That's my Story and I'm Stickin' to it.

Well, then. The other day when I was filling out the Meme that I got an “incomplete” on, I mentioned that I have been an international smuggler in my lifetime. Poolie jumped right on that one and told me I had to dish. It’s quite a sordid story, so you better think twice about reading it if you don’t like sordid!!

When we lived in Iceland we chose to live off base for the entire time we were there. We thought as long as we’re in this foreign country why not take advantage of it and get the full experience. This of course, made for some difficulties, but nothing we couldn’t overcome. The biggest difficulty was buying groceries at the commissary and getting them off base. Because Iceland was such a small country and things were so expensive there, it would have been easy to disrupt the economy by taking cheap groceries off base and selling them to the Icelandics.

Anytime you went on/off base you had to pass through a guard shack with not only Marine guards, but also Icelandic police. The Marines didn’t care what you had in your car; they were just there to keep the Icelandic police in line. The Icelandic police were there to inspect your car and make sure that you weren’t smuggling anything off base that wasn’t supposed to go. There were times when we saw them tearing cars apart, probably out of boredom, or just making a power statement. They loved to use the “intimidation factor.”

Each family that lived off base was allowed so many dollars a week in “take off.” The amount depended on your rate – the higher your rank the more you were allowed, which didn’t make any sense, but that’s the way it was. You could be an E3, have two children to feed, but wouldn’t be allowed as much as an E9 who had no children. So then you’d have to take your squanty little paycheck and go out on the economy to supplement your groceries in an expensive Icelandic grocery store.

Oh well, on to the smuggling.

We made some dear friends there, John and Donna. (We’re still in contact with them and see them at least every couple of years.) Donna was of Italian descent, with a mother who used to make all kinds of homemade Italian sausage and other treats. She regularly sent a care package to her daughter and son-in-law, who were generous people and always shared with their friends because we just couldn’t get that kind of stuff in Iceland, not even in the commissary (that’s the base grocery store for you folks who don’t have a military background.) Well, one day this huge package came to their house from her mother, and she called us to stop over after work and she would send some goodies home with us.

Previously the food items that she had sent were of the smaller variety – like maybe a bunch of sausage links that could be cut apart and placed in strategic coat pockets, purses, etc., in order to get them off base. But this time everything she sent was HUGE. I guess it was just before Christmas or something so she wanted all of us to thoroughly enjoy.

Oh yes, I should also tell you that if you were going to smuggle something out the gate you had to pick your time frames carefully. After going in and out of the gate several times a day for so long you got to know the Icelandic police and which ones were going to give you a thorough investigation, and which ones would just wave you through. Now there was an Icelandic guard by the name of Slouny who had a reputation for being the toughest guard on duty, but he usually worked a daytime schedule when the traffic was heavy, or a late night schedule about the time the clubs closed. So going out the gate between 8 and 9 didn’t usually present a problem.

Now back to the large Italian sausage. This honker had to be about 4 inches in diameter and approximately a foot long. I guess that’s not all that large unless you have to figure out a way to get it through customs when it’s not supposed to go. Now under normal circumstances we would have just shoved it under the seat because the guards on duty at that time would just wave you through.

For some reason I was driving that night and Ole was in the passenger seat as we approached the gate. And much to our astonishment who should be on duty that night, NOT at his usual time – Slouny of course. He was stopping every car, sticking his head WAY into the window and giving the car a good visual search. He even opened the trunks of several of the cars and made several of the passengers get out so he could crawl into the car and feel under the seats.

We were in a line of cars waiting to go through the gate, so to get out of line, turn around and leave would have made things pretty obvious. So – what to do. Ole reached under the seat, grabbed the sausage, unbuckled his dungarees (that’s navy work jeans for you non-military), and shoved the sausage down one trouser leg, buttoned his dungarees back up and buckled his belt so that it kind of held onto the sausage and it wouldn’t slip down his leg.

