want to explain.

...At least not now.  I do have lots of notes and explicit permission to use the stories as I see fit. 

She's is the best kind of friend...Amusing, brilliant and best of all she shows up.  And I don't mean just arrives, but participates and is a good guest.  And By good guest, I mean, adds to the party and stores up good stores and observations to tell later.  

This is a key quality. 

So even though Husband was at a crucial time in his work and couldn't come with me, I headed to New York last week, for Megan and David's hitching.  It couldn't have been lovelier.  They got married in the back gardens of a castle.

There were parasols for the guest waiting outside, then loads of dancing, food and drinks.  I saw people I hadn't visited with since I left New York.  And even in the midst of all the activities, Megan and I visited a bit as well. 

She and David hired a celebrity silhouette artist to work the wedding.  (Yes these do exist.  The night before this guy ---who was second generation, using his father's scissors that had never been sharpened--- had flown in from Los Angeles where he was the entertainment at a movie premiere.) 

He snipped out two copies.  One for the guest to keep and another to be glued into their guest book with a note.  Because my family couldn't come, Megan told me to bring a photo for the artist to use.  
(Yep, that's an approximation of Sweet Lillie. I had a photo of Milo, too.  But then actual human guests walked up and got in line, so we decided to wait.  Then time ran out.  I hate that we don't have a full family, but oh well...)

Megan loved Lillie's so much that after we walked Adele, her puppy who is almost exactly Lillie's age, she sat down for a portrait as well.


David waited patiently standing by...

And then it was almost time to go. 

Måned-dag

I'm not a huge fan of holidays. As a general rule, I think that any government, religious or Hallmark mandated holiday is packed with unreasonable expectations and fraught with danger. Of course, those expectations are usually mine and the danger comes when my mind is not read.

So, I try my best take them off the table. But I do love made up holidays.

And, Husband, as with most of my ideas that are not illegal, immoral or hideously expensive, indulges me.

So a few months ago, in the early days of March, the weather here was a little dreary and I decided we needed a holiday. So, we agreed on month-aversaries---Every month on the 16th, we would have a little celebration.

When he told another recently married colleague at his work why he was leaving a bit early for the March month-aversary, that colleague said "Watch out man, you're traveling on a slippery slope..."

I think that comment frightened Husband a bit, so he announced he has only bought into this holiday schedule for a year. After that, it will be on a case-by-case basis. So, we'll see how it goes, but it's all okay with me....

For the etymologists out there, yes, quite possibly the correct term would be mensis-aversary or some such, but I just can't do it. (I have a general aversion to the fact that using the word mensis in conjunction with our -versary would only conjure up thoughts of feminine products. I just can't do it...)

And in Norwegian, I think the construction would be something like måned-dag, but I can't pronounce that yet, so monthaversary it will be for the foreseeable future...

So thus far

February 16th
We ate cake




March 16th
We went skiing



April 16th
We ate Italian food and Husband got me a flower that I have been able to keep alive thus far.




May 16th
We're traveling again, but this time, it's in search of a traditional smorgasbord or perhaps some oddly shaped glasses.

Picture Perfect

I think it's really hard to take photos that look exactly like us (really, of me in particular).

And these two are...


(December 1, 2006---my 35th birthday party---almost two months after the beginning of the first part)



(February 16, 2008---getting hitched---almost two months after the beginning of the second part)

Post Office Bride

It's complicated to get all the paperwork to live in Norway.  There is such a strong social system here that the government can be stringent about who can and cannot stay in the country.  

Sure there could be ways around it, I guess, but everything depends on a personal ID number which comes with the visa.  Without one, you cannot register to see a doctor, get a bank account, apply for a work permit, etc... It's a pretty big deal. I'm semi-unclear about some of the details, but for a variety of reason, I needed to register. 

So on Friday morning, we gathered my stack of papers and headed to the police station.  Which is pretty swanky as police stations go.  It's open and airy and art is hanging on the wall. No rotten criminals or unattractive mugshots.

My stack of papers, included, but was not limited to our marriage license, my birth certificate, applications, a copy of my passport, photos and Husband's financial statements.  We had heard that that last was ultra important because we have to prove that I have some means of support, to illustrate that I will not get here and then start applying for monies from the state.

We thought that it would be relatively easy for me.  Husband lived and worked here for more than three years, so instead of just a work permit, he has a settlement permit, meaning that he doesn't have to reapply and can stay as long as he would like. 

Well, as we stepped up to the window, we realized that I actually needed a Family Reunification Visa, which is loads more expensive and also has more criteria involved. 

The woman behind the desk flips through our paperwork and asks to see Husband's passport. She takes it away to make a copy of it for my file. Then when we ask how long it will be for the visa to come back, she laughs a bit and says perhaps five to six months.

Then she asks if I am a Post Office Bride.  

Because Husband is not Norwegian, but has a Settlement Permit, we are in a special category. 

The office is sending my application to Oslo, where it will go into a pile of applications.  Then when it comes to our turn, they will compare the travel reflected on my passport with the travel reflected on Husband's. 

They want to make sure we've been in the same places at the same times and that he didn't just pick me out of a catalogue. 

Which, while annoying to be sure, it's really pretty funny.  Sometimes the truth is only just a shade off.