Saga of the Hallinglag: Den Første

Many many apologies to you all!  I fully intended to bring you the exciting play-by-play of my weekend in Fargo, but it appears that I have failed miserably.  I know that excuses are not really acceptable, but perhaps once I complete my recap for you all, you may feel a bit more forgiving.

The last time I updated was Thursday night, and I believe I was in a fairly genial state of mind, so I will start from that point.

Let me start by giving you a few more details about the hotel.  First of all, due to some bizarre design focus, it was apparently deemed well and good that there be no outside facing windows in any of the rooms.  That's right.  Technically, there was one window, but it was located by the front door and looked out at the wall of the hallway outside.  Not exactly scenic.

Next, I will share that the ventilation system in the hotel was somewhat, shall we say, outdated?  There were no control knobs on the actual vent as would have been expected.  One had to look a bit harder to find temperature controls on the opposite end of the room immediately outside the door to the adjoining room.  As a side note, I did NOT have the room adjoining my grandfather and uncle.  At first I was a little miffed about this, but in retrospect, I realize it was probably a blessing (of sorts).

Being the great investigator that I am, I managed to find the temperature controls.  Unfortunately, moving the knobs and switches on the ancient device proved to have absolutely no effect.  Thankfully the system happened to be set on a cooler mode thus avoiding the horrible possibility that the heater would start.  If there is anything that ruins a good night sleep for me, it is excessive heat.  Or so I thought.

You see, the Hallinglag of America was not the only group descending upon Fargo, ND this past weekend.  Apparently there was a huge golf tournament, some youth soccer tournaments and perhaps also a youth hockey tournament.  Oh, and of course, there were several other "Lags" meeting in town.  That's right, folks.  You didn't honestly think that the Hallinglag was the only such group around, did you?  Heck no!

Translation to this situation:  the hotel was completely booked with not only the elderly, but with children as well.  Children who apparently did not have any parental oversight or normal bedtime requirements.  Do you see where I am heading?  Here is the equation:  Crappy ventilation system = zero fan noise.  Zero fan noise = absolute silence.  Unsupervised children = loud hallway ruckus at very late hours.  Therefore, crappy ventilation system + unsupervised children = terrible sleeping conditions for Megan. 

That was just for the first night.  On the second night, add in my father sleeping in the next bed, probably about as lightly as I was.  Unfortunately for my father (and me), the result of light sleep generally equals loud snoring.  You can probably imagine how this improved the sleeping situation.

Enough about that.  Oh, wait.  One more thing about the hotel room.  Apparently, when my father went to use the shower on Saturday morning, he discovered (and killed) three Silverfish in the shower room.  He chose not to tell me about this until after breakfast when he knew that I was not only done eating but would not need to use the shower again during our stay.  If you don't know what a Silverfish looks like, check this out.

OK.  Back to the Hallinglag.

Let us start with Friday morning.  In anticipation of the fact that old people tend to be early risers, I set my alarm to be ready for breakfast by 8 a.m.  I figured that my grandfather would be up well before that and that my uncle would likely be up as well.  At 7:15 a.m. I hopped out of bed and spent the next 45 minutes preparing myself to meet the day.

Just as I was finishing, I opted to send my uncle a quick text to let him know I was ready, just in case they had already gone down to the dining room.  I received no response.  I found this unusual as my uncle pays quite close attention to his cell phone; much like a teenager, he is fond of texting and updating his Facebook page on-the-go. 

Once I was completely ready, I knocked on the door to their room and immediately did not receive a response.  I waited.  About a minute later, my uncle appeared at the door, clearly groggy with sleep and with the room dark behind him.  Apparently, they were not up yet.  I informed them that I was going to eat and that I would check in with them later.

Clearly, I would have preferred NOT to go to breakfast alone, but I figured that the serving style would be like other hotels I had stayed in before:  self-serve.  Once again, the Vista Inn defied expectations.  Breakfast was served in the same cramped space as the "Meet and Mingle" of the previous night, and when I arrived it was clear that space would again be a problem.  While there were several tables without occupants, they were all covered in dirty dishes that had yet to be cleared. 

A quick scan of the situation revealed that the serving setup was seat yourself and wait to be served by the ONE waitress running frantically back and forth to and from the kitchen.  She apologized profusely for the mess and I smiled and sat down alone at one of the messy tables to wait my turn.  I did consider trying to make myself useful in the kitchen until I saw a clearly posted sign that "Only Staff Allowed in Kitchen."

