Ben Svensson's Blog: My time now

I recently reached a life milestone. You know the one… that big half-century mark. For some strange reason it made me think about my health; I don’t know why but it did. I got to thinking that I could lose a few pounds and probably should eat more green, leafy vegetables.
My children would get a more active father and my wife would get a sleeker, more fit husband that she could take out on the dance floor without him asking for mercy after ten minutes. Well, at least that was the plan anyway.
So I started the healthier food. I added more greens, healthy fats and cut out most (but not all) of the fun stuff like pizza and baked goods. You need to have some fun too because we can’t forget about the mental health and my mental health would not be too good if I had to eat like a rabbit for the rest of my life. Just saying!
I promised myself that 3 days a week I would work out with weights and stretch. I also planned to add another 2,000 steps a day to my daily routine so that I could get in a healthy 12,000 steps a day. My old Fitbit had seen better days and now had more super glue than rubber holding it together. Of course my beautiful wife noticed this and bought me a brand spanking new Fitbit Charge 2 with all the bells and whistles. I mounted the very handsome device on my arm and quickly learned how to operate the gadgets and tools, and started to strut around checking my steps and calories burned. I was quite pleased with my gift. Then something strange happened; the Fitbit started to rack up a lot of flights of stairs I did not take. One day it had 164 floors and I knew for sure that I had not done more than three. I emailed Fitbit customer support and received and email telling me to reboot the device, hook it to my belt loop, run up two flights of stairs and then report my findings.
I followed the instructions and sent my report but also told them about my phantom 164 floors and that the Fitbit had added 90 floors just during my forty-five minutes on the treadmill. I added as much information about the environment around the treadmill as I could even about the fan the puffed some air on me every ten seconds as it sat mounted on the wall ten feet away. I soon received a second email telling me that this new Charge 2 was really sensitive to changes in the environment like wind gusts, opening doors and sweat. It also recommended that I wear the device loosely on my arm. This seems odd for a device meant to be worn while you are working out…doesn’t it?? The email went on to say that if the floor count was a problem for me, she recommended that I just delete that feature - a feature that my old, cheaper Fitbit handled without any problems! To top it off I also received a lecture about BMR and how it is calculated… that just took the prize.
So I guess I have to wear my $200 Fitbit loosely on my arm inside a room without opening any doors or without working up a sweat. Wonder where I can find such a room? I should probably ask the support if they know where those rooms are.
So if you don’t hear anything from me in a while…I am in that special room.

Recently, my family and I traveled down to the lush and beautiful country of Belize; with its gorgeous beaches, good food, and tasty drinkables. If you are one of those who needs to keep active while traveling then Belize has it all. There is diving, snorkeling, fishing, Maya ruins tours, zip lining, and so much more. I am more the type that likes to relax in a comfy hammock while enjoying a refreshing drink and maybe reading a book as I gather my strength for a short stroll along the beach...perhaps finding the next taste sensation at a local beachside restaurant. Ahhh…that is a perfect vacation for me. I don’t need more – just pure relaxation.

In a somewhat weak moment, I was coerced in to participating in one of these “fun” tours that I would otherwise never go on. This one was called the Monkey River tour. “Oh, it will be fun!” they said. “No long hike, you mostly ride in a boat and you’ll get to see local animals like howler monkeys, crocodiles and cute manatees…plus they will serve you some good food,” they said. “You’ll be OK as long as you bring some bug spray with ya – we promise, you’ll have a great time!” they said.

So at 6:00 AM my alarm went off (which, if you ask me, is that not a fantastic time to wake up when you’re are on vacation!) and I took a quick shower, shaved and then went off to get some breakfast. Once back in our room to get ready to go I was told, “Nah, you don’t need long pants for this tour.” Outside stood our ride and one and a half hours later we had reached the harbor. Now I thought that the harbor was at the river where we would be taking our tour…but nooo it was not! Seven people were ushered into a boat that was not meant to carry more than five. No one was handed us a life vest or even pointed to where one was and before we could protest or ask questions our guide gunned the engine and off we went! Fifteen minutes later my shorts were soaking wet from the water splashing over the sides of the small boat as we wave-hopped for 45 minutes along the ocean shore to our destination.

