Say "cheeeeeese"!

Looking back at this week, it has not really been a week for fab shoes. When I am busy and tired I tend to focus on comfort. I will try to get a grip on it and be better next week. Today´s shoes are from my favorite clothing brand. This is the kind of shoes that the stylish (but middle-aged) female Italian tourists wear when traveling (as seen in Vigeland Park). I think I would have to take up smoking to be more Italian than this.

Wheeew! I had such a fun day at work today, but with back-to-back meetings all day - you feel like a limp dishrag in the end. I simply can´t handle that much fun in one day. (By the way, please do not tell the local tax authorities that I actually enjoy my job so much - they might decide to increase my taxes.)

I did not even have time to eat my packed lunch. Lunch "on-the-go" is a bit of a challenge since I am trying to keep my carbs to a minimum. I try to defend myself against all the evil (screaming!) carbs by always keeping an omelette handy. "Is that an omelette in your handbag, or are you just happy to see me?" Problem is, I never do have the time to actually eat this when I am busy, and I always forget to bring cutlery. Once I managed to eat my "Emergency Handbag Omelette" (EHO?) using a ruler. The old girl scout returns when you least expect her to.

As you are not supposed to go grocery shopping on an empty stomach, I went straight for my local deli - "Fromagerie" - on the way home. I simply refuse to abide to stupid rules like that. Life is too short not to stuff your face with amazing food when you feel like it. This shop actually works a bit like a drug dealer, with the first hit being "on the house" (or - at least that is what I have heard). Except in this case there are no needles involved, just "teeny-weeny" pieces of delicious, mouth-watering cheese. And - no carbs. Just fat-fat-fat and loads of protein. Ahhhh. Went completely berserk, as I always do when I enter this shop. I must do something about my serious Pata Negra* addiction someday soon.

Now I am quite ready for a romantic threesome with husband and a bottle of Vosne-Romanee. I guess maybe our old friends Moet & Chandon will show up at some stage. I learned today that they get on really well with Langres**.

P.S. Honey, are you coming home soon? Leave that stupid office now, will you?

For today´s session in adult education, please refer to:

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

** http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Langres_(cheese)

Post kick-off stress syndrome

As much as I adore my Fiorentini+Baker biker boots (SJP* has them too!), I cannot help but feeling a bit down about the fact that it is time to wear them again. Autumn is here. I will most probably not be wearing sandals for a while now. At least not until Christmas, that is (yay!). Booked my flight to the Caribbean yesterday. 99 days to go.

Work is a tad (too) hectic these days. Great fun, but there is not really time for so much else. All work and no play makes me a dull girl, indeed. Well, I guess I played enough this weekend, anyway.

Arrived at my French class late today, ran out of a meeting in the office and managed to hop on the wrong tram. I had not had the time to do my homework, so I had to pull something similar to the good old "the dog ate my homework" excuse. I blamed having to work for 14 hours straight yesterday. I could tell that the two lawyers were really impressed, and that I had their sympathy. The female executive, that I now know works in Human Resources somewhere, gave me a worried look. And, finally, our "hope for the future" just looked at me, thinking "I am soooo never getting a job like that. Seeeeriously. You have to work thaaaat much, and it is not even in faaaaashion. Duh."

You may not be aware of it, but I read people´s minds really well. Your are hereby warned.

* SJP is the actress that plays the main character in SATC. A real style icon. If none of this makes any sense to you, please go away. Now. Or please google it or something, you twit.

Bad shoe day

My husband hates these. They were actually GONE for six months after we moved back into our apartment after renovating it last year. I have a pretty good idea who hid them under the bed (very original hiding place). Good thing he did not have the guts to throw them away.

This is the kind of shoes I wear when I feel really, really sorry for myself. Woke up with a terrible cold this morning. The kind that sits behind your eyes and makes your eyes run when you look at bright light. Like, for instance, a computer screen. Called in sick, only to end up having one of my busier working days. It is good to feel useful, but sometimes it would be good to just be able to pull a blanket over your head and forget about the world. At least on days like these. As a consultant that is not always easy. I once got back to see a client after I had been down with a flu for a week. The client asked me when I would be able to deliver the working days "lost" when I was ill. Hm. How would "NEVER" work for you? Yikes.

Carpet burns and hickies

Sugar in the mooorning. Not.

I hate waking up not remembering WHEN - or even worse - not remembering at all THAT I went to bed. It does not happen as often as it used to, now that I am such a mature and grown-up person. But it still happens. For some reason it happens more frequently in connection with events at work. I think it might be that when I go to other parties, I am too caught up in making sure that my husband is ok, so that when I go out without him - I totally forget to look after myself. Bad excuse, I know. But maybe an explanation of sorts.