Well now – we waited in line for our turn, and as we inched towards Slouny, we tried not to look guilty. I approached the guard shack, rolled down my window and Slouny stuck his head in. Then he opened the car door and asked both of us to step out. Ole got out on the passenger side of the car hoping that Slouny wouldn’t come around to that side, but guess what – he did. He asked Ole to step back from the car and proceeded to feel around the floor, under the seats and into the pockets and glove box on the passenger side. I often wonder if he couldn’t smell the Italian sausage. He probably knew it was there and just couldn’t figure out where it was. He walked around the car several times, then looked Ole up and down, stopping his glance momentarily at Ole's mid section, gave Ole a strange “knowing” look, winked at him, grinned a bit and told us to go on our way. We’ll never know for sure but maybe he spotted the bulge in Ole’s pants and thought Ole had “other” things on his mind at that time.

One Friday night a bunch of us had gotten together out at our house for an impromptu party. We were all kind of broke, and couldn’t afford to go to the Icelandic liquor store and buy their expensive beer. At that time they had beer vending machines in the barracks so we went on base, put quarters in the vending machines and stuffed our jackets up the sleeves, in the pockets, etc., with cans of beer. There were five of us stuffed into a Volkswagen beatle, and we clanked when we moved, but we were successful in getting the beer home and had lots of fun following.

One night Slouny got his though. Chief Turner was leaving base late at night, headed for home, and Slouny thought for sure he was going to catch someone who was drinking and driving. This is a very BIG no-no in Iceland. ABSOLUTELY NO consumption of any kind or you lose your license and get tossed in jail. Well, Chief Turner didn’t drink at all – ever. And Slouny had this habit of sticking his head into your window, right in your face, very close to your mouth, then asking a question so he could smell your breath. He did this to Chief Turner, and Chief Turner gave him a big smack right on the mouth. One of those with “suction” – I guess Slouny changed his tactics after that!!

I really shouldn’t make light of this because it truly was a serious matter. One friend of ours got taken in for smuggling because he had a package of gum laying on his dash that was not listed on his take off. Again, the guard was Slouny. Our friend was written up for international smuggling, fined and now has a record. It doesn’t say WHAT he was smuggling, it just says “international smuggling.” There were various other incidents too, nothing ever really serious – no drugs or that kind of stuff. But our friend who had the gum on his dash says he still has problems when he comes back to the United States after a Mexican vacation. He’s ALWAYS thoroughly searched along with his luggage so he knows it’s still on his record.

Now for a little tour of the NATO base, which, much to our dismay, closed several years ago. We always planned to go back and see it again, but I guess we’ll just have to tour Iceland again without the Base.

Approaching the guard shack

The marine is standing in the door, Slouny is at the desk.

Leaving the base headed toward the town of Keflavik.



NAVCOMSTA - the building that Ole worked in.

The Supply Department where I worked.

This was the commissary (grocery store)

The gas station - gas was 22 cents a gallon

One of the streets on base. I believe these pictures were taken in January when we had about three hours of daylight. Note the lack of snow and the sloppy, muddy conditions. It's NOT cold there, like Minnesota.

That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.

Ole has a Rude Awakening!!

We had another Alberta Clipper blow in last night. We didn’t get much more than a couple of inches of snow with it, but it made for some nasty visibility and wind chills. It blew all night long and into the morning. Shortly after 6 a.m. Ole’s pager went off and the rescue squad and fire department were called out for a garage fire. The dispatcher said the garage was completely engulfed and there were two cars inside. The nasty wind and the cold wind chills make it extremely difficult and dangerous for the firemen.

So Ole tore out of bed, jumped into his jeans, and I threw a couple of protein bars into his pockets as he passed by on his way out the door headed for the fire department. We found out later, after the fire was all over and the computer reports had come in, they had a six minute response time – that’s from the time the call went out from the dispatch office to the time the firemen got to the scene and had the pumper trucks going. Now consider, these are all volunteer firemen who have to come from their homes to the fire station, gear up, get the engines started and get to the fire.

Ole said the folks had tried to put the fire out themselves before calling it in. If they had called it in right away instead of fooling around they may have been able to save the building, but with the delay, it was totally gone.

Apparently there was a dog kennel inside the garage with a bunch of straw bedding, which had a heat lamp extended into the kennel to keep the dog warm. They got the dog out of the kennel, but the poor thing was so terrified that it bit four firemen before they got it into the house. The garage was located about ten feet from the house. The fire was so hot that it melted the next-door neighbor’s siding.

These fellas do an outstanding job and have developed a reputation that has the second best response times for volunteer fire departments in the entire county. The number one position belongs to a town about twice the size of our little village that’s 15 miles down the road. So I don’t think we’re doing to bad at all.