So.  I sat in the crowded room full of hotel occupants all alone and tried to look confident.  That's when a group of friendly fellow Hallings noticed my plight and asked me to join their table of three.  So I sat with them and introduced myself while enjoying breakfast with my new friends.  One of them turned out to be from Willmar, so we had a nice little chat about my hometown.  Turns out her granddaughter was in the same grade as my brother.  Who knew?

It was also during this conversation that I realized that I may be a bit of a person of interest, and not just because of my age.  Apparently, I am a bit of a "Super Halling."  Why is this, you ask?  Well.

You see, obviously, my grandfather is a Halling.  Why else would he be at the Hallinglag?  At the age of 84, he is a bit of a legend in the group, although I was not able to definitively determine whether that was good or bad.  As he is my father's father, we share the same last name, thus making our connection all the more obvious as we were all wearing nametags. 

So I've got that going for me, right?  But that's not all.  You see, my grandpa isn't my only Halling connection.  Oh no.  My grandmother (his wife) also was a Halling.  While she has been deceased for more than 40 years and never likely attended a Hallinglag in her life, her siblings have been very involved over the years.  In fact, both her brother and sister have been officers at different points in time.

When I introduced myself, therefore, I would tell people that I was Eugene's granddaughter and ALSO that I am Dorothy's great-niece.  They were usually initially quite confused.  No one knew that Eugene was married to the sister of such prominent people, you see.  The look of surprised admiration in their eyes upon this revelation was quite humorous to behold, to be honest.

So there you have it - I must be the chosen one to lead the Hallings into the next century.  Maybe.  If I feel like it.

Good grief, I just took a very ridiculous sidetrack, didn't I?  Back to the story. 

By the time I finished eating breakfast, my grandfather and uncle had appeared in the dining room.  I excused myself from my table of new friends and greeted my relatives.  I then decided to pick up our registration materials.  Armed with our nametags and event tickets, I returned to the dining room to distribute. 

Unfortunately, by this time, breakfast was winding down.  My grandfather and uncle had yet to be served, and my grandfather was clearly getting anxious.  His irritation only increased when he noted that some other people who arrived after him had already received food and drink.  He felt that he was being ignored, and he wasn't going to stand for it. 

So he instructed my uncle to go back to the kitchen.  When Dean failed to comply, he turned to me.  I carefully pointed out the sign that forbid guests in the kitchen.  I then suggested that he march his cute little grandpa self up there and try to charm the waitstaff as they would likely respond better to the dissemblings of a charming old man than a pushy girl.  Ever the passive-agressive, he chose to do nothing.  Except complain.  All weekend.

By the time that our breakfast shenanigans were over (and the men received their food), the genealogy presentations were well under way already.  We snuck in towards the end, just in time to catch some random statements about the Hallinglag and the notice that they were breaking for coffee and treats. 

We all adjourned to the "courtyard" for the break, but not without many complaints over the set up and line that resulted.  I am not sure who thought it would be a good idea to make a bunch of elderly people wait in line for long periods of time, but take note:  it is a bad idea.  After retrieving a prized fattigman cookie for myself and one for my father, I waited patiently for the next event.

Apparently, there is some sort of horn-type instrument called a lur that is used to call the Hallinglag to order.  If you check out the link in the previous sentence, you can find some pretty awesome pictures of lurs.  Rest assured, none of our lur players stood shirtless on cliffs.  Thank goodness.

After the call of the lur, the meeting began.  At this point, my father arrived.  Just in time for the singing of the national anthems.  Oh yes, not only do we sing the U.S. National Anthem, we also sing Norway's and Canada's.  Not crazy, I guess, but my only request would be that they choose a lower key register next time around.  No one in the group could comfortably sing that high any more.

From that point, there really wasn't much to note.  Except for a very bizarre attempt to perform Abbott and Costello's "Who's On First?" routine along with a "modern" version using computer lingo.  The performers stressed several times that they had only practiced once.  Honestly.  I have NO idea what this had to do with the Hallinglag, Norway or anything else for that matter.  And they wonder why the younger generations aren't interested?  Hm.

Once the insanity ceased, the crowd again formed a ridiculously long line to eat their luncheon.  At this point, we abandoned my grandfather to his people and my uncle, father and I went to a Mexican restaurant.  Although my uncle had some issue with getting a bean burrito when he ordered a beef burrito, the rest of the experience was good.  For my part, I thoroughly enjoyed a lovely margarita.  Don't judge - I just had one.  And I needed it, as I was soon to discover.

