The yellow bookshelf.

In my childhood things didn't come easy.

"Everyone else has it!" doomed your destiny - you wouldn't get it if you gave such a bad argument.

Sometimes you had to wait long and be patient.

I waited for this bookshelf.

It resided in my grandparents' loft for a quarter of a century and for at least the past 15 years it was obvious to everyone it was me who dreamt of a shared life with that bookshelf.

When I told my grandpa I was about to move again he asked me if I'd like to have it.

Here it is.

With home delivery.

Assembled by grandpa (87).

Baby bliss.

Last year while I was away, loads of friends sneakily made wee babies. Now there's finally a new baby on it's way and the best part is that my new home is less than 10 minutes away from this cute poopmachine! We had a wee baby shower a couple of weeks back and I crocheted a blankie for them. I would like to say I'm tired of waiting already but as it might be a little inconsiderate knowing how eagerly my friend would like to meet her newborn, I'll just tell you there's not that many things I'm looking forward to more than this new human being!

PS. The crocheting is quite ok but oh my word the amount of loose ends to finish off! Whoa!

If Muurame went Ikea.

Today was full of hard work, let me tell you.

First an early swim in bright sunlight at 6.45am, then some tax justice campaign planning. That stuff is complicated, let me tell you! The planning meeting was in an NGOs office and I tried several times to tell the front desk which meeting I'm planning to attend but my brain just produced the word "tax" and some non-comprende type mumbling. The lady understood me anyhow.

Then my very best brother drove 2h to help me move, smiled nicely as we carried some Muurame and Artek furniture. Let me tell you, it's no Ikea - weighs about a ton!

The trousers I bought him in Berlin fit perfectly. Super slim fit, low waist and a whole lot of attributes I did not understand.

Tomorrow, the move is to be continued.

Camera rasa.

After two weeks of travels I've landed back to my current home which is in a state that frustrates me. I'll be moving in the end of the month and therefore would rather put my energy into packing this mess into boxes instead of spending time cleaning.

Yesterday I cleaned the new place together with a friend. Four hours of scrubbing, mopping and wiping and now it's ready to welcome me. Camera rasa. With the grey wall I requested.

Those who go unseen.

I read the news of Boston last night right before going to bed.

Woke up in the morning to find out all my local friends had checked in on Facebook, they were all fine - such a relief.

Horrible, horrible incident. A lovely, cheerful event turned into a nightmare.

After following the Finnish media, the US media, the UK media and the social media today I've gradually become more and more uncomfortable.

Why do the news make this into such a big event even here in Finland that it is listed as the no 1 news story and the briefings from Boston are streamed live?

Why does nobody talk about the 30 odd human lives that were lost in bomb attacks in Iraq yesterday?

I know. In the news a Western life is worth much more than any other life. That's just the way it is.

I understand the logic, even though I don't accept it.

In the afternoon the peace organization where I volunteered last year stated their deepest condolences on Facebook, written by the leader of the community.

That's when I got frustrated.

Not because of the community sharing their feelings and letting the Bostonians know about their support.

But for all the conflicts, attacks and lost lives that go unnoticed by that same peace community.

Why did nobody say a word for the young people on Utoya in Norway when a gunman killed tens after tens of youth in the summer 2011? Sorry, eventually someone brought it up in a worship days later when I requested as I was upset.

Why weren't the Syrian and Congolese civilians remembered daily for the lives they lose in their contries every day?

Expressing ones feelings, sympathy and support is important.

But when a community expresses it, it becomes political.

First their should be a plan, a strategy to guide the decisionmaking. 

Who get our support? Who do we leave out?

50 shades of grey.

Picture from here.

No, it's not what you thought of.

I signed the contract for my new home today.

The landlord is the local parish which has proved to be brilliant already.

They keep the flat empty for two months so I won't have to pay double rent.

And they'll paint all the walls

And I'll get the grey wall I've dreamt of.

And they'll redo the floor. (Goodbye plastic carpet!)

And I' might get to move two weeks before my contract officially starts.

And I get to stay forever if I wish.

But oh boy there are many greys in the world. At least 50 shades to choose from. Whoa!

D is for Dissertation.

There

There isn't much more to tell to be honest.

D is also for Despair, Dislike and Dea... that's tea when your nose is so blocked from all the dust around the post-its (no hoovering allowed!) that you can't breathe.