The return of the cheese-doodle-monster

My dear Marc Jacobs slingbacks. Second pair of wedding shoes. These are the ones I used during the reception - before the ceremony. I was actually planning on wearing some insanely high-heeled Jimmy Choo sandals yesterday. A huge benefit of having a party in your own home is that you can just kick off your shoes and change to some that are more comfortable when it gets too painful. Fortunately, I changed my mind at the very last minute, as I was afraid I might break my legs wearing them.

You know it has been quite a night when:

• You find the morning paper next to your bed. The one you picked up outside your door when sending off the last guests in the morning. 
• Kitchen smells like it has been marinated in Red Bull.
• Breakfast consists of 2 Alka-Seltzer. 
• Guests start calling you when they realize that they - for quite obvious reasons - managed to get home wearing the wrong jacket.
• Renting 6 DVDs to watch back-to-back makes perfectly sense. Even when you realize that 2 of them contain a whole season of a TV series. Each.
• You develop a somewhat unhealthy relationship with your sofa.
• Shopping for birthday present for dear husband is a nightmare. Even though you normally love shopping, especially for gifts.
• Your 37 year old teddy bear (with the name Colargol*) is really all the company you need.

Fortunately my wonderful party guests were nice enough to help with a lot of the tidying up before they left, so it took me just half an hour to get the house looking all civilized again. Not bad! And - to further prove that they are indeed the perfect house guests, they did not finish the big bowl of Cheez Doodles**, leaving them for me to stuff my face with. I am a bit particular when it comes to these, as I actually think they taste even better when they have been sitting in a bowl to dry overnight. Well. It does not really help to down a whole bowl of these when you are feeling a bit queasy to start with.

Bye now. Got a date with Colin Firth for the next hour-and-half.

* http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colargol

** http://sverigeonline.se/product_info.php/products_id/113/language/en

Diggi-loo Diggi-ley

Golden sneakers/trainers. Adidas. They do have a bit of the same effect on my mood as wearing RED shoes. Or PINK. Or - in fact - when I come to think of it - ANY shoes. They can really save my day. Purchased in Kiel, Germany. Easter of the year when my dear husband broke his ankle - and we could not go skiing. Do not remember which year that was, but I bet he does. Instead of our usual week at my in-laws' cabin, we went on a so-called CRUISE (right!) with Color Line. From Oslo to Kiel. And back. I hope he never breaks his ankle again. Don´t get me wrong, I am not one of those snobs that are to good for a ferry trip to a neighboring country during which you get totally pissed and buy a lot of tax-free stuff. No! Just do. Not. Call. It. A. Cruise.

Today´s header might not make much sense if you are:

• Born during the 90s (do people that young READ already?)
• Non-Scandinavian
• Not into the Eurovision Song Contest
• Have a conveniently selective memory, making you able to forget embarrassing parts of you past

Does not really matter. To cut it short, it is a song about some guy showing off his golden shoes*/**. So I figured it was the perfect header. Got it? You are so clever. Sometimes you make me SO proud.

Having a party tomorrow. Some might find this a bit strange after this somewhat heavy week. But it was all planned a while back, and I really need some normality in my life right now to keep myself afloat. My adorable husband has a date with 22 guys in shorts at Emirates Stadium this weekend, so I figured I deserved to have some fun as well. And I do LOVE having parties at our house. (Except the tidying-up after, but the people coming tomorrow are all well-behaved business intelligence geeks. Like me. So in this particular case, this won´t be a problem.)

I can spend weeks preparing a party. I guess the reason I enjoy it so much is that I never get stressed about it. I start off by writing a very detailed "to do list" well in advance, and then I just complete one little task every day. So on the actual day, everything is ready. Except me - that is. For some reason, I always tend to be on my way out of the shower / putting on make-up - when the guests arrive. Maybe I have this hidden desire for people to see me wearing just a towel. Or without make-up. Beats me. Anyway, I am very much looking forward to it. The champagne buckets (!) are all ready (although we are having just prosecco - due to austerity measures). Just need to pick up the ice cubes tomorrow (last task on list!).

And - select the right shoes.

* http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herreys
** http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UTFec_mrD-c

PS. If you were stupid enough to watch the YouTube clip above, this song will stick to your brain for DAYS. Moahahahaaa.

Somewhere over the rainbow

My Valsport sneakers. These have never really recovered after the A-ha concert in Frogner Park back in 2005. Huge gig with 120 000 people, and - as always - far too few toilets. As a consequence, these have stamped through quite a few of the bushes and hedges in that park, without going into further detail.

Things do not always turn out the way you hope they will. But - then again - that might give way to other opportunities. In our case - we are now back to plan A. A for adoption. We have been talking about this since we initially decided to join the "parent mafia", but the possibility of having to wait for FIVE LONG YEARS (China was our initial choice) just got to me. So, we decided to give IVF a try, as we hoped to get results faster. Well. Today, that hope was crushed. Faster - yes. Results - no.