You know what?  I think that I am going to pause to publish at this point.  This entry is getting long and I still have more information to cover.  So you will just have to sit on the edge of your seats until I bring you the exciting conclusion of the Saga of the Hallinglag!

Kan du snakke norsk?

Even though we are only a short way into the raging blowout party that is the Hallinglag, I feel I should update on the adventure.

My travels were relatively smooth.  I left work early and departed up the great U.S. Interstate Highway 94 towards Fargo, ND.  My first (and only) stop was in scenic Sauk Centre, MN to retrieve my uncle and grandfather.  Once we got moving again, we didn't stop again until we crossed the state lines.

Rather than just check in, we opted for the more adventurous route and drove to my great-aunt's apartment in downtown Fargo.  If there is one thing that I can say about this is that the lady has a collection of items that could never be replicated anywhere.  She has lived and traveled all over the world and her apartment is living proof of this fact.

After some bathroom breaks and a little movement after the confines of the car, we went to the Fargo landmark:  The Fryn' Pan Restaurant.  I distinctly remember coming to this place with my friends in college when we came up to see Jill at Concordia.  If I recall correctly, the caramel rolls are awesome.  Today I opted for a more conservative option of a chicken sandwich and Diet Coke.  Not as great, but maybe I can talk my dad into going back.  These are his old college stomping grounds, after all.

Once we had our fill of family restaurant delectables, I left the men at the apartment and took on the task of checking us all in to the hotel.  I have to admit, I had my doubts about the place based on the websites, but it really is pretty decent.  Staying here will definitely not be a problem.

After completing my bellhop duties, I checked out the wi-fi situation.  As you can see, I am updating my blog, so they get another thumbs-up in that category.  Once the rest of the crew caught up with me here, we gussied up a bit and headed to the informal reception.  Unfortunately, the Hallinglag planning crew opted for a more cramped room for the first night "Meet and Mingle" event, so we didn't stay long.

I should qualify that a bit.  We did not stay in the reception room long.  Our attempt to return to our rooms was postponed by some introductions that we made in the hotel lobby.  This really wasn't a problem.  In fact, I discovered that my grandfather is a bit of a well-known celebrity.  One woman actually said that she had heard a lot about him from her parents over the years.  I can only assume that she heard good things, but one never knows.

Sadly, I managed to forget to grab my camera despite the fact that I mentally reminded myself several times to grab it before leaving the house.  Fortunately, my uncle has been taking pictures and tomorrow my father arrives with another camera.  Other than my grandfather and his antics, there hasn't been much to gather photographically today, although I really wish that I had a tape recorder sometimes.

So at the very least, you can expect to hear more tomorrow once I have officially "registered" and events really begin to get moving.  At least I hope they move.  Based on the relative difference in age between myself and the rest of the group, I'm not sure.  On the plus side, being 31 years old in this setting makes me feel young for a change.  Ha det bra!!!!

Wish me luck...

In the interest of preserving my sanity and documenting momentous events, I am doing a very un-Megan like thing by toting my laptop along with me this weekend to the Hallinglag.  Combined with the camera that I will hopefully remember to pick up today, I should be able to offer up some points of interest for the next couple of days.  Plus I will be able to work on my homework while on the road.  Bonus.

Since I am sure you're all interested, the "final" plan is apparently for me to pick up both my grandfather and uncle this afternoon for our trip to Fargo.  Thankfully, my mother offered her slightly larger vehicle for this purpose, so we will not be uncomfortable. 

Unfortunately, due to the fact that my grandfather will be in the car, we will be limited in our music choices.  You see, although my grandfather likes music (generally), he has some kind of odd fixation with the belief that drums and other percussive sounds are "unnecessary."  Why?  Oh, no reason.  So, unless I am willing to listen to hours of choral or classical music, we will rely on our conversation skills to get us ready. 

Actually, I think it could be considered a near certainty that my grandfather will try to get us to sing some songs in Norwegian.  The difficulty of this is that only he really knows the words or the tunes to these songs.  He is well aware of this, but for some reason he chooses to insist that we sing along.  If we're lucky, he will again instruct me that I need to take up the "fiddle."  More likely than not, he will have a story about one of his cousins as well, which will certainly lead into a long and convoluted story about some obscure former resident of North Fork Township who had 25 children, ate nothing but beets and brushed their teeth with dandelion wine. 

