a little post and an update

The first day of work has long since passed.
And no – it wasn’t as bad as I thought thankfully. Bad experiences, however, can’t help but cause one alarm once in a while and everyone is always bricking it on the first day.

Yesterday we had our first snow and the first flash of bitter cold that won’t compare to the true cold winter has to offer us for however long we stay in Wyoming. I think I could stay but I’d always be wondering what the sea was doing without me and if I was missing out, someplace else.  I can tell that Jack is ready to be home in Texas where the sun is always hot and everything is familiar, I don’t blame him. He’s a hot blooded creature and likes hot blooded places – though I find him quite at home in Denmark too. The man flourishes on burning plains not frozen ones. Having said that he’s a good egg and there’s nothing he can’t tackle . We both enjoy it here immensely, truly,  but there comes a time when the body starts yearning to be where your grave will be planted.
Without a doubt I can definitely relate to that dreadful pining for home though. That has hit me pretty hard lately, it has its moments and its ups and downs. It comes often and then hardly at all.  Such is life sadly. And it goes on — the harshest words in history. Life goes on. Oh what a terrible thing though you’re glad it does in some way.

The best way to describe how I am feeling  – I am tired of being foreign. It’s a fucking hard job to keep up. It’s work. Even going home to Denmark I’m foreign and that is a great pain to me. A heavy weight on my shoulders that already have mountains piled high.

This week I started drivers ed, which is as dull and time consuming as it sounds but it only feels as such due to the copious amounts of free time I now don’t have. I had to cancel all my hours at the antique shop which I really enjoyed, for the whole month because there’s not enough time in the day. Feeling much like a confined animal whose being poked at from all different angles, that’s me lately and I’m ever so tired. This is the realistic life of a traveler. It’s not all hot suns, sandaled feet and perfect pictures for posting. Its bloody noses, falling on ice and the most magical experiences that you don’t always have to share with someone else.

Starting over. New jobs. New places and faces and situations that might not be what you expected. October is already a very stressful month for me. I can’t relax because I want the driving over with because its 45 minutes to the class room, it interferes with my job and my evenings but that’s adulting. 14 hour days and very few hours of sleep. Quite so. And when it’s over I’ll find another blasted thing to bother me because such is the life of me. The class itself is fine – all three hours of it. I can drive alright but it’s the other cars I have an issue with, so.. take that for what it is.

I believe in making the most of everyday though. At work there can be a lot of time where there’s nothing to do, and instead of sitting there reading the comedy of errors that is the news or wasting away of on Facebook – I find free books to read and i always do writing exercises. Every day. For those of you who don’t know… reading is 50% writing and I do it to keep up my creativeness as much as possible and keep my soul from running the fuck away. I stumbled across some wonderful sailing novels that I thoroughly enjoyed and there also happened to be two novels by Jens Peter Jacobsen, a Danish man with a talent for modernism and brimful descriptions. It was well translated, that has to be said, but Danish books (and any foreign book in general) should always be read in their mother tongue. So much is lost in translation and words are changed entirely if there IS no translation.
Having said that, if you’re reading you’re already winning.

And finally…
Christmas is coming and we’ll be spending it in Denmark with all the family. I haven’t been able to spend Christmas at home for many many years now and Denmark is the best place on earth at Christmas time. Believe me.
This Christmas, though a few are missing from the table this year and from beneath it, will be special and annoying and full of laughter and a ridiculous amount of food for a single belly to muster. Really I have had a lot of great things taken care of within only 6 weeks and everything is well, however because I’m on the loopy side of depressive all I can focus on is getting the damn driving over with, so I can have my creative hours back in my every day. I’m sure some of you can relate. If you’re creative and you’re kept from your output – you’re a god damn disaster. A bomb walking around meanly ticking at good people.

