After the war

I know this is not by far shoe related. But I thought I should document what our place looks like BEFORE and AFTER the Midtvintersblot. Fortunately, we hire help. That takes care of the dishes. Otherwise, it would have looked much, much worse...

Before

After

Fortunately, it did not take a long time to clean up. The real bottle-neck is the dishwasher. Last batch of glasses was run on Monday night. Just in time for me to start packing for upcoming Christmas vacation....

Yay!

Fairytale of Oslo

Shoes bought for office Christmas party two years back. From Swedish brand Rizzo. Painful to walk in, but make my feet look smaller than the transvestite-size 41 that I use. I hope. I tend to get a blue toe-nail from time to time using them, though. But beauty takes suffering, or something like that.

The Midtvintersblot. A highlight of the year. For us - it just would not be Christmas without it. The ingredients of a perfect Midtvintersblot are:

• 22 adorable human beings: We invite quite a few more, but it seems the "equilibrium" of the supply/demand for this party is just over 20. Which is practical, as we can not cram more than 24 people into our dining room. Otherwise we would have to go for more than one seating. People fly in from London and Trondheim not to miss this "happening", something we really appreciate.
• A huge kettle with very strong gløgg: This is vital to get a proper party lift-off. The white gløgg was a success this year as well, and everybody got quite happy. No wonder, as Mr. I added a bottle of white rum to it while I was not paying attention. Same procedure as every year. I was happy to hear that this year EVERYBODY liked the concoction that we had put together. This meaning that we will - in fact - go for the same recipe again next year. With ALMONDS.
• Lutefisk - and the works: Dried cod treated with lye might not sound like something you would love, but it is tradition. And - a bit of an acquired taste. This was the 11th year, and it was perhaps the first time I actually liked it (I still finished my ginger-bread on the side, though). Adding a lot of beer and aquavit also helps the lutefisk go down more easily. Although, with my history with aquavit, I stick to white wine. I do manage to be sensible. Sometimes.
• Riskrem (rice cream) with raspberry sauce: This is always the last thing to finish before the guests arrive, and is always the reason I am still doing my make-up when people arrive. It is the most Christmassy dessert you can have. In addition to cloudberry cream, but I am not much of a berry-picker. So rice it is. With proper vanilla seeds. Served with a fairly nice port.

Then we sing. Loudly. While linking arms and rocking side-to-side. It is all very-very cosy-cosy.

1. Jussi Björling: O helga natt
2. The Pogues: Fairytale of New York
3. Hans Rotmo: Vårres Jul

During the whole meal, we tell stories from our daily lives from the past year. Which for some reason seem to be quite similar from year to year. About encounters with angry bears, old sami gentlemen, Finnish people - and women from up north. All building up our christmas spirit to new levels.

After dinner we walk around the Christmas tree. Most of us. By this stage, some have either left (the sensible ones) - or are sound asleep somewhere in the apartment. Proving that it IS true that you get sleepy eating fish. The Christmas tree is always a big thing, and we spend a whole evening decorating it. Which can sometimes be a bit depressing when you discover it leant up against a wall in the hall the morning after your big party. Oh, well. Bygones.

This year we skipped buying a tree, as we would not get much out of it when being away over Christmas. So - I tried to get hold of an inflatable one. No such luck, though. Instead I got this awesome (!) Christmas tree outfit. The plan was to get the person that got the "most happy" during dinner to dress up in it. Which he did. Unfortunately, he totally peaked just after that, and we did not really feel like waking him up. Poor guy. Must have been awfully warm sleeping in that. I should perhaps add that it does not just LOOK as if the tree is actually STANDING on our dining table. He really is. I almost had a heart attack right then and there.

Anyway. This is about how much I can tell you. We got the champagne out at this stage, and the rest is - as they say - history. I can, however, reveal that there was a marriage proposal at 4 AM that morning. Somewhere in Oslo. Apparently the gløgg was quite efficient this year. Congratulations to the happy couple!

Even though Christmas party season is a fun time of year, I am actually a bit relieved that it is all over