As a side note, this is my first time away from my dog overnight since I adopted her in February.  I know she is in a place where she feels safe and is comfortable, but I hope she isn't too traumatized to sleep with someone else for two nights.  Honestly, I do not even know how sleeping will go for me without my little Lean Bean next to me.  (Sniff)

Anyway, as a final gesture of goodwill, here are a few more "old" drawings to remember me by, just in case my brain ceases to function (or the advertised wi-fi connection in the hotel does not work). 




Now appearing at El Rodeo in Maple Grove!




"Laser Baby"



Oh, you know, just a partially completed groundhog.

 

Pardon my laziness

It really is a little bit ridiculous how excited I am getting about my upcoming adventure into No Man's Land, aka Fargo, ND.  True, I may be one of the youngest people in attendance, but I have always been able to get along with the elderly.  Maybe it was all those years playing piano for the nursing home church services.

Right on schedule, my seasonal allergies have decided to show up.  So this morning, I took my first dose of Claritin.  Ah, lovely drugs. 

Because I feel a little bit bad about not writing for a few days, I would really like to do a big funny write-up, but my brain just done 'bout dried up!  But I will see what I can do.

How do you feel about some more archived drawings?  Good?  Fantastic.  Enjoy.



Emergency preparedness.



We come in Peace.



Put THIS on your t-shirt!



Wouldn't you like to be a Pooper too?

I hope you enjoyed my lightly captioned and barely explained drawing archive remnants.  Have a nice day. 



Artist's Renderings

There was a time that I was quite prolific with my artwork.  Perhaps I will experience such creativity again, but before I can do that I feel that I should publish some of the works that I did not release previously.

Enjoy.



Bow before me!

This drawing was inspired by an online article written by one of my favorite cartoon bloggers, Allie Brosh of Hyperbole and a Half.  Here I am, taking Allie's advice and dominating in the workplace.




Celebrate good times.  Come on!

Every year, we must come up with appropriate holiday greetings in the workplace.  This one did not make the cut as most people could not appreciate we were referencing the landing of Columbus in his ships. 



Finding my style

 Sometimes it is fun to draw like a child.  Except when you are not trying to draw like a child.  Then it is worrisome.




Happy Valentine's Day

 Someone brought a whole bag of Lindor truffles into work and it was very difficult to avoid.  I decided to make it my creative muse for a potential greeting card pitch.  I am pretty sure it didn't work largely due to my awful choice of background color.  Was I thinking that it looked like grass?  Who knows?



Don't try this at home.

This must have been drawn around the time of the potluck.  Sometimes, when I feel nice, I will make a dessert called "Death By Chocolate."  It really is decadent, but I never have leftovers so people must rationalize their consumption pretty strongly.

So there are more pictures to come in the future, but I thought that I would leave you with these for now.  I don't want to overload your brains with my artistic genius.

If I only had the [insert skill here].

There are many things in life that I wish that I had the talent, willpower or memory to do. 

This may come as a surprise, but I am not that coordinated.  In fact, I think that there may have been some mention of this in my preschool screening evaluation.  Honestly, I am not sure why my parents did not embark on a regimen of balance and motor skill improvement exercises while I was still under the age of five.

Actually, they did put me in tumbling classes.  Oh, and my dad actually coached me in little kid soccer.  They may have even let me take ballet lessons.  As it turns out, the problem may be more mental than physical. 

If I recall correctly, the problem with tumbling was that I lacked the confidence to hurl myself head first at the mat to perform a cartwheel. 

The problem with soccer was that while I understood the basic rules, I was irritated with the ridiculous obsession with avoiding hand/arm contact with the ball.  Seriously, why not just tie our hands behind our backs?

Ballet was a bit simpler than the rest - they gave me a blue skirt.  I had grown up using my mom's old dance costumes as Halloween costumes and for general dress up.  These were no simple costumes - they were legitimate tutus.  I had big dreams of leaping across stages in pointy toe shoes and flouncy tutus. 

The reality for me was far less glamorous.  We wore our own leotards and only got floppy flat ballet shoes.  But the worst indignity?  They gave us gauzy skirts to wear over our leotards.  These skirts came in two colors:  pink and blue.  We were not given our choice of color.  Can you guess what Megan was given?  Blue.  The color of boy things.  It did not sit well with me.  My friends and I quit ballet shortly after this, but my skirt received a second life as a prop for dressing up my youngest brother.

Moving on from childhood memories, I find that I am severely lacking when it comes to creativity in home decorating.  Oh, I have pictures on the wall and my furniture matches.  Unfortunately, when it comes to paint and accessories, I have no idea what I am doing. 