Now, enter the neighbor with the melted siding. Later this morning, while the firemen were still on site picking up hoses and cleaning up other things, Neighbor is heard at the post office berating the firemen. He was telling everyone that would listen to him that it took the firemen over 20 minutes to even get any water on the fire, so he sure was glad HIS house didn’t burn down. Then he trotted across the street to the Local Watering Hole for his morning coffee and started telling his tall tales over there. Only by that time it had grown to a 30-minute response time and that there was absolutely no excuse for the firemen to be so slow. The person who heard all of this immediately called the fire chief and informed him of what was happening. Needless to say the fire chief was irate. So I guess we’ll see what happens from here.

About an hour after Ole got the call, I drove into the village to see what I could see, making sure I stayed out of the way. The strong wind was making it difficult to breathe even several blocks away from the scene, and there were so many official vehicles there I couldn’t get close enough for a look. Mid morning I drove back and managed to get a shot of the garage through the alley. Ole finally got home about 11 a.m. after helping to get everything cleaned up, tanker trucks full again, and everything set for the next “event.”

And you know, when something like this happens in this part of the country, it usually happens when the weather is at its worst.
Needless to say, I’m pretty proud of our guys – not just because Ole is part of them, but they all do a super job and are all very professional.

PS: FYI the temperature this morning at 6 a.m. was 5 below zero. At that time there was a wind of 40 MPH, which made the wind chill factor equivalent to 34 below zero. Neighbor with the melted siding should try to handle hoses spraying water at those temperatures with the wind conditions. Maybe he wouldn’t be so quick to criticize, huh?

More of Lena's Secrets

Uh-oh - I've done it now!! I've been tagged by Paula over under the Tum Tum Tree, Hi, Paula (waves hand using parade wave) and this one requires a lot of thought. And being my brain is usually a bit on the mushy side this time of year - well, you'll see. I wouldn't get an "A" on this one - I'm afraid I'd get an incomplete. So here goes:

Five Things I Just Don’t Get:
1. Why some people glory in the misery of others (Jane)
2. Why George Bush gets blamed for EVERYTHING including the weather.
3. Why people don’t RSVP when they are asked to. Don’t they understand what it means?
4. Why some folks have to stretch the truth to suit their needs (Jane)
5. Why everything I eat goes to my waistline.

Other Than Money, I Wish I Had More Of:
1. Time
2. Computer skills
3. Patience
4. An interest in cooking (I’ve burned out)
5. Energy of a 25-year old

Five Least Favorite Words or Phrases:
1. The “F” word – I absolutely hate hearing anyone use it, especially females. Show a total lack of any intelligence whatsoever
2. Use of the word "Ain’t" - UGH!!
3. "I think you should have the finest of 'whatever' you can afford." (said with sarcasm)
4. "But we've always done it that way."
5. “Mean spirited Republicans” (good one Paula. There are just as many mean spirited Democrats as Republicans. And just because we don’t want to give the farm away doesn’t mean we’re mean spirited!! So there!!)

Five Famous People I’ve Spoken With In Person:
1. Ed Schaeffer – former governor or North Dakota and currently Secretary of Agriculture (he’s famous to ME)
2. Spiderman
3. Evel Knievel
4. G. Gordon Liddy
5. Sean Hannity

Five Things I Do Nearly Daily That I Don’t Enjoy:
1. Clean the cat box (Phew)
2. Vacuum dog hair
3. Empty the dishwasher
4. Cook
5. Clean up afterwards

Five Things I Wish I Had The Chance To Do More Often:
1. Quilting
2. Crocheting
3. Sleeping
4. Travel
5. Reading

Five Favorite Movie, Television or Literary Quotes:
1. “I’m older and I have more insurance.” Evelyn Couch in Fried Green Tomatoes
2. “You’ll shoot your eye out!” Ralphie’s Mom in the Christmas Story
3. “I’ll think about that tomorrow.” Scarlet O’hara in Gone with the Wind
4. “I can’t put my arms down!” Ralphie’s brother Randy in a Christmas Story
5. "Humbug I tell you, Humbug!" Ebenezar Scrooge in the original Christmas Carol


Five Things I Have Actually Done That Sound Like Lies:
1. International smuggling (I'll have to write about that some day.)
2. Worked for the Mafia in Chicago
3. Actually kept my mouth shut and temper contained when I would have liked to have "spewed" all over someone.
4.
5.