Enjoy your Friday night and find the good in your day, 24 hours at a time.

our first month

We’ve officially been here a month as of last week, and it’s already been one hell of a ride.
It’s been wonderful. Scary. Stressful x 10. Hard. Exhausting. But we’re here and we’re making it work. Many things have  happened already.
So in it’s honour — the anniversary of yet another big adventure —  here is a minefield of pictures from our first month back in the West.















old bow leg

Well, as you can see I found a home in Wyoming. A place that is enough to possibly persuade me to stop running one day. If Wyoming were an ocean I would spend my life trying to drink it, whether the salt would burn and poison me would be trivial. Though even New England where the sea was close — I found myself missing the sea because it was so cramp and full of tourists. It was never like those cold nights alone on Sand Bay beach. Thousands of miles from me now and years of memories past.
Here there is no ocean or tall ships, there is only waves and waves of empty prairie. And for now I shall have to get my oceanic fix when I fly home to Denmark or you know.. if I ever get lucky enough to take a holiday to Saint Vincent where the sea is blue and the sand is whiter than I am.

I could never choose what I loved most or what I wanted to do. And so I told the world to go fuck itself.
I’ll do it all.
And I have.

I’ve sailed with pirates and commodores. Ive ridden horses on the Texas front and I’ve been the clown I was born to be. These days I find myself in a strange state of mind. A happiness wrapped in dark melancholy that is oddly comforting.
I have a job that pays me and will fund every dream from now. I have the west and I find my dreams coming true even weekly. But when you are a part of so many things that make your heart pump a million, there is always something missing.
Today is not a day that I will sail. Nor is tomorrow. But there will be a day when I see the sea and we’ll kiss like we always do.

I don’t know what kind of believer I am, but I know things do happen. And one thing that happened most recently, something that shook me to my core, was that I met a horse.. a horse that captured me like a sail from a mast holding the wind. An old man whom I call Old Bowleg. Im sure local photographers have an actual name for him, but I gave him this one.
A majestic horse that has seen war with half his ear chewed from its cartilage and a leg bent all out of shape. Yet still he stands as tall as the trees at the bottom of a valley. Still he knows the favorable wind and it flows through his mane. If there was a god — he walks this earth with a bowleg. Now that is something I can believe in.
He was a painting. He was an old chieftain without his tribe. I believe that he had been run off from his mares by a younger suitor. So out there on top of the mountain I found him. Between the reeds and the straw. This beautiful animal, stronger than any man I’ve ever seen, and his faith never wavered in all his years regardless of the fact that his leg struggled beneath him. It didn’t matter because he could fly.


If I had had the time to sit and talk with him a while I would have, but alas it was not be this time. If he Is still alive when the summer comes I shall look for him and maybe I am destined to look for him for an eternity. If that is the way, so be it. But how grateful I am to have seen him even for a moment, it seemed but a second. He was what I always dreamed a true American mustang must be. What America was and can be again. Thats unfair. America is a wonderful place, but the politics — the never fucking ending political bullshit is nonsense. And so I don’t think about it. I think about what I see and what I feel.

And that horse, that day — he took something from me and since I saw him I haven’t been able to stop feeling like I wanted to run back. I don’t relate to people. Thats not my business. Animals, its always the animals. They have me in a vice. Bowleg gave me something… a vision. I will remember him as my spirit horse — the one who taught me that though I have been pained and wounded it doesn’t have to stop me. It doesn’t have to define me. As long as I remember.
Remember. Remember. Remember.
To as true to you as you can be.
It doesn’t matter what Agatha did or what Johnson said. Riley can go fuck himself. What matters today and tomorrow is what you are.

No one can take that from me. And no one can take it from you.
Wopila!

whats coming to etsy…

I know i’ve been talking about getting things on etsy and nothing has come of it, but i’ve just been so incredibly busy. Having said that i can finally show most of what is going up on Etsy when i find the time to load it. I’m also currently working on the Troldmand sweater but theres still a sleeve and the rest of the body to go. Anyway, you can check out my mini autumn collection below.
Let me know what you think!

Shetland Sweater , Sommer Hus Sweater, Jordgrub sweater, Calamity Jane Blanket scarf and Astrids Collar.