Unsubstantiated Promises

When I made the promise two Fridays ago to write another blog post that day I had a good feeling that it would never happen. However, I was hoping I might use it as motivation too actually write another post. While I am still planning on a blog post about my VO2 max experience I am going to first inform you, my readers, on the happenings of the past week.
This past week has been my fall break. It started shortly after my last posting with the night train to Oslo. The night train leaves at about when one might imagine, 12:15 from Voss. Upon boarding the train I found it was a proper night train with sleeping compartments, for 800 kroner extra. If you can find me a Bigelow that will pay that much to sleep on a bed for 5 hours then I can show you a Bigelow that is not related to my dad. Needless to say I chose the "sleeping" on the floor of the "dining" section. In a great success I listened to 94 songs on my iPod, by far a new personal record. I was then able to meet my mom, who flew over for the week, at the airport. We then spent a couple days in Oslo at my Aunt's house highlighted by a major improvement in my Fifa skills. After heading to Voss for a few days we then went to Etnedal home of those cows you may remember from my inaugural blog post. This time however my mom and I spent a couple days up at the Setta without the cows. This was great as there is no power but we were able to relax without the stresses of technology (okay, by the end of two days I really wanted to be able to access the internet on something bigger than the 3.2" screen of my phone) and I was able to read a book that will soon be the first (another rash promise I will most likely regret) too receive the honor of a Magnus Bigelow Blog Book Review (TM). I can't tell you what it is called now because that would ruin the suspense. To end my break, after wishing my mom well, I joined in on my first ever moose hunt (or any hunt for that matter, squirrel extermination not included). I joined Jens Ola with the job of utilizing a dog to drive the moose towards where the others were reading to shoot. Our troop was led by an 85 year old who has as much toughness in one pinky as (insert something that makes this metaphor resonate strongly with yourself). Sure enough, my first hunt was a success with a calf being the trophy. I was given the honor (at least I've been telling myself it is an honor) of carrying the heart up to the car. It was surprisingly heavy and I am told makes for quite a good meal. After the slaughter the true excitement for the break was over and I was soon headed back to Voss. In my final rash promise of the day I am going to imply the good possibility of a picture post from the week.