When the boat finally stopped we learned we were only at our first destination. Our guide pointed to a two-story orange building across a field and said, “All of you that want some lunch later or need to go the restroom now should walk over to that big orange house and take care of business.” As we passed several colorful houses (all of which were badly in need of some repair and TLC), I looked up in the sky and saw dark black clouds coming our way. “Oh don’t even tell me,” I thought to myself as I continued walking towards the orange house. Once inside I found the restroom and as I touched the door handle - it almost fell off! After a bit of a fumble, I succeeded to get in and close the door without losing the handle. After taking care of business I zipped up and turned around to leave. This time I carefully touched the handle of the door, twisted slowly and pushed, but the door would not move. Maybe I locked it by mistake, I thought. Nope…not locked. I twisted the doorknob again and pushed harder but it would not budge. “Great, I’m stuck in here!” I thought to myself. How embarrassing…the crazy Swede locked himself in the bathroom, ha ha so funny – not!. Then it hit me! Turn the handle the other way. To my relief, the door opened. I straightened up and tried to walk out as calmly as possible and with a cool voice I told the guy waiting, “watch out for that door – it’s a little bit tricky.” I hoped he had not heard me earlier when I was pulling, pushing, and scratching at the door. I didn’t see any smirks, or hear any giggling, so I think I pulled it off.

After washing my hands and ordering food we were then ushered back outside where, to my relief, our tour guide had acquired a bigger boat. We all took a seat in the boat (once again, no life vests or safety talk) and up the Monkey River we went. One of the other tour guests in the boat had a big camera around her neck and a bag filled with different sizes of lenses; a birder, great! Then there was a teenage girl from New York that apparently did not want to be on the tour. This was evidenced by every time the birder would loudly holler stop when she saw a bird, the teenage New Yorker would sigh just as loudly and counter with “Great, another bird!” Our guide did his best trying to please the gang in the boat by talking about the different plants along the river and telling us about the history of the area. I have to admit that some of the information he relayed was interesting and overall he did a pretty good job.

Without warning our tour guide pointed the boat towards the riverbank and docked and we were told it was time for us to jump out and go for a walk into the jungle. “Now would be a good time for you to spray on some bug spray,” he announced. “I sprayed myself from head-to-toe earlier,” I told him with a smile. “Spray again,” he said with a stern face and I could feel my smile getting smaller. As I started to spray myself it hit me – our guide had on jeans and a jacket. This was not the season for long pants I had been told. Uh oh! “If you see ants, don’t touch them. Also, do not touch any branches or vegetation before looking at it closely. There are many things here in the jungle that are poky and will hurt you, so just don’t touch anything and you will be OK,” our guide announced cheerily. Now my smile was totally gone. Five yards into the jungle I heard the first buzzing of a mosquito. I had on a double layer of bug spray and had more with me, so I wasn’t too worried. The guide took us to a small wooden bridge and as he was talking I saw the back of one of my fellow tour guests being attacked by over twenty mosquitos. Maybe she didn’t spray, I thought and looked down at my bare legs. Ten BIG mosquitos were poised and drilling into my legs! I quickly swept them off and wound up with blood smeared on my legs. “Oh no, not good,” I thought. As long as we were moving it was not that bad, but every time we stopped to look at the flora and fauna we were under attack. It did not matter how much spray I used, the mosquitos kept on coming back for my sweet, sweet blood over and over again.

I could no longer concentrate on what the guide had to say I was constantly swiping mosquitos. Our guide finally found some howler monkeys up in a tree so far from the ground that they looked as big ink blobs. “Great, now let’s get the heck out of here!” I thought to myself. After an hour of walking in a flower pattern around a wooden bridge that crossed over and over again, we finally left the fantastic, mosquito infested jungle and took off back down the river. Half way back to the orange house it began to rain. “It will soon stop,” the guide told us with an optimistic voice, “this is not the rainy season, it will soon be over.” We stopped along the way to allow the birder to get even more pictures and then landed at the dock outside the orange house where food would be waiting for us. I received a plate with what tasted like yesterday’s rice and beans along with a tasty, roasted chicken leg. I was also given some ‘interesting’ strawberry soda to wash it all down.