Five People I hope Will fill This Out:
1) Lovely Daughter
2) MN Lady
3) Holly
4) Shearmadnez
5) Art

Well, there you have it Folks. Have a great day - I've got a lot of miles to cover today so had best get busy.

Love Lena

Christmas with Inga

Sarah - NO - she's innocent!

Many years ago we were visiting Big Brother over the holidays when he still lived in California. As a joke, Big Brother used to hang a pair of panty hose over his fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them. You know, they say Santa checks his list twice, and it must be true because every Christmas morning, although Big Brother’s son’s stocking was overflowing, his poor pantyhose hung sadly empty.

This particular year I took pity on him and decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those things at Wal-Mart, you know. I made my maiden voyage to an adult bookstore downtown. Whew – what an experience for a naïve Scandihoovian girl.

If you've never been in an X-rated store, don't go, at least not by yourself. You'll only get confused. The things that came out of my mouth only showed how “uneducated” I was. I was there for an hour and once I picked my jaw up off the floor I started saying things like, "What does this do? "You're kidding me!" "Who would buy that?"

Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section. All I wanted to buy was a standard, uncomplicated doll. Oh, my, what a selection there was. Finding what I wanted was difficult. Love Dolls come in many different models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do things I'd only seen in a book on animal husbandry.

So I settled for Inga. She was at the bottom of the price scale and still cost an arm and a leg. And, to call Inga a doll took a huge heap of imagination.

So Christmas Eve rolled around, and with the help of Ole and an old bicycle pump, Inga slowly sprang to life.

Long after Santa had come and gone, I filled the dangling pantyhose with Inga's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank a glass of milk on a nearby tray. Then I went to bed and giggled for a couple of hours.

The next morning Big Brother yelled up the stairway to say that Santa had been to his house and left a present that had made him VERY happy but had left the dog confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark some more.

We all agreed that Inga should remain in her panty hose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional Christmas dinner.

Grandma noticed Inga the moment she walked in the door.

"What the hell is that?" she asked.

Ole quickly explained, "It's a doll."

"Who would play with something like that?" Granny snapped.

I had several candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut (snicker).

"Where are her clothes?" Granny continued.

"Boy, that turkey sure smells nice Gran" Lovely Daughter said, to steer her into the dining room.

But Granny was relentless. "Why doesn't she have any teeth?"

Again, I could have answered, but why would I? (snort)

It was Christmas and no one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying, "Hang on Granny, hang on!"

Grandpa, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to me and said, "Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?" I told him she was Big Brother’s friend.

A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking to Inga - not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that we realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home.

The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Inga made a noise like Ole in the bathroom in the morning. Then she lurched from the panty hose, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa.

The cat screamed and clawed his way up the drapes. Ole passed cranberry sauce through his nose, and Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Big Brother fell backwards over his chair laughing so hard he almost wet his pants.

Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and sat in the car.

Later, in Big Brother’s garage, we conducted a thorough examination to decide the cause of Inga's collapse. We discovered that Inga had suffered from a hot ember to the back of her right thigh.

So much for Inga, but it was truly a Christmas to remember.

An AMAZING Discovery

Hey, all you Bloggers, I've made a most interesting discovery over the last six days. My computer went on the fritz, and without it, boy, can I accomplish a lot of stuff!! I have to admit that I've suffered terrible withdrawals. But all is right with the world now as the baby is back humming along.

So needless to say I'm way behind on my reading and I've got a lot of catching up to do. And heaven knows I won't even try to recreate all the stuff that's happened in the last six days - really nothing interesting, just busy, busy, busy.

I've got to get started on my cards and letters, and sending out some packages. I've already received cards from Bluesleepy and Art (thanks guys), and a wonderful surprise package from Miss Poolie - a beautiful bar of homemade scented soap. Thanks Poolie. It's almost too pretty to use.

I've done a ton of baking and fudge making that I'm going to pack up and send out to Big Brother in New Mexico. So I've got to get on that packing today.

And I've got my living room thoroughly cleaned so I'm ready to put up our tree, possibly tonight.

I won't bore you anymore but just thought I'd let you know that I'm still alive and well and still functioning for the most part. I'll make a better entry tomorrow, okay?

Love Lena