First of all, either Finland is somehow sucking all of the inspiration out of me (and possibly channeling it into drinking very, very, very bad tomato wine - yes, an actual tomato wine that someone made on purpose and my mother doesn't want all of you to know about, because it's "bad publicity for Finland" and she would like for all of you to love Finland as much as she does), or I've just been busy drinking coffee at my parents (they have a Moccamaster) and reading a whole years supply of old 'women's' magazines and the compulsory gardening crap my mother never seems to understand is one of my all time hates. I do love Me Naiset though (Us Women brings feelings into the net. What is there not to love?). It always takes me back to the 80s, whether it tries to or not.
Thus, I have been rather analog and IMless. Sorry about that.
It turns out that Finnish children are the fifth happiest in the world. I can see this in my brother who just got his driver's license and is finally enjoying life to the full. He is yet to have to put gas in the car though. That might just affect his overall happiness a smidgen, and his wallet a lot. Finland is still an expensive country and I have been very subtly, on several occasions, informed of the joy it would bring for my brother if there was more gas in the tank. I'm not budging, even though he is teaching me how to golf.
Due to my father's dishonest ways (but in the purpose of good) I and the hubby will be playing golf here. My father managed to transform our three lessons at the driving range that we managed in South Africa into handicaps good enough to be allowed to play on the nearby course. yesterday I was learning all about a swing, getting out of the bunker, chipping, and something else that involved the tiny ball, lots of metal and odd stares at my Birkenstocks and clinking bracelets. At the driving range I managed to hit a power wire and a bell and feel pretty good about my achievement. Hubby hit a fence twice.
I think we're ready to take on the course. Why not?
Regardless of needing a cleaning lady to come sort out the bachelorette pad we took over upon our arrival (read: mysterious and quite ominous looking things under the bed, perma-grime on the stove top, unmentionable issues with the bathroom, and such other pleasantries) and me wanting not to deal with the cleaning lady, on account of being on vacation from them and the poor lady therefore being left to deal with my mother, I'm quickly remembering why I return to this country every year, but also why I leave again.
I love summer Finland.
Pay here for inclusion I
1 year ago