Anyway. Great party last night. I think. It was one of those where you do not really expect it to be much fun, simply because you have not slept the night before, and can not think of anything you would like to do than just sleeeeeeeeep. I guess the turnaround happened sometime in the middle of a half-bottle of prosecco that I shared with my colleague before we went to our rooms to get changed for dinner. There was dancing. There was karaoke. Bottles and bottles of wine. And - as always, I am talking FAR too much. I never learn. I feel sorry for the people that have to bear with me.

Sunday, lunch. First of all: Why do people keep serving me their fish gratain when I am hung over? I crave burgers and pizza on days like these, can you hear me?! Then, we had a short debrief. Comparing bruises, most of them acquired hanging on to the rigs of the tall ship for our bare lives on Friday*. One girl had one that looked very much like a hickey. Who knows what goes on when the whole company shares one very dark bedroom for one night. Then we had the carpet burns. On our chins. Really cute. Apparently there was some sharp edge on the front of our uniform sailor jackets that had caused this. Nice.

Four hour busride to get home (so glad it was not another tall ship sailing adventure). Slept most of the way, then started planning Christmas Party with people on bus. I am not sure if that was a sign that the healing from yesterday's battles was on its way. Or whether I am simply an incurable party animal.

I love my couch. Going to bed now. Sleep tight, you. I know I will.

* Just for the record - I was not among the people climbing the rigs. Somebody had to volunteer to take photos to document it all, you know. AND - I am afraid of heights.

Hoy!

I got the first feeling that something wasn't quite right as I got off the tram and turned around the bend below the Akershus fortress. No rigs in sight. As I got closer, I saw all my neatly dressed colleagues in their matching navy blue sailor jackets. Hm. No ship. On the other hand - there was our HR Coordinator constantly on the phone, gesticulating and shouting "No, no, no!"

Turned out that the ship was somewehere else. Not at another dock in town, but in another town. Three and a half hour away by bus. So, as we are quite used to when it comes to public transportation in Norway - what was supposed to be one type of transportation, ended up being a busride. Fortunately, you can always count on the bus.

After lunch in Kragerø, it was time for embarkation. No canapees, no sparkling wine. All we got was a piece of string with a key on it, and a muster number. I got number 8. At least I was lucky enough to get a bed. Some people ended up in hammocks.

I was assigned to the 4-8 watch, or the "dog watch". Since the departure was so delayed, it was six o'clock before we got started. I was assigned the role as lookout, meaning that I was to stay in the front of the ship (I guess this has some funny maritime word for it that I do not remember), looking out for any large objects (including boats, containers or wooden logs) that might come in our way. Then, if I saw something, I was supposed to ring a bell, depending on the location of the object. For a while I thought we were going to ram straight into the Color Line ferry from Oslo to Kiel, but as I did not know whether to ring the bell one, two or three times - I pretended like nothing was happening. The only other object spotted was a white plastic bag. Some people pointed out to me that I missed an empty Coke bottle on the starboard side. Imagine what could have happened if it had been an iceberg?

In general, I really enjoy staring at the ocean. Sitting in a deck chair with a crappy chic-lit paperback and some bubbly really is my kind of vacation. And (maybe because I was born in the sign of the Aquarius) - water makes me calm (unless I am below it). But this is obviously a whole different story when you HAVE TO keep staring at the freaking ocean CONSTANTLY because other people's lives depend on you. Boy, that was boring! And - we were sailing in the opposite direction of the sunset, so I could not really enjoy that either. To top it all off, it was freeezing.

Since we had to be back on watch again at four, we went to bed early. Lights out at ten. Of course, the two other shifts could not go to bed at the same time. So I can totally relate to what the link below refers to as "dog sleep". It is really unfair waking up in the morning - feeling like shit - when you did not have one drop of alcohol the night before. I also regret packing too light. There was a couple of hours during that night that I regretted packing my fleece sleeping bag liner to allow space for more shoes, instead of bringing my proper sleeping bag. Brrrrrr.

In spite of the lack of sleep, the morning watch was still better. The sunrise was stunning. Otherwise, I spent most of the morning pretending that I was working on something or other (which is a special talent of mine) - while struggling to stay awake. To illustrate what an excellent team player I am, I volunteered to help scrub the decks. Haha. Don't tell my husband that I CAN actually clean. Then he will get rid of our maid immediately.

Yawn.

For explanation of the term "dog watch", please refer til this link in Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dog_watch

Navigare necesse est

More flats. Danish, I think. Must be designed in the island of Mols, as NOBODY in their right mind would consider designing shoes with blush pink suede lining. Or buy them, for that sake. They do not look too tempting after being worn a couple of times. Purchased as (flat) backup shoes for work conference in San Francisco two years ago. The trip when I forgot that I had already packed my shoes (too much wine), and ended up packing 9 pairs of shoes and one furry pink slipper.