An hour later the rain had not stopped falling, but I was happy that my dear wife had had the forethought to bring rain ponchos. As we got in the boat, I offered to sit in front because I had my poncho and most of my tour members did not. My dryness lasted all of about 2 minutes. As the boat skipped along the river towards the open ocean, it was like I was sitting in a shower - the water found its way to every dry spot on your body. Thirty minutes into the wettest, most uncomfortable boat ride ever our tour guide cut the engine and said, “This is the manatee zone.” There we sat quietly as the rain came down waiting to see a manatee breach the water. The faces of my fellow tour guests became more and more sour as we sat there looking out over the water. Ten minutes later we all voted unanimously to skip the ‘manatee viewing’ portion of the tour and head back to the harbor.

Our guide raced us back to the harbor as fast he could. We were all soaked to the bone. As I took my first step up on the dock, water ran out of my shoes and so it continued to do all the way to the waiting car. “Do you want some water?” the driver asked me with a smile. “No,” I answered. “I’ve had more water than I need for a week!” After more than an hour of sitting in rain-soaked clothes on the drive back, we were once again at our fantastic hotel on the beach that I had been stupid enough to leave in the first place! We quickly threw ourselves into the hot shower, got some dry clothes on and headed to the bar. Ahh…our vacation life was back to normal.

Here is my advice to all you fun seekers out there. If you ever go on an adventure into the jungle, forget the bug spray…bring a HAZMAT suit!

On the last Sunday of Advent many of us look around and see Christmas decorations everywhere and hear Christmas music on the radio, and then it hits you - Oh NO! You haven’t bought any Christmas presents and you start to get that nervous feeling in your belly. I’m not one of those overly enthusiastic people who start shopping for Christmas presents in the middle of August and then tell everyone at Thanksgiving that “I’m already done with all of my Christmas shopping.” To all you early shoppers out there…GOOD FOR YOU! Why don’t you head off to the North Pole? Santa needs more elves like you. Just leave the rest of us procrastinators here in Lateville!
If you’re like me, I start thinking about Christmas shopping around the end of November. And by that I mean that I think to myself I will start asking my family for their lists earlier this year. As December rolls around I still feel good because I have some lists and there is still plenty of time to get my shopping done by Christmas. Then it happens! Some weird time warp envelopes me and the next thing I know there are only a few shopping days left. With a heartless swoosh the three first weeks in December just disappeared without any warning and I am left with one measly week try to find those cool, hip, fun, and extraordinary presents for family and friends. I know what you’re thingking…there’s always gift cards, right? But who wants to be the gift card guy? “Merry Christmas; I didn’t feel like trying to figure out a good gift for you so take this card and be gone now!” No, I don’t want to be THAT guy. So here I am with only 1 week left and I am typing away…wasting even more time, aarrgh! What am I doing?? I need to get out there and shop for those perfect presents. Wish me luck!

