Friday again. I’m sitting here with thoughts spinning – should we take the motorhome LVL² out this weekend, despite autumn storms, or not? I want to go. However, at the same time, I want to stay home. The season is drawing to a close. Nevertheless, there’s still time for several more trips before winter takes over.
A warm welcome to you who read my blog – malix.se. It brings me joy every time someone finds their way here and takes the time to read my words. Today, I offer a post that smells of autumn storms, tea, and motorhome thoughts.
The first storm of autumn
This motorhome weekend (if it turns out to be an LVL² weekend) might bring autumn storms and tea in the van. It has been very windy here this week – truly stormy. Even though the wind has calmed down a bit, the curtains on the porch still sway. Furthermore, the weather app says it might blow again this weekend.
When it was at its worst this Tuesday, the wind grabbed the roof of the porch, knocked over chairs, and gave me that anxious feeling in my stomach. I don’t like when nature’s forces grow so strong that I barely dare to go outside.
When you watch videos on TikTok from England – the storm is even worse there. Naturally, that doesn’t ease my worry at all. Now the wind has calmed. Still, I think the autumn storms arrived a bit early. They really could have waited a couple more weeks before dropping by.
Motorhome or cozy weekend at home?
I asked my husband what we should do this weekend. So far, I have no answer. Maybe he’s simply tired after his first workweek following the vacation. I can relate – sometimes it’s just nice to stay home.
But then the thought comes: soon the motorhome season is over for the year. Our motorhome LVL² and I aren’t quite finished with each other yet. We’re in the final stretch now. However, if the weather allows, there might still be many weekends left – perhaps even into October.
A trip to the sea would be lovely – to feel the wind, and maybe even take a swim as the waves roll in after the storm.
Tea, wool socks, and longing
Tea has always been my little everyday luxury. In the motorhome, it’s bagged tea. Nevertheless, it still tastes just as good – perhaps even better, when the cup steams in the small living space and I sit there, enjoying a cozy moment with a warm drink.
Soon we’ll be entering that season when tea, candles, and wool socks become part of everyday life. When the evenings are darker than bright and you can snuggle up with a fire in the basement and a pot of tea beside you. I almost long for that. At the same time, I want to hold on to the last bit of motorhome feeling just a little longer.
Friday feeling
So here I sit now. I want to go – I want to stay. I want to feel the wind by the sea, feel the old sea rolling – I want to sit at home with tea and glowing candles.
Lerkil in the wind
Maybe this is what life is. Longing, waiting, and the small moments of now.
We’ll see what the weekend brings. It could be motorhome LVL², or just a cozy weekend here in our little village. Perhaps the sea, perhaps home comforts. And you know what? Either way will probably be good.
Alfred is coming to visit
In a little while, little Alfred is coming to visit. He chose grandma over a day at after-school care. It warmed my heart that he wanted to come over. He’s chosen the day just the way he wants it to be. And that means a trip down to Grandpa’s stash of little candies.
When I told him Grandpa might only have cheese puffs and snus, Alfred thought that maybe Grandpa really ought to stop and buy some chocolate today.
Between the lines – my voice
I don’t always know what I want, but I know I want to feel. Sometimes it’s enough just to sit still in the in-between – between going and staying, between the wind and the tea, between dreams of the sea and the reality here at home. It’s not hesitation. Instead, it’s allowing life to be both.
I’m not in a hurry. I’m not trying to create a perfect weekend. Rather, I’m simply trying to be human – with longing, messy thoughts, and a cup of tea in my hand.
Reflection
It wasn’t the decision that mattered. Instead, it was the space before it. The breathing, the thoughts, the desire to both go and stay. That’s where life happened.
I realize that longing itself is a part of life. Waiting for something and feeling the anticipation is almost as lovely as when it actually happens.
Here comes a little Ozzy. Imagine that he got to experience this before he left for the other side. It’s so beautiful it’s almost impossible to describe – it just goes straight into the heart. It’s one of those moments you don’t just see, you feel.
What do you think?
Do you have a place you always long for in autumn?
What would you choose – a quiet weekend at home or a short motorhome trip?
Is there a song or an artist that makes you feel everything a little more, just like Ozzy does for me?
Yesterday rests in memories, and tomorrow lies ahead in the future. It’s here in the now where we experience, feel, and can actually do something. Problems waiting over there can’t be solved today – except perhaps by trying to prevent them from becoming problems in the first place.
Yesterday, I wrote about the piles that seem to come alive at home. Today is about a completely different kind of pile – the pile of ideas, thoughts, and words that are growing here on the blog. Something new is taking shape: a way of writing that gives my words more direction, and my reflections more space.
How I Want My Blog to Feel
Lately, I’ve been thinking about how I want this space to feel for you as a reader. I want it to be personal and present, but also easy to follow and enjoy. It’s about combining heart and structure – warmth with clarity.