According to well-known financial investment theory, you should never put all your eggs in one basket. Well, that´s fine. That requires you have any eggs to start with, doesn´t it? Stupid book! Ok. I may not have the best ovaries in town, but I sure am good at paperwork. Just watch me. I will set a new world record in "how-fast-can-you-put-your-adoption-application-together". Although, right now, I wish I was Madonna. Or - Angelina Jolie (I am not referring to the adorable Mr. Pitt here). The whole process just seems to go bit smoother if you happen to be a star.

Things are pretty shitty at the moment, but I simply refuse to let this bring me down. I do not have a lot of other things to complain about in my life, so I will be ok. Things are just going to take a while longer, that´s it. And with my patience, that will be a blast. Ha. Ha.

Just a little warning. The next person I hear complaining about having to deliver or pick up their offspring in kindergarten - WILL get a punch in the face. Seriously. I do not want your pity concerning my situation, and you sure as hell are not getting mine. Just shut up, will you?

Somewhere over the rainbow*, way up high 
There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby 
Somewhere over that rainbow, skies are blue 
And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true 

Someday I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me 
Where troubles melt like lemon drops high above the chimney tops 
That's where you'll find me 

Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly 
Birds fly over that rainbow 
Why, oh, why can't I? 
If happy little bluebirds fly above the rainbow 
Why, oh, why can't I? 

* http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Over_the_Rainbow

....'s got a brand new bag

I am actually keeping track of the shoes I have now used since starting this project (please refer to the link under the header "my objective"), and today I have reached my 50th pair! Still there is plenty to choose from, but I am now starting to see that I might actually be able to complete this task within my self-imposed one-year-deadline.

Although I am in no way ranking my shoes here - I figured that the 50th pair should be special. Like my Chie Mihara slingbacks, above. I had a few other good candidates that are a bit more on the glam side, but at this time of year, those do not allow a lot of walking (outside). Since husband says there is NO WAY (strict now, is he?) we are taking a cab going to dinner tonight, I decided to go for quirky instead of glam.

We are celebrating Christmas again today. Going to a well-known local brown pub/restaurant for a somewhat premature Christmas dinner. "Lutefisk" (untranslatable - dried cod treated with lye - a real delicacy - to some) and "Pinnekjøtt" (="stick-meat"(?), über-salty pieces of sheep steamed over some sticks or something). These dishes are normally accompanied by beer and aquavit. I - however - prefer champagne with my sheep. Or - a nice Montrachet with the cod, on the very rare occasions I do eat that. Today the champagne will - of course - be replaced by sparkling water (or maybe they do have "Julebrus?"), but I guess I will have to get used to that - somehow.

Could not believe my luck when I found this incredible handbag today. Beautiful, isn´t it? Particularly that tag implying it was FIFTY PERCENT OFF! I was really just browsing the women´s department while the love of my life picked up his new tweed jacket after some alterations. Of course, the bag was far too expensive. Even at 50%. Luckily, my house version of Santa Claus is starting to get into his Christmas spirits, so he decided that I deserved to treat myself. Again. All-in-all, I sure am one lucky woman.

We finally managed to get some of our art back up on the walls today. About time, after a year without it. Thing is - we have this huge Christmas party (Lutefisk and the works) coming up in December (tradition), and we try to use that as a bit of an excuse to get things done around here. Since I am also having a small (is 24 people considered "small"?) party for my department at work on Friday, I figured we could just as well get as much as possible done this weekend. The sooner, the better. After all, it really is time to put away the barbecue and summer clothes in the attic again. 

I hate-hate-hate (!) winter. The only good things about winter are:

• Skiing (downhill, although no good at it, too scared)
• Christmas
• Cuddling under a woolen blanket (which is really a year-round type of activity)
• Being able to wear my fur coat (I know that is such a not politically correct thing to say)

In my next life I hope to be re-born a she-bear. Imagine eating all autumn to get as fat as possible. Then you hibernate for months (I love sleeping). When you wake up in the spring, you are skinny again. And you have all the he-bears running after you (even fighting over you), because they want to have sex.  Amazing. Talk about living a perfect life.

The final shot

These are from Marina Rinaldi. Love the fact that my favorite clothing brand came up with the idea to make boots that matched their clothes. Size wise. They are not particularly elegant, but work really well on days when I want to wear a dress to work, but without suffering in heels. Bought them in Barcelona on my way home from a cruise, summer 2005.

Today I was going to write about the first snowfall. Which happened during the night. A happy-happy-story about how all the local polar bears came out roaming the streets celebrating the first day of winter. But then something came up, and my day did not quite turn out as planned.