To illustrate this, let me share that although I have lived in my house for almost seven years, the walls are all still white.  Every time I think about choosing color and coordinating the active painting portion of things, I balk.  It's so much easier to just let it be.  I rationalize that if and when I do ever prepare to sell my house, I will most certainly paint.  My additional rationalization is that this way I can avoid any potential damage that may occur if I live with the new paint color.  As I have already stated, I am not coordinated.  My walls bear witness to the times that I have run into them with pieces of furniture, luggage or shoes. 

For my final example, I will bring up knitting.  Yes, I can do a basic knit stitch which in turn leads to the only item I can create with said stitch:  a scarf.  I would love to know how to purl and then to create other items such as hats, mittens, sweaters, slippers, etc.  Actually, I have been shown how to purl and do have access to people with the necessary skills to show me how to move beyond scarfage.  Unfortunately, I lack the memory and talent to remember how to do this when on my own.  It is hard enough for me to remember how to cast on.

I hope that now that I have shared some of my shortcomings with the world that my readers will be kind and considerate of my diminished capacities.  I promise that there are things that I can do well.  Foosball is one.  Typing is another.  My ability to alphabetize is also quite impressive.  Let me know if you need demonstrations of any of these skills.  You know where to find me.

Under Pressure: A Conversation

Please do not remind me, I am well aware of the fact that I am posting twice in one day.  It is just that I feel that my last post was a bit inferior.  Of course, feelings are subjective and it could be that I am under the influence of dreary weather combined with complimentary coffee that my friend refers to as "cat piss," but who knows.  I do not really know what cat urine smells like, so I will take her word for it.  This is why I should always stop at Caribou before work.

One thing that I have noticed in several of my favorite blogs is that people really like to write out past conversations.  I am always amazed at their ability to recall phrases, but maybe I am giving them too much credit.  Perhaps they are mere remembering the gist of things more than actual word placement.  With that in mind, I shall now endeavor to do some of the same.

To give you a background (What?  You were expecting immediate dialog?  Please.  You should know me better than that by now.), my brother has been dating a lovely girl named Heidi for almost three years.  They are both in their late 20's (or on the cusp of 30 if you want to round up).  They have been living together for a year.  It is pretty clear that this is a serious relationship and I believe that my brother intends for it to be permanent.  He just doesn't appear aware of how to do so.

Enter my mother.  Like all good mothers, she wants her children to be happy.  She also has needs of her own; specifically, she wants grandchildren.  My brother, the constant procrastinator, also has a penchant for deliberately trying to annoy my mother.  He doesn't need me to tell him that this is playing with fire, but apparently he likes to take the risk.

Anyway, last weekend, my brother came home for the wedding.  Although the topic came up more than once, I believe it was at the wedding reception that the clearest and most direct inquiry was made.  My brother and I were seated with my parents at a table in my aunt's backyard enjoying some food and beverages, when the spirit of weddings took hold of my mother.

Mom:  So Mikey, do you think you and Heidi will get married?

Mikey:  (Silence)

Mom:  Do you ever talk about marriage?

Mikey:  Yeah...

Mom:  (Changing tactics)  So where do you think you'd get married?

Mikey:  Ummmm... probably Vermont?  [Heidi's home state]  Most of her family lives there.

Me:  (Deciding to help out)  Sweet!  I have always wanted to go there!  Just remember, don't make me stay in a tent.  If I am going to be photographed in wedding photos, I do not want to deal with the mess that ensues when I sleep in a tent.  Right?  (Because it's all about me, isn't it?)

Mikey:  (Laughs.  Coughs.  Hopes that the subject will soon be changed.)

Mom:  But really, don't you worry that she will get sick of waiting for you to take action?

Mikey:  (Silence)

(Clearly this was going nowhere, so I again jumped in.)

Me:  Ummm... wait.  Michael, I was just wondering.  If you were to decide to propose or to come up with a plan, would you even tell us?  Or would you prefer to surprise everyone?

Mikey:  Oh yeah, I would surprise you all. 

Mom:  Hmph. 


Please keep in mind that this is just one example of what we do to Mikey when we have him alone.  My dad usually stays silent for the interrogation, but I know he feels the same as us.  It is definitely an eye opener of what guys must go through when they face their families and have not yet proposed to their long term girlfriends.  Or who are currently highly educated and unemployed.  I can only imagine what would happen if he didn't live four hours away.