My New Way of Writing
I’ve created a post template that lets me stay free in my writing while giving the words a clear frame. You’ll notice that my posts now:
Are easier to follow
Appear on more regular days
Have more breathing room, photos, and reflections
I’ll also be sharing short daily posts – little glimpses into my day and my writing process, sometimes giving a hint about what’s coming next.
Will You Come Along?
I hope you’ll enjoy this new chapter in my blogging journey. I’d love to hear what you think – does it feel more alive, more clear, or more inviting?
Today we’re heading out with our little LVL^2. There’s a pleasant feeling in my body – a sense of well-earned rest. Maybe it’s because the laundry baskets are empty. That doesn’t happen often. I don’t know how many loads I did yesterday, but it turned into a full laundry day. And still, we managed to fit in a swim.
Not the refreshing, cold dip I often long for. The lake at home was warm – almost body temperature. I didn’t even feel cold getting in. But the kids enjoyed it – and so did I. Even though I was in the water almost as long as they were, I still felt warm when I got out. But I also felt grateful. Swimming together is its own kind of quiet luxury. Though mostly, I just swam on my own.
Have you ever felt that? When life is overflowing with things to do, but still feels strangely empty? Maybe those small moments – a swim, an empty laundry basket – are where life happens most clearly.
Thirty kilometers in blazing sun
Later in the morning, my brother and his daughter arrived. They had biked all the way from Uddevalla – 30 kilometers in blazing sunshine. The temperature reached 27–30 degrees. I’m impressed. Also, a little worried. I would’ve passed out halfway.
But my brother has always been determined. He once biked all the way to Gothenburg. I suppose it runs in the family – because when our grandfather was young, he and his brothers used to cycle from Gothenburg to Uddevalla every weekend. They worked until 1 PM on Saturdays, then hopped on their bikes to spend Sunday with their parents. Would anyone do that today? I doubt it. These days, people train for the sake of training – not to visit their parents.
Do you think we’ve become too comfortable? Or are we just showing love in different ways today?
A pancake worth remembering
After the swim, I got the idea to make a gluten-free oven pancake. I’ve tried many times before – but it’s never really turned out right. That fluffy, firm texture has always been missing. But yesterday… it worked.
I found a recipe from Det glutenfria köket (The Gluten-Free Kitchen) and made a double batch. I left out the bacon since we were having it with ice cream. The pancake turned out exactly the way I hoped. We ate it with queen’s jam and vanilla ice cream. The kids devoured it like they’d never seen food before. And I… I just sat there, enjoying the fact that I pulled it off. It had that soft, fluffy texture – just like I remember from my mother’s kitchen.
Recipe – Gluten-Free Oven Pancake
You’ll need: – 4 eggs – 3 dl gluten-free flour mix (like Finax Red or Semper Mix) – 4 dl milk – 1 tsp psyllium husk – 1 tsp baking powder – A pinch of salt – 1 pack of bacon or smoked ham (optional)
How to make it:
Preheat oven to 220°C (428°F).
Whisk a bit more than half of the milk together with flour mix, psyllium husk, baking powder, and salt.
Add eggs one at a time while whisking.
Pour in the rest of the milk. Let the batter sit for 10 minutes.
If using bacon – dice and pre-bake it in the baking dish for 10 minutes.
Pour the batter into the dish and bake for 30–40 minutes in the center of the oven.
Serve with jam and ice cream – and a cup of coffee if you like.
Evening with cheese, crackers, and card games
Later that evening, my daughter and her partner came by. She had called earlier and asked if we could have cheese and crackers. I said yes right away. There’s something about those kinds of evenings – simple, yet deeply meaningful. We sat out on the patio playing cards until the dark slowly settled in. I wasn’t exactly a champion at the games, but I did win with my laughter – and my “fult ord”.
(Now, I don’t actually say a lot of bad words. I say “fult ord” – which literally means “bad word.” The boys at work thought that was hilarious and joked that whenever I said it, they’d mentally insert an actual swear word. But after a few months, they all started saying “fult ord” too. It became our thing.)
Have you ever felt that someone is doing something just to ease your pain? It’s beautiful – but also fragile. What happens when we realize we need to carry our own grief?
But in the middle of all that warmth and joy, a thought crept in. One I’ve been carrying for a while. I don’t want my daughter to come just because our son doesn’t. I don’t want her to feel like she needs to fill a void or be a comfort. That emptiness – that’s ours to deal with.
I’ve spoken to her about these thoughts. And I hope she comes to us because she truly wants to – not out of guilt or responsibility for something she can’t fix.
And yet… I’m so grateful that she does come. That we have these evenings. Together.
Thoughts on faith – and a question from my neighbor
Before I end, I want to share a short clip from my neighbor’s YouTube channel. She makes sweet little educational films for children – but sometimes, she speaks to us grown-ups too. Today she asks: Can we live without religion?
I don’t know. I think many people in Sweden live without God in the traditional sense. But I believe we all still believe – in something. Karma, nature, kindness, purpose. I believe goodness creates more goodness – that kind acts ripple out into the world.