Time for my third visit to the fertility clinic - this week. And - did they have news for me! All the pharmacies in Norway AND Sweden (!) are now completely out of this stuff that I use for my daily 10-PM-shot. AND the replacement brand that they normally carry is gone too. Short. Empty. Sold out. Finito. Schluss.

Meaning that all the needlework I have meticulously carried out over the last week or so, would be for nothing. Without THAT VERY LAST SHOT of this particular liquid I would have to call the whole thing off. And do the whole thing again in January. Next year. Tik. Tok. Tik-tok. That would be my biological clock ticking. Even faster.

It may not come as a huge surprise that these news did not go down really well with yours truly. After injecting hormones for a week I am close enough to the edge as is. There were tears. And some words I will not repeat, in case people under 18 are reading this. Of course, it is NOBODY´s fault. Right. If I had met Mr. Nobody right then, he would have been in trouble. BIG trouble. You simply do NOT f*** around with a woman in my current state.

Anyway, coming to my senses, I tell the doctor that I am ready to fly ANYWHERE within Europe - immediately - to get hold of this one injection in time, so that I can continue my treatment. Being this close to my goal, I am not giving up due to stupid logistical challenges!

This doctor has worked with hormonally disturbed women in more than thirty years, so I guess he has seen and heard quite a bit. But - he actually took me seriously. Good for him. I am an extremely stubborn girl. Sometimes a bit too much, as I never seem to take "no" for an answer. Which FOR ONCE turned out to be a good thing.

I stopped by the pharmacy, still in tears, to try to get some contact information for some well-stocked pharmacies in Denmark. They started making some calls. Only to find out that YES (!), there was actually a clinic in Oslo (!) that had ONE single shot left of my medication. Wheew! I did not know that the distance between heaven and hell was that short. Scared the living daylights out of the cleaning lady when suddenly bursting into apartment to pick up my prescriptions.

So. Exiting times. Maybe a bit too exciting for my taste, but hopefully this will all be worth it in the end.

Just for the record, if we are lucky enough to really have a child after this whole ordeal, there will have to be consequences. First of all, poor thing, you are now officially grounded. Until well into your teenage years. Secondly, all your weekly allowances for the first six or seven years are withdrawn. It has all been spent on these insanely expensive medications, so forget about buying your own Lego for a while. This is all for putting your possible future mum through so much trouble.

Feliz Navidad

I am completely aware of the fact that the calendar tells us that is is still just OCTOBER. But - my inner child just loves Christmas. And - a very important part of my Christmas celebration is the "Julebrus". This is a very special kind of soda that is produced just for Christmas. All parts of Norway have their own local brand. I am, however, lucky enough to come from the part of Norway that has THE BEST Julebrus. Today I stopped by the grocery store to buy some asparagus (!), and - BEHOLD - there was a whole pallet of my hometown JULEBRUS. Right in front of me!

I take it the shop assistant thought I had lost it. Right there on the spot. Literally jumping with joy, and taking a photo of her soda. Which I sent to my dear Dad by MMS immediately, as the annual Julebrus launch is a very big thing for me. Most grown-ups are more interested in the Juleøl (beer) launch. I don´t care too much about that. On Christmas Eve, I drink Julebrus with my dinner. And not the very strong Juleøl mixed with the fatal aquavit. (I have learnt my lesson with aquavit. I never remember having the second glass, so then I figure that there is not really a big point in me drinking it.)

I know it is early, but I think this calls for a small celebration. In combination with my Julebrus, I prepared a peculiar little snack we call a "læfsbuss". Which is a kind of potato tortilla. Filled with just about any sort of meat. The most "Christmassy" filling is, however, the "Sylte", and some strong mustard. Sylte is a kind of pressed ham that people used to make out of the yucky bits left over from when they slaughtered a pig for Christmas. Today it is made of normal pork meat (with just a few yucky bits thrown in for texture/taste). Yum.

I have now finished my first bottle of the magnificent Julebrus - with two pieces of Læfsbuss, and the conclusion is - I am still a child. The first Christmas I celebrated with my in-laws, I sent a huge box containing 12 bottles of my Julebrus IN THE MAIL to my father-in-law. Just in case. For me it simply would not be Christmas without it. Even the smell of it is special!

Which brings me to this huge dilemma I have. We are celebrating Christmas in the Caribbean this year. Of, course, I really look forward to that.  But I doubt that I will be able to get my hands on any of my dear-old Julebrus over there. And I am not sure that I trust the American customs officers to leave my bottles alone if I fill up my suitcase with them either. They might find them suspicious. So, what should I do?

I am considering contacting the cruise line. Maybe I will be able to ship some to them in advance. The second option is splitting one bottle into three 100 ml bottles and carrying it together with my hand luggage toiletries. I am truly desperate here. It just won´t be Christmas without it.

