Mr. Posten man delivered sweet surprises in my mailbox yesterday!  One was a "stained glass" heart made by me nephews which now graces my picture window so the sun can strike it almost continuously as it travels across the sky. The package I was expecting from home home also arrived - and inside was a Memphis calendar from my in-laws. (really, they are my son's girlfriend's grandparents, but we might as well be family at this point!)  I need to acquire a thumbtack so I can pin it to the wall to remind me every day I have people who love me, however far away they are.

The past two weeks have been a whirlwind of travel - not simply with the school visits, but with vacations as well.  I traveled to the Arctic again - Finnsnes, near Senja.  Still no Northern Lights.  I dashed back to make it to the Fulbright Seminar, where all the grantees discussed their work so far.  I feel unworthy in their company - so many innovative, impressive projects. Everything from algae to e-poetry to Somali immigration and Norwegian as a second language in the Sami culture.  *OVERWHELMED*  That was followed by dinner with the US ambassador.  THEN - we all boarded a bus and traveled past Lillehammer to the Skeikampen resort for a ski weekend.

The scenery was spectacular - and the food at the buffet was delicious.  It is amazing how hungry cross country makes you.  How do I know?  I skied. Yes yes - I know it's far-fetched, but I did.  Not well, but I survived mostly intact.  No bruises - unlike my sledging escapade at New Year's.  I could not have done it without the instruction and encouragement of my "ski instructors," Judi and Rena.  Will I do it again - ummmm.  Maybe.  Downhill - no.  I can not envision myself hurtling down a mountain with 2 inch wide slats of wood attached to my feet and two sticks to guide me. But I definitely have a new respect for skiers.  Exhausting.  My Norwegian muscles still hurt.

I've marveled at the incredible shade of blue the sky here.  It's seems so much clearer and purer than the bluest of the blue skies back home. (Sorry North Carolina, you've got nothing on Norway.)  Alas - that blue is hard to find in Oslo these days.  There is light, and sometimes sun, but the stunningly clear blue February sky of Stavanger is not to be had. There have been some other stunning sights, though.  The snow, heavy and fluffy, on the branches of the trees and bushes makes the whole world in to a Currier and Ives print.

As beautiful as the winter can be, I long for spring. For skirts, not tights, and blue skies with puffy white clouds. Crawfish and impromtu jam sessions in the living room, laughter and the clink of glasses, the crack of the bat against the ball. Mexican food on a patio, with a March wind whipping Susan's napkin across the parking lot. But for now, I'll settle for a Norwegian blue.