Did I get my Christmas lights up? Yes, I did! Although I have to admit that I was a little late this year; our house was one of the last houses in our little cul-de-sac to get its decorations up - besides the ones who never decorate. Once again I’m left wondering why it is that the lights I carefully put away in perfect order last Christmas are now so tangled up and why is it that so many lightbulbs are missing. Can it be that devious sock drawer creature is working a double shift to earn some extra cash before Christmas? You know who I’m talking about, right? That unseen creature who steals one sock from your drawer so that you can’t find a matching pair of socks. Sometimes this creature lives in the dryer and does his sock stealing from there. But I digress -back to the Christmas lights!
Early last Saturday morning as I was enjoying a few extra minutes in bed, I thought I heard voices outside my house - and then I heard the distinct sound of a ladder slamming against my next door neighbor’s roof. Instantly I could feel the panic growing in my belly; my new next door neighbor had just started putting up his Christmas decorations! Our houses were the last two put up lights this year and now the race was on to see who would be the LAST HOUSE. Oh the shame! Which, of course, lasts until it is time to take down the lights and then a new contest begins – but that’s a story for another day. I quickly realized that my new neighbor had now become my rival and was at that very moment working to make me the LAST house with lights. I flew up out of bed, woke up my wife as carefully as I could, and hopped into my jeans one leg at a time as I headed down the hallway towards the garage access door in the kitchen. I gazed for a moment at the coffee maker, but there was no time for coffee or breakfast. I dashed out to the garage and quickly grabbed all the Christmas light boxes. Soon I stood tangled in cables testing strands and light bulbs. Thankfully, my wife had stocked up on spare boxes and lightbulbs and I was able to get our strands ready for hanging pretty quickly. I signaled for my wife to raise the garage door and we burst out onto the driveway like two characters in an Indiana Jones movie being chased by an angry mob. A quick look at the neighbor’s house revealed that he had already finished hanging his lights on the roof and he gave us a nervous smile as he continued poking lighted candy canes down into his flower beds.
Now here is where my family shines. In a serious situation like this, when our reputation is on the line, we work as effectively as a Swiss made wrist watch (no not a cuckoo clock!). So we got down to it… ladders where raised, strands of lights where fed and hooked with ease, and I could see in the corner of my eye the desperation on my neighbor’s face as one of his candy canes would not light up. I could hear him calling for his wife as we were threading the red and white lights around the last two palm trees. I ran over to the garage and flicked on our power switch just a second before my neighbor could plug in his last set of candy canes. YES! We did it; we were not last this year either. Victory!! Now the question is, who will be the last house with their Christmas decorations up?

When I was young my family and I would walk out into the deep, dark forest of my home island a few days before the first of Advent to collect moss, small pinecones, and forest greens to decorate the Advent candle holder. My home island is not that very big, but as a kid I thought our island forest was enormously deep. In reality, you can easily walk through any ‘forest’ out on the island within 20 minutes… but anyway. It was an adventure and something we did as a family that I really enjoyed.
Today you can go to the store and buy you a bag of fake moss for a dollar or two; how boring is that! There is a tremendous difference between looking for moss in a local hardware store and looking for the real thing in a magical forest. To start with you cannot just go out in the forest and ask some forest clerk “what aisle can I find the white moss? “ Like he would say, “White moss, well that would be on the Pine aisle…number fifteen young man.” Nope, that would not happen. I’ve never seen a forest clerk anyway… maybe they do exist - maybe not. I think they might be as common as big foot and we all know how common they are! But see that is what is so fun out in nature, you are free and your fantasy grabs you and lets you be a kid again. In the store they won’t even let you start the tiniest of campfires. Not even if you swore that you had a scout badge testifying to you campfire making prowess. The probably wouldn’t they let you sit down in the middle of the store having a picnic with hot chocolate and homemade sandwiches either. Although it could be fun just to see how they would react if you did.
I think kids living in the suburbs today are being robbed of experiences like the ones I had as a kid out in the countryside. Your body has to work much more than it has to walking down aisle fifteen in some overcrowded store. The forest floor is not flat; there is no concrete or asphalt, there are no lines directing your way, no TV, no Internet to keep you entertained as you wait in line to pay for your goods. In the forest there are no people, but fresh air, animals, and silence. Sitting in the beauty and silence of a forest enjoying a cup of hot cocoa with your family is good for your soul.
I now live in California and today it is time for me to light the first Advent candle. I have to admit that the decorations around my Advent candle holder did not come from a walk in the forest. The funny thing is, even though I tried, I could not find any fake moss! Happy First of Advent to all of you out there. Don’t freak out parents, but there are only three more candles and Christmas is here.