Delirious

Converse All-Stars. The perfect shoe for any gig. EXCEPT when you go to Bergen (the rainy capital of Norway). I was, as usual, wearing a pair of long, bootcut jeans (do so NOT have the body for any other type of jeans, just ask my dress-sense-goddesses - Trinny and Susannah*). In a city where it POURS constantly, you should NEVER wear trousers that swipe the ground. EVER. I was soaked up to my knees just by standing in the rain for 20 minutes. Including stupid, stupid shoes. Shit.

So - back to Bergen. The city where I spent my student years. And - traveling all by myself. I am such a sad person, a real looser, I know. But - I figured - if I could travel to Oslo at fifteen (22 years ago!) to see Prince in concert without my parents, I should be able to cope on a Monday night alone in Bergen at my current age.

It all felt a bit like living my life backwards. First person I bump into at the gate upon arrival? My last ex-boyfriend. From 19 years back. (My next boyfriend happened to be THE ONE, "the-one-that-did-not-manage-to-get-away" a. k. a. my dear husband.) Of course, I looked like shit, after sleeping on the plane. A word of advice: You should ALWAYS look your best when you run into an ex. At least the ones that dumped you. So they can see what they are missing out on. Bummer.

Anyway. It was actually nice to be back in Bergen. Even better - now that I did not have to stay in my old dorm! And I do travel with much better luggage these days.

Left early to get to the concert venue, after shooting up two out of my now three daily doses of hormones. Got two new types to add to the cocktail today, just HI-LA-RI-OUS. The last one even goes in my thigh. Ouch!

At eight-thirty, I continued my time travel. When Prince finally entered the stage - I was fifteen again. And it felt great. There he was! Just five-or-so meters away! Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Oh-my-God-oh-my-God-oh-my-God! Suddenly it did no longer matter that I had paid an arm and a leg to be there. Meaning TWO tickets to the "Golden Circle", one bought my a mistake, as the default order at Ticketmaster is TWO. They apparently ASSUME that all their customers have friends - stupid! The concert never sold out, so I did not manage to sell the extra ticket. Even at half price. Well, whatever.

He looked a bit anxious when entering the stage. I am not sure what he was expecting. I guess it was not exactly the grandest concert arena he had played. But after he had the whole crowd jumping/waving/clapping on his second number, his sly smile - and that dangerous look in his eyes - were back. Just like in the old days. And, he delivered a great list of his top songs, mixed with some really funky covers. Standing still was impossible. I even joined in on his "bird" dance. Yikes! I waited for my favorite song - "If I was your girlfriend" - in vain, but when he rounded it all off by getting back on stage after his second round of encores, with a beautiful version of "Sometimes it snows in April", I forgave him on the spot. Wow!

By the way, when I grow up, I want to be Sheila E. Please?

Must. Sleep. Now. Have a really early flight back to Oslo tomorrow morning, as I could not take any time off from work.

PS. To continue my travel back in time - at the airport on my way back - I bumped into the first friend I made when I moved to Bergen. What are the odds of that? I think I should buy a lotto ticket this week.

* http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trinny_and_Susannah

Let´s go crazy

Crocs. Oh please! Admit it! You have them, too. I guess my shoe closet sort of reflects my personality. I think I will try to categorize all the pictures when I am done with this project in the summer. I will set up this really cool pie chart that will summarize "the essence" of who I am - in shoe terms. So, I might be a 1% Crocs girl (most probably less than that). If it is any comfort, I bought these in Rio de Janeiro. And they are the gold version. So - maybe they are a slight bit glam after all. If Crocs can ever be glam.

Started this really entertaining daily hormone injection procedure on Thursday. I feel a bit like a junkie. This time around I got this terrible kit including four bottles, two needles and a syringe. I think it is just the spoon, lighter and rubber band that is missing! The good thing is that the whole procedure of mixing all of this stuff together requires so much attention to detail  - that I almost forget to worry about the whole "giving-myself-an-injection-in-the-stomach-is-going-to-bloody-hurt" thing. Which I guess is good. What I do not like is that I am in fact injecting other women´s ovulation hormones - hormones that have (in some mysterious way) been extracted from their PEE. My god. That really is something. So - this better work.

In addition to this fun procedure, we have the very interesting side effects. My personality is changing. Maybe for the better, I don´t know.

Yesterday I just wanted to sleep (well, maybe not such a big change there). But - in the evening I went to this party with my handball team, but went home before ten PM. Never happened before.

Today I suddenly turned into the "Energizer Bunny"* (or Duracell as we have here in Norway). This rabbit has been running around our apartment all day, getting things done that I should have done a year ago - or more. Suddenly I am this "Domestic Goddess". What is that all about? This is weird. I wonder who I will be tomorrow?

