Bunny Island

What could stir me from my months-long sabbatical (because that sounds much better than lazy, no time excuse you were going to get) but a story about rabbits. On a recent boat tour around parts of Oslo fjord, we spied many bumps in the water with cute little names. Hovedøya (skull island), pale island (where the small children's hospice for TB was installed), Langøyene (for overnight camping on now forgotten garbage dump) and my personal favorite, bunny island (Gressholmen). Story says that decades ago, a bankrupting bunny farm came out to this small green piece of land firmly plotted in the Oslo fjord and dumped all their bunnies. Well, time goes on, and hours later the joint is packed with ears, noses, bucked teeth aplenty. Don't forget those cotton tails, either. The whole island was covered with tame bunnies so that families could come have a pet with the local population. Can't say something like that everyday. But they began to decimate the vegetation, so, well, no more bunnies one day. 

Which brings me to my main train of thought: Norwegians are really bunnies. Never in all my life have I seen human reproduction on display quite like it is here in Oslo. Could be like this all over the country, but since I prefer to keep generalizations to a minimal so as not to alienate all of Norway, I will stick with Oslo. It is befitting that the city itself begins with a large O; the pregnant woman really should stake her claim as Norsk mascot. I am sure there is some insane data that the census could support, but I don't need numbers and decimals and percentages to tell me there is a whole lot of propagating going on around here.   I can't imagine it's the bees to blame, but perhaps that is where NAV derived their milk money idea. Pass out the figurative pollen and the bunnies will go to work. Clearly I am crossing all sorts of species lines but perhpas you get the comparison. If NAV gives money, then "jeg" will do my duty to Norge by getting knocked up. 

The sheer numbers of beautiful pregnant women in skintight clothing is astounding. Just last week we were surrounded at Villa Paradiso by three pregnant women, within a 3 table radius. I walked not 20 yards when I was hit with not one, not two, but four bellies in Sandvika Storsenter. Aker Brygge had their fair share as well. 

Which brings me to the subject of the pregnant woman herself. The real glowing preggos are here in Norwegia, let me tell you. Perfect skin, shining hair and a general aura of sex and girl next door all mixed in. It's just so......fertile. It's enough to make a girl want a bolle in the oven, ikke sant?