For those of you that have been waiting impatiently for news about the outcome of the Svensson’s Thanksgiving table extravaganza…your wait is over, here it is. It was a magical night, one that will be remembered for many years to come. We did have some problems early in the day with some misbehaving spuds that had to be ejected from the theater due to unusual growths and bruising, but other than that the potato dishes delivered a rock solid performance. Both of the potato dishes came out on stage right on cue –looked great and were piping hot. The mash was sensational and the creamy au gratin outdid itself with its thin-sliced potatoes and not just two cheese layers but… ((gasp))…three layers of suave sharp cheddar. They were followed by a surprise performance of a devilish gang of deviled eggs that had some of our guests standing up and applauding da capo. But what is a good performance without some drama? The drama queen of the night was none other than the star of the show… the king of the table himself - the majestic Turkey Pavarotti. Pavarotti took his time in his well-heated dressing room before the performance began. The chef reported that he was stuffed with goodies and showered with spices and rare herbs from the moment he arrived at the kitchen dressing room. It didn’t seem to placate him though as he only asked for more time and just gave us a cold wing every time we checked in to see if he was ready to make an appearance. To keep our guests entertained we asked the flaky biscuits to delight them with their melted butter and sweet honey number. Just as they disappeared from sight, Pavarotti was finally ready to take his place on the table stage. He came out piping hot, his skin was an amazing golden brown and he did a fantastic well-rehearsed number together with all the other actors on the table. What a performance! It was truly a night to remember!
I just want to say “thank you” to all my family members for a memorable night. I love you all!

Thanksgiving is almost here and, once again, the Swede is in charge of handling the potato regiment of the Thanksgiving meal battlefield. Pealing, carving, cutting, slicing, dicing and mashing the fabulous spuds will be my treasured responsibility. I am, of course, a grandchild of one of the most famous local potato kings in my home area of Blekinge, Sweden. I spent a lot of hours in my childhood working the family potato fields. Our entire family would come together and we would plant, pull weeds, irrigate, harvest, and sort the potatoes. My fondest memories though are from when we would take a much deserved break from our labor and my parents, sister, uncles, aunties, and cousins would all sit down for a few minutes and enjoy some coffee, sandwiches and cinnamon buns. Ahh…sweet childhood memories.

Perhaps my wife understands that with all my accumulated experience with the potatoes that I am, without a doubt, the best person to handle the tubers for our feast. Or could it be that I am not trusted with star of the Thanksgiving meal, the golden succulent turkey? Whatever the reason, I will faithfully deliver potatoes au gratin and homemade mashed potatoes to our thanksgiving table again this year. Another thing on our thanksgiving table will be lingonberry jam - which, if you ask me and my kids is a must to go with the mashed potatoes. For you poor souls out there that do not know what lingonberry jam is… well, you could say it is the smaller, rounder and sweeter cousin of cranberry jam. If you ask me, it is absolutely the better of the two jams. Any well stocked IKEA store should have them if you are interested in trying them. But I have to warn you, your thanksgiving table might never be the same once you try lingonberries…cranberry jam just won’t cut it anymore.

Yard work in California is the same as yard work in Sweden, only much warmer and you have to be a more careful in California than in Sweden. Here in Cali we have some nasty bugs that can inflict harm like no other so I have to use long sleeves and gloves when I am out there working in the heat. Even nice looking palm trees have nasty needles on them here. And, if that’s not bad enough, after enough pokes your arms go numb! I used to love palm trees, but after a couple of hundred pokes, I like them a lot less now. Even a palm stump can be a pain in the neck. Last weekend I had a pretty good fight with one really stubborn palm stump. It went something like this: Ben came out fresh and was dancing around the stump and using his jab effectively. The fifth round went to the stump that with rooted strength got Ben down on his knees and Ben had to take a count to 6 and recovered just before the bell rang. After a well-deserved rest Ben came out renewed, now using his famous saw technique and shovel blows. The stump took the punishment without any problem and even though it was leaning hard in the seventh round it was still standing. Round eight went to Ben who, with some well-placed shovel blows, got the stump down on its back and roots up in the air. As the tree stump was carried away Ben raised his hands up in the air. Victory sweet victory!