Well. At least I know WHERE I will be. Going to Bergen tomorrow night, to see one of the great heroes of my teenage years - Prince. I have been saying for years that I would be willing to travel quite a bit to see him in concert again. And - I am a woman that stick to her words.

* http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Energizer_Bunny

Groundhog day (the movie)

Time for handball practice. Which requires special shoes, of course. Since my back has not been so cooperative this last month, today is my first practice this season. If Monday´s session at the gym was painful, this will be worse. I am a goal keeper. A fact that I guess will confirm, once again, that I am partly insane. Who would voluntarily try to get hit by a ball?! I started playing when I was ten. After two years I was asked to be a goalie. Simply because I have never been one to run very fast.

When I got to business school, I just quit. To make it to the school team you had to be either a really good player (not me), be one of the "popular girls" that could attract a crowd (yeah, right!) - or have a rich dad (I have the world´s best dad, but that did not count). So, I gave up. Tried playing for a local team for a while, but most of the players were more focused on being able to smoke as many cigarettes as possible during the break. And instead of warming up beforehand, they spent the time shaving their legs.

Eleven years after - I picked it up again. Now I am an Old Girl. Officially. Playing with a great bunch of other officially Old Girls. We even win a match from time to time.

Being repeatedly hit by a ball will be the perfect end to this perfect day. You will not believe how painful it is when you haven´t been hit by a ball in months. It takes a while to get used to it again. That´s the trick. But after a day like this it really does not matter. You see, I have been in public transportation hell.

Started off nicely by missing the bus by ten meters at a quarter to seven - IN THE MORNING. Breakfast with close friend at a forbidden carb-ridden place (bakery!). I gave in and had a cinnamon roll. Sorry.

Then I managed to get on THE WRONG BUS on the way from breakfast to client. You know that weird feeling you get when the bus suddenly turns in a place it was not supposed to? Hate that.

You think this was the end of it? Ha. Think again. Got on the tram to get to christmas party planning meeting after work. Pushed the button for tram to stop, but it did not. Until the NEXT STOP, that is. Which was miles away (not literally, but in today´s work shoes it was). SEVEN minutes to wait for the return one. Because, I just missed that one too.

In the end it felt like I was in a movie. Where things just happened to repeat itself. Again and again. 

You can all come out now, I know that I am on candid camera.

Les chaussures, j´adore ca!

From May 2006, I think. My first, but now one of quite a few pairs from Pedro Garcia. Window shopping in Rue de Rennes, Paris, suddenly turned into REAL shopping. Fell in love instantly. They are half-a-size too small, but simply worth cramming my toes into. The skull with the Swarovski crystals , "ah, j´adore ca"!

And - they remind me of this great trip to Paris with a close friend. (That is what souvenir shoes are for - memories!) Champagne and macaroons at Ladurée*. Lunch at Brasserie Lipp in St. Germain, being served by the world´s rudest waiters. And - more champagne (in a paper bag - we are very clever) on the TGV down to Lyon, for a work conference. I think I really should to go to Paris to practice my newly acquired French skills. Sometime soon. Only - SAS is opening a direct flight to NY again. Tempting. Oh, the decisions.

Wednesday = French class again. We are now approaching the end of level ZERO. We are at the stage where we need to start adding some gesticulation and all the "oh"-ing and "ah"-ing ("la-la-la" is level 1). This whole spectacle is to make the little French we speak a bit more credible, and steal the attention away from bad grammar.

This does not come very naturally for a person with my background. The part of Norway that I originally come from is not really known for outbursts of emotion, to put it that way. Just listen to our Minister of Finance**, that will give you an idea. As you can see, this was a tough evening for me. That is - until the teacher wrote "Le champagne brut, j´adore ca!! J´aime ca!!" on her whiteboard. When asked to pronounce THAT with gusto, I had no problems whatsoever. So I guess the things you say in this manner must truly come from the heart.

We were, of course, also taught how to respond to things we did NOT fancy. I was not really impressed when the chef (?) exclaimed that he HATES olives. Give me a break! Olives?! Really sophisticated taste buds for a gourmet chef then. NOT. It makes me wonder whether this guy is actually more of a burger "chef". At McD´s, maybe?

To be honest, I haven´t really had as much time available for my studies as I had hoped. So - I asked the teacher yesterday if it maybe could be a good idea for me to do level zero again, before continuing to level 1. Should NOT have done that. It was like opening a box of very angry wasps. So, now I know what the French think of the Norwegian school system. And the (lack of) learning habits we acquire through that. We are lazy, you see. Wow. Sorry. Wonder why the French speak other languages - like "iiiiiingliiiiish" so badly then.

Was happy to get an e-mail from the NY office of our concierge service telling me that my Tory Burch shoes have now been reserved at the store, and that they are now just figuring out how big my discount should be (when you buy shoes in bulk, you get a discount). I must book a pedicure, so that my feet look their very best when the new members of my shoe family arrives. I am all butterflies, when I think of them. Oh. Ah.

