How I lost Sir Nerdalot


Sir Nerdalot is celebrating his forty-first birthday today. Or thirty-elleven. Or twenty-nine plus tax.

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Romantic – A Knight in Shining Armour… Realistic – A Nerd in Tinfoil.

Actually, I have decided that I am not going to do the lying on the age-thing any longer, especially not on Sir Nerdalot’s behalf. No, I figure that the alternative to growing older is quite counter-productive, and not really something anyone would enjoy. So my favourite Nerd is forty-one. Today. Please join me in wishing him Happy Birthday in a language he can understand:

Of course, Old Mamasan, being such a perfect little housewife, made him birthday-cupcakes to bring into work. They do that in Denmark. Well, in Norway too, for that matter.

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Everyone knows that the best way to a mans heart is through is stomach. (Although the shortest, would probably be straight through his rib-cage.)

Let us establish a fact here: Sir Nerdalot is – yup, you guessed it – a Nerd. Old Mamasan is not. Old Mamasan is Nerd-friendly. There is a diffrence. As of last week, I fear that I have taken my demonstration of Nerd-friendliness a tad too far.

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A nerd to the right, and a nerd-friendly to the left.

Here’s the thing: Everyone that shares a driveway and a mailbox with a Nerd, are accustomed to “loosing” their Nerd to endless online discussions about what rocks the most of Star Wars and Star Trek. Throw a little Tolkien and Sir Terry Pratchett into the mix, and you have it going on for weeks upon end. Evening upon evening, shooting-noises and scary monster-roars are heard emerging from the Man Cave. Periodically you loose them to fiddeling about, and painting little figurines that they use in boardgames. Not seldom has my request for Sir Nerdalot to “put away his little dolls and come up for dinner” been answered with a frustrated: “It’s not little dolls, dang nabbit! They are Tyranids and this one in particular is a Tervigon. It spawns, and nerd-nerd-nerdinerd-nerd!” (And then he puts his little dolls away and comes up for dinner.)

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Sir Nerdalot meets a Polar bear. (Sir Nerdalot to the right.)

When Sir Nerdalot and myself were young and madly in love, which we still are (young, that is), I got him the most genius Valentines-gift. I mean, we are really talking Epic giftgiving here. I named a star after him. Nope, it’s not a hoax. With bigger and better telescopes, new stars and objects out there in the galaxy are discovered every day. They don’t even bother to name them anymore, they just slap a number on them. And then – here is the genius part – you can buy the right to name one! You get a certificate, an info-package, coordinates to where it is and what time of year you can see it, and so forth. It is really, really cool. Especially for a nerd! Have a look here , if you think this is the coolest stuff, since the Harry Potter-books!

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Sir Nerdalot and the Karate Kid snowmobiling on 78 degrees North.

Sir Nerdalot was absolutely flabbergasted about this gift. Even he lost the ability to speak Nerd! As far as gifts are concerned – we are talking bullseye! The problem with that gift, is that there is no coming back from it. Ever. You have now totally ruined every future giftgiving occation for all eternity. It doesn’t matter if you are going for pricey or thoughtful – you just can not top that one. Trust me – I have tried. Superman-boxers, Minions-PJs, laptops, homemade dinners, fancy restaurant-dinners, travels, R2D2-legos. They do not even come close. Be aware of this, should you decide to name a star after your Nerd, the price you pay is never being able to top it ever again. (Also, please note that you can’t possibly wait for the last giftgiving occation either. You’re going to have to risk it!)

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Sir Nerdalot two years ago.

But. This year I actually topped it. Lo and behold! He got a telescope, so now he can actually see the star that bears his name, somewhere out there in the infinite space! He got the gift early, a week ago. He has already tried it out, every night the past week.

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Sir Nerdalot setting up to star-gaze.

Every afternoon, right after dinner, he is pacing around the room wearing a path into the hardwood floor, waiting for darkness to fall. And I realize, I have lost him for good now. There will never be a shared movie-night again.

Not even Star Wars.

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Look! TWO moons!!

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Oh, I have lost him now!

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Hvordan jeg mistet Gubbinatoren


Alle som deler postkasse med en nerd vet hva det vil si å “miste” dem til diverse tekniske dippedutter eller spill flere kvelder på rad.  Og det er jo greit nok. Jeg er vant til å miste ham til rollespill, Warhammer og hva det nå enn er han spiller på X-station og Playbox. Han kan jo også Star Wars-filmene utenat, og Tolkien-bøkene på rams. Jeg er faktisk ganske så forundret over at det ikke finnes lasersverd i huset, for han har jo The One Ring hengende i et gullkjede rundt halsen…

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Gaven kunne med fordel vært pakket inn i pent innpakningspapir, men nerder bryr seg lite om slikt.

Jeg har gjort meg skyldig i å oppmuntre til fortsatt nerdethet, både ved å si “gå og finn noen å leke med” og ved å hoste diverse spillkvelder hjemme i stua – med hjemmebakst og pizzatoast til gutta. Jeg har gjort dette fordi jeg liker at han er nerd, og jeg ønsker at han skal forbli nerd. Jeg liker at han er intelligent, morsom og belest (- og jeg har vel heller aldri følt noen tiltrekning mot bad guys)

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Tilleggsgave fra Karate Kid’n og alle husdyra; okularer og filtre

Men nå lurer jeg på om ikke jeg har tatt denne tilretteleggingen til hans nerdhet en smule langt… Jeg får vel begynne med begynnelsen:

Da vi var unge og nyforelskede – hvilket vi forsåvidt fremdeles er (unge, altså) – gav jeg Gubbinatoren tidenes mest geniale Valentines-gave. Jeg “kjøpte” en stjerne til ham. Det vil si, ute i verdensrommet, befinner det seg en stjerne som er offisielt kalt opp etter Gubbinatoren. Se denne linken for informasjon om du synes det var en god idè. Gubbinatoren satte i alle fall stor pris på det – han ble faktisk satt helt ut. Men han er jo som før nevnt en nerd, og nerder blir alldeles vill i knickersen av denslags.

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Ganske så fornøyd Gubbinator

Denne Valentinsgaven angret jeg temmelig nøyaktig ett år etter – og alle år etter det. Hvordan i all verden overgår man en slik gave? Man gjør ikke det. Konfekt og middager, slips og truser (selv Supermanntruser), legosett av R2D2 og Dødsstjernen, blekner alle i forhold til å få en stjerne oppkalt etter seg. På den andre siden, man kan jo ikke vente til den siste Valentinsdagen heller…

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Nerden synes det var gøy å “bygge” stjernekikkerten sin også

I år til bursdagen får Gubbinatoren en stjernekikkert. Han har allerede fått den litt på forskudd, og gliset kunne ikke vært bredere. Nå går han sirkler på stueparketten og venter på mørket. Og det er da det slår meg, jeg har mista ham for godt nå. Hver kveld og hver natt kommer han til å sitte ute og se på stjernene. Vi kommer aldri til å kunne se en film sammen igjen.

– Selv ikke Star Wars.

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Straks klar. Litt kalibrering må til.

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Vi fikk noen flotte syn av månen, på endel bedre hold enn her. (ja, Old Mamasan fikk også lov å kikke)

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TO halvmåner! ;-p

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Oh, I’ve lost him now…

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