Faith has always been part of humanity. People have always needed to believe in something bigger – a reason to keep going. Our ancestors had gods long before priests came. Vikings, cave dwellers, everyone had their form of belief.
As for me – I go to church once a year. On Christmas Eve. For the songs, for the peace. I wouldn’t call myself religious. But maybe I am, in my own way.
Do you need something bigger to believe in? What holds your thoughts when the world feels too large – or too empty?
Reflection
This was a day full of sun, swimming, food, family and thoughts. A day where the heat pressed down, but my heart opened. A day that tasted like pancake, smelled of sun-warmed skin – and left something to quietly ponder.
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My husband’s vacation is just around the corner, and I’m longing for it like I never have before. But before we get there, life offered a small lesson – about responsibility, boundaries, and a disassembled pen. The heat after our trip was heavy, but that wasn’t what made me sigh the most that evening.
Soon vacation – and I’m longing
Soon, soon, my husband will be on vacation again. I’m longing in a way I can’t recall feeling before. Not because we have big plans, but because the days will be unplanned again. I won’t have to carry the full load alone – we’ll be two sharing the doing. Even if all we do is just be, it’s more fun to just be together. A strange sentence, perhaps, but it’ll do.
Tiredness, heat and a detour through Torslanda
When we got back from Gothenburg yesterday, we were exhausted. The heat that hit us as we stepped out of the car was stifling. The little one headed straight to his room, and I sat for a while on the patio. Then I made my way down to the basement where it was cooler. I lay down on the couch and fell asleep. I had exerted myself more than I realized.
We made it home, though – even if we took a little detour through Torslanda. I missed the turnoff for the Lundby tunnel. One of those small mishaps that just happen. A consequence of missing the exit, which led to a few extra miles.
The white paint on the windowsill
Last night, my husband noticed some white paint on one of the windowsills, and it had dripped down the outside wall. I called in the one I suspected – since it was their room – and asked what he had poured out.
”Nothing,” he said.
I explained that it had to have been him – because the white paint had clearly come from his window, and no one else pours things out from there. I also told him that it didn’t really matter how it got there. What mattered was that it had to be cleaned – and he would be the one to clean it.
When the truth came out
Later, when I went into his room – and then over to my art pens in the living room – I saw where the paint had come from. One of my drawing pens was in his trash can, taken apart. And one was missing from my collection.
Another conversation followed – about how my art pens are just that: mine. That they’re expensive, and they’re for drawing – not for pulling apart.
I told him this would be costly. That particular pen he had taken apart costs close to 300 SEK. And if all you have is a weekly allowance… well, then it stings.
A conversation about boundaries and responsibility
We had another talk. I asked him if I had ever gone into his room and broken something that was his. Of course, he said no – because that has never happened.
I told him I expected an apology. And that I was disappointed. I probably shouldn’t have said that last part – but it slipped out. Still, I won’t just let this pass without consequence.
Maybe he won’t have to cover the full cost of the pen, but he’ll feel it. He’ll have less money than usual. He’ll also go to the store and buy the exact same pen – with his own money. Maybe I’ll chip in half.
He also had to scrub the windowsill to remove the paint, and he’ll repaint the outside wall where the color still lingers.
Consequences – not punishment
At work, we often talk about consequences. But many times, those ”consequences” resemble punishments – and that’s where I object. I don’t want to punish. I want to teach. A consequence should be connected to the action.
Like when a child spills a glass of milk – then they wipe it up. That’s not punishment, it’s a natural outcome.
What happened yesterday was exactly that: a consequence.
He took one of my pens, broke it apart – maybe out of curiosity – and tried to hide it by pouring the ink out the window. But he didn’t know how much those pens mean to me. And he didn’t know the ink would stick.
And the ink did stick. Everywhere.
It became his to handle
The ink didn’t disappear the way he thought it would. It disappeared because he cleaned it up. With rags. With patience. And maybe with a lump in his stomach.
At the same time, I wonder if the real consequence wasn’t the cleaning. Maybe it was the feeling – when the pen broke, when the ink spread and couldn’t be undone. That’s where the learning began. Maybe the unease, that little sting of worry, is what made it stick.
And had I added more – anger, raised voice, punishment – maybe all that would’ve remained was shame.
I chose to stay
Chose not to punish. I chose to show what had been broken – the pen, and my trust. But I also let him be part of the repair. Take responsibility. Try to clean up. And the learning was found there – in the doing. Not in a corner of shame. Not in harsh words.
What do you think?
How do you feel about consequences versus punishment? Have you ever been punished when you really needed understanding instead?
Share your thoughts in the comments – I read everything and always respond from the heart.
A little blog tool I use – Complianz
I had actually planned to write about a plugin I use – one that makes life easier as a blogger. But this post took a different turn. So I’m adding it here instead.
If you also want to simplify things on your blog or website, this might be useful to you. And if you buy it through my link, you’ll even get a discount – and I’ll get a small thank-you in return. Win-win, I’d say!
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