* http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ladurée
** http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=neSZaUxc1Og&feature=related ***
*** I tried linking to a clip there where he speaks English, but he came out so differently in another language. Quite professional, in a way.

Endorphinmachine

I know that I bought these in London once. I do not remember why. For a person that works out as little as I do, I have far too many pairs of trainers. And - most of them being Nike Shox of some kind. Because they feel a bit like walking in heels (that is why you may catch me giggling when I see men wearing the same, tiiihi).

Oh, the PAIN! And - when we are talking about PAIN today, it is NOT the delicious mouth-watering French kind of "pain". Oh, no. We are talking about THE GYM. My visit was long overdue. I have been so full of excuses, you would not believe it:

• Work
• More work
• Going on holiday soon
• Just came back from holiday
• Feel like eating out
• Just ate out
• Had a glass of wine with dinner
• Laundry (because I can not leave the machine on)
• Missed the tram on my way home and had to go shopping while waiting for the next one
• Other housework (counting toothpicks, removing the used matches from our matchboxes)
• Travelling (had to pack)
• Travelling (need to unpack)
• Reading (just finish my book)
• Something interesting on TV (even though I could record it)
• Just bought a magazine
• Having a barbecue - before it gets dark
• My workout clothes were all on the top shelf of my wardrobe, and I could not reach them*
• Headache
• Backache
• The sofa needs me
• Husband has headache (need to keep him company)
• Husband has backache (need to give him a massage or keep him company)
• Too hungry
• Too tired
• Grumpy
• Too happy, cannot ruing day by going to gym
• Afraid of bumping into anybody I might know (although I do not know anybody other than my husband at this place, and he has surely seen me in far more embarrassing situations than that)

Of course, I have had a very guilty conscience. But I am used to that. Being a girl, I feel guilty about everything. By nature. So that is simply not enough to make me choose to sweat - voluntarily.

Then all of a sudden I got some true inspiration this morning. I looked at myself in the mirror. And - I could actually see a hint of my collar bone again! Yay! So there is HOPE ("in hanging snore"**, as some people say). I have been on a high all day after that. I actually ran two miles on the treadmill. Well, jogged. But still. Must not overdo it to begin with, you know.

* On that top shelf of my wardrobe I even discovered my long-lost Juicy Couture velour loungewear/tracksuit. In which I am very soon to be embracing the couch.

** http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nils_Arne_Eggen

Couch potato

The only pair of Uggs I have ever owned. I never had a thing for those boots. Picked these up yesterday, after being through quite a dry spell on the shoe front lately. I just do not find anything that I like these days. That is - until today.

Sunday. Shops are closed. Boring. Have had the pleasure of walking around in a bathrobe with bedhair most of the day. A bit like the Playboy Mansion. Except - with Hugh Hefner being totally into his iPad. While the only playmate around was reading yesterday´s FT - while trying to work up the motivation to set up some tax reporting metadata. A real party. Watched all the recorded TV shows on our PVR (similar to the Tivo). What-to-do, what-to-do? After sorting out my underwear drawer and doing some laundry, I did not really feel like unpacking the last two boxes left after our apartment renovation last year. They have now been stuck in our guest bedroom for about a year. I guess I should throw it all away. After all, there are no shoes in there. Or?

Some serious web-shoe-shopping can save any day. The official damage was three pairs. Of course, my husband knows that is not entirely true. I tend to round most numbers down. When I talk about shopping, a price of 2999 easily comes down to 2000. So, who knows. At least, I am now well-stocked with those lovely Tory Burch sandals for our upcoming Christmas holiday. Can´t wait. In 67 days I will be on a plane to San Juan.

Right now I am enjoying the sunset from our dining room window (the photos are taken from the balcony outside). Stunning. And - as always - I am wondering about that cute little tower. Is that where they kept the local virgin in the olden days?

Beautiful Day

Geox with a Gucci influence. Not really nice to be stealing the Gucci horsebit design, is it? I was not really aware of it until this summer, but some people HATE white shoes. This summer I attended this wedding where this was one of the head topics of the maid of honor´s speech (might be perceived as a slight bit shallow). After that I have only worn these twice, as I do not like to offend people. On the first occasion I managed to bump into the bride from that wedding. Of course! Still, I figured I would give them a second chance. The shoes, that is.

Although I grew up in the countryside, I do love living in the city. Our bedroom faces a huge backyard, and this can be quite interesting. A bit like listening to the radio, you never know what you will get. Sometimes you get a bit too much information about your neighbours ("Whoooo´s your daaaaaddy?"), but mostly it is really quite nice. This morning we were woken up by this guy singing/playing "Beautiful Day" (U2) on his guitar. I wish I could get that kind of wake-up-call every morning.