Had my hair cut today. And colored. Went for a very blonde color, as I do not like people to expect too much of me. Staying blonde is therefore quite comfortable, even though I suspect that I am really a brunette (with grey hairs) by now. Why is it that when you decide that your hair looks like shit and you need to do something about it, you wake up the morning of your hairdresser appointment to realize that your hair has never looked better, ever? Beats me.

I am looking very much forward to tomorrow. It is finally time for the autumn kick-off with work. This is the main (work) event of the year. Imagine around 100 business intelligence geeks, on an old tall ship built in 1927, sailing into the sunset. Quite a sight, isn't it? No, seriously - this is something I have always wanted to do (maybe not together with 99 other geeks, but still). I am not really expecting a lot of luxury onboard a ship like this, except maybe at least a SMALL spa and a jacuzzi. No casino, I guess. And the tax free shopping will be quite limited, even though we ARE going to cross the border. The worst part is, perhaps, that there will be no champagne. This is a so-called "dry ship". Meaning - no alcohol. At all. Kind of interesting to spend 24 hours straight with my colleagues - entirely SOBER. I mean, we do not actually drink while working, but all of our SOCIAL activities seem to involve some kind of drinking. Which makes sense, I guess, as most of us are quite introvert and shy. We tend to open up a bit more after a beer or fifteen. Me in particular. In "track & field" terms, I guess I am to concider something of a party rabbit. The one that tries to drag the rest of the field to the point of no return.

Maybe you will find this hard to believe, but in spite of us all being (really loveable) geeks (or maybe just because of that?) this is the most fun place I have ever worked. Of course, I sometimes experience things here too that make me want to pull my teeth out, but - hey, such things happen everywhere. At least we are not (yet!) one of those huge corporations flowing over with corporate bullshit (which I am allergic to). I guess we will get there eventually, but by that time I will hopefully have retired to an imaginary vineyard in Southern France. Anyway, when things sometimes get too much, at least it helps being with the right people. Even at times when we are wearing the exact same jacket, all 100 of us.

Now it is time to get my stuff together for the weekend. I had to buy a new bag today, as I only have these monster ones, and luggage capacity onboard is limited. I normally concider my 90 litre North Face duffel to be quite limited, but to show that I am indeed a team player, I have now gone out and bought the medium size 70 litre. In company pink.

Packing for trips with work is always difficult. If I decide to wear sweatpants and a hoodie during the conference session, everyone else seem to turn up in a really sharp suit. I never get it right. I really do not have a lot of time to try on stuff tonight either, as I have two status reports to write, and a project that is starting to eat me alive. Must. Stay. Calm.

I really want to wear my new sequin jacket during dinner on Saturday, but I am not sure if I have the guts. Might be a bit more Vegas than Gothenburg.

Allô, allô!

Summer of 2008. Nice, France. Walked into my all-time-favorite store in the whole-wide-world, Marina Rinaldi (Max Mara for fatties). And - BOOM! Every year, the shop assistants close the doors of the shop when I get there - so I can have the place all to myself. They quite obviously work on commission. Those cynical bastards.

Wednesday. Time for my weekly French class. I was told that I could expect to meet quite a lot of typical high maintenance "kept" women in this place, as they tend to do these classes to keep their minds occupied with something other than shopping and their ugly little dogs. This was not true. At all. I am actually a bit disappointed, as I seem to be the only one of those, and I don´t have a dog. Not even an ugly one.

The group consists of:

• A really charming gourmet chef from Trinidad
• A business woman that recently bought an estate in Puligny-Montrachet (why do I not have friends like that?)
• An altruistic kindergarten teacher on a mission to save the world by dating a (Francophone) African
• A lawyer with a French boyfriend
• Her much more intelligent friend (also a lawyer)
• A spoiled (male) brat with rich parents
• Another spoiled (female) brat with rich parents
• Me

The two young ones are quite interesting. The guy just wants to learn French and then move to France and do nothing. As long as his dad pays, I guess that is ok. The girl, however, is very ambitious. She is nineteen years old, and is going to learn basic French before she moves to Paris in January. For a three-month course in FASHION MANAGEMENT. I am not sure where she thinks that will get her, but I get the impression that she believes that she will be discovered by Chanel or some other major fashion house before the end of those three months.

Don´t get me wrong, I do appreciate ambitious people. Really, I do. But what I miss sometimes is a link between ambitions and actual skills and experience. It seems that some young people have been told their whole lives that they are sooo special, and that the sun shines out of their asses. Could we have a little reality check here, please? Your parents are supposed to think you are special - after all - they are your parents! To the rest of us you are just another spoiled brat. Hard work is what gets you anywhere in this world. Please, grow up.

Shit, now I feel really ancient.