Not being in a hurry, I poured a bath for me and my stock-broker-ducky (isn´t he awfully cute? kinda reminds me of someone). Went for the "Grumpy Cow" bath oil from Cowshed. (I save my "Horny Cow" oil for special occasions.) I have always been truly fascinated by cows and anything cow-related. Partly listening to the radio, and almost dozing off. Sooooo nice and relaxing. Zzzzzzz. Then I was caught completely off-guard by the radio. "Welcome to the jungle" (Guns ´n´ Roses). Great song, but there IS something called TIMING.

Asian lunch with husband at Nodee. Dim Sum and my favorite dish - Crispy Duck. Afterwards I suddenly remembered that it is lobster season in Norway now, so we should have eaten somewhere entirely different, so I guess we will have to do the lobster/champagne deal next weekend instead. Bummer. Even though we were both quite full after the duck extravaganza, we managed to stop by the cheese place again*. Dangerous! Husband tried to order 100 grams of Pata Negra, but a Freudian slip made that come out as 200. Yum.

I strongly felt like doing some shopping, so we picked up FT for my husband, before I left him in a nearby cafe. I found three new items for my Christmas holiday. And a new pair of Ugg slippers that I have been coveting for a while. When I got back, husband had - as usual - managed to MYSTERIOUSLY loose the "How to spend it" section of FT. Again. This is one of my favorite reads. But he keeps hiding it from me! Not that I do not know how to spend money (my husband says that if I was a country, I would be GREECE!), I just like to browse through it - to make sure there is not something good in there that I need, but that I was not aware existed.

* http://dayinshoes.blogspot.com/2010/09/say-cheeeeeese.html

Hunting (high and low?)

Converse. "Souvenir" shoes from last year´s trip to San Francisco. Got the same in the classic red. Really do not know what the deal was with these pink ones (except being PINK). Comfortable, cool-looking (according to my husband - TOO COOL for me), and you can throw them in the laundry - and then they are new (reborn!) again. Very eco-friendly, actually.

The last couple of weeks have been strange. You try to call people - but nobody is in the office. Meeting invitation? You only get "out of office" replies. Important project milestone? Sorry, that will have to wait. Apparently, there are more important matters to tend to. Seems as if the whole country is actually standing still at the moment. It´s time for the yearly all-important MOOSE HUNT.

Hunting is apparently what separates boys from men. Imagine the guys sitting around in the woods, getting drunk. With a backpack and a pair of "pipes", as some guys like to call their guns. This is the only week when they can (finally) get a break from their wives - in this respect fondly (?) referred to as "the dragon" - with no questions asked. I guess some of these guys would actually rather go on a real bender in Ibiza for a week, but I do not think that would be socially acceptable to the same degree. Oh, no! Much better to go for a week without a shower. And share a tent with some other sweaty guys. Yay! And, of course, there has to be some serious killing involved, otherwise it would be just for fun. We can´t have that, can we?

Of course, the hunters bring home food for the whole family (at least that is the intention) after their adventure. Talk about being a REAL breadwinner! I mean, how would we SURVIVE without these brave men sacrificing their time to get the meat for the rest of us?

Well. Today I decided to go hunting as well. Donned my cute (weeeell, size 41 is maybe not CUTE)  shoes shown above. GREAT hunting shoes! And I was lucky. My hunt did not last that long. I found my piece of meat almost instantly. There was fresh moose sirloin in the meat counter at the very first grocery store I stopped by. AND fresh Brussels sprouts. Yum!

So now we have had moose for dinner. And we will have for at least four more days. A piece of advice: NEVER go shopping for huge animals when you are hungry.

PS. Thanks to the guys out in the woods. Excellent meat!

Goosebumps galore

I am almost speechless. Well, just almost. What a night! We started off with an extensive tapas massacre at San Leandro. If you need any hints on how to wolf down 12 tapas dishes between two people in about 40 minutes, you are indeed welcome to come by our house for dinner. Any time. When we are hungry, we eat. Simple as that. And I love their food.

Time for charity event at Oslo Concert Hall. Starring A-ha. Which was the third time I saw them over the last 12 months. (But not last, oh no!) The invitation announced that they would be playing their very first album "Hunting high and low" - unplugged. Which made me a bit curious as to what Mags would be doing on stage. Without his synthesizer he would be a bit - sort of - NAKED? (Oh, I wish!)

Well, it turned out the invitation was not really that accurate. What we got was A-ha - WITH the Oslo Philharmonic Orchestra. Acoustic? Well, not really. Only - a lot better! From the first sound of "Take on me" I was in heaven. With complimentary goose bumps. Wow! Apparently some people were even worse off than me. The woman in the seat behind me was screaming like an animal between each song (good thing she managed to shut up during the songs). I think she might have had "a little accident" in her seat there.

It was all perfect. The sound was great. Morten looked his best as always, I guess all that eco-food and all of those colonic washouts are paying off. Good for him. And genius Paal stood there looking like our old Norwegian childrens TV hero "Titten Tei"* with a tiny smile on his face ("Oh, finally. A philharmonic orchestra playing MY songs. Way cool, huh?"). And then my favorite - Mags. In a really great suit. I normally have a thing for the base player of any band (might be a result of my Duran Duran hang-up in the eighties), but this not the case with A-ha. Must be since they do not have a permanent base player.

After about forty minutes, there was a break. Which most of us found a bit strange, because the band had really played all of their first album by then. Now what? As a surprise dessert, we got their second album, "Scoundrel days". Not bad.

By the time they were done, my jaws were aching from all the smiling. I have been to quite a few concerts in my time, and this made it straight to my Top 3 list. Loved it. And - we were seated in the same row as Her Majesty. The Queen. Not a real fan of royalty, so to me it feels great to see them seated among their people.

* http://home.online.no/~groennsl/tittentei/

Living a girl´s adventure tale

More Stuart Weitzman. Yaaay! While we´re at it, I figured, why not?! These have been faithful for years, after I found them in my local shoestore, and they did not carry my size.  So it took me TWO WHOLE YEARS to track them down on the web. Finally, I found them, in Trondheim, of all places. I wanted them with black soles, but it does not really matter. This way they are a bit less formal.

Not my typical Monday shoe, I must admit. But today is special. And I love playing dress-up! Have a date with husband at Oslo Concert Hall. A-ha squeezing the last drops out of the lemon that is retirement. Tickets were bl**dy expensive for a Monday night, but since it´s all for a good cause*, I do not really mind that much. Deep inside my tremendous cleavage, there is a heart, you know.

Oh, gotta go now. Will tell you all about it. Later.

* http://www.mercyships.org/

Lessons in anger management

Good old Stuart Weitzman. Every woman´s best friend. He makes comfortable party shoes. I have two pairs that have gotten me through many a wedding (not my own!) without too many blisters. I picked these up at a 70% mark-down, at my local old-but-classic shoe store. I do not know what it is about me and pink shoes. These are not the shoes of a girl listening a lot to "Rage against the machine" on the tram to work. You think. Well, good. Then I managed to fool you all. I am actually an undercover angry person.  At least today.

It´s that time of the month again. And I am not talking about THAT time of the month. No, I am talking about month-end. Being a consultant, you are what you invoice. You invoice zero, you ARE a zero. It´s tough, but either you can handle it - or you can´t. So. Every last working day of the month, you have to make sure that you have registered all your hours correctly, or there will be no money coming in. Which would be a very bad thing for your company. And you need to file your expense reports. Otherwise, you will need to pay for those flights out of your own pocket, which would be a very bad thing for you.

So, last night was time to go through all of my handbags, jackets, coats, and "the-computer-bag-from-hell" (has a gazillion pockets that hide stuff), to retrieve bus tickets, cab receipts, boarding passes and anything else work-related. Knowing how many handbags and jackets I have, this is a real pain in the a**. Afterwards, you need to sort out what is truly work-related, and then GLUE all these tiny slips of paper on to bigger pieces of paper, so that it looks half decent when the accounting people receive it. I have never tried the "plastic bag" trick, where you just hand over a bag with all your receipts for someone to sort out. My grandfather was an auditor, so I think this is something in my gene pool. I simply do it properly, or not at all.

The hours are easy to register, as you keep track of this on a running basis, BUT you need to register them at least once for invoicing. Then, sometimes the client requires you to register the same hours in their own system, to get them approved properly. Which makes sense. Then - IF you deliver as a subcontractor, it might be that you need to post you hours there as well. So far, so good.  

Now is when the real fun starts. Because now you do it all again in each project manager´s very, very adhoc spreadsheet. Knowing that spreadsheets can actually tell a lot about what is going on - or sometimes absolutely NOT going on - in a person´s brain, this can be a right out frightening task. And - if you are among the "chosen ones" - you ARE a project manager too! Then you get to chase these other slackers to fill in your own personal genius spreadsheets. Wheeew. I am sorry, but this process really kills me. Every time. In my ideal world, the client just sends you a check in the mail (or even better, WIRE the money) to your company once a month, if they were happy with what you did and wanted to see you again. If they really wanted to see you again, they would send a huge check. If they were not too keen on seeing you, maybe just an envelope with some spare change and a bus ticket. Or put a horse´s head in your bed or something.

My adorable husband just sent me an e-mail asking me out for dinner tonight. I am now suddenly happy as a bird again. Even bought myself flowers on the way home from bone-breaking session. I guess this will be a good weekend after all. Just need to pop by the office with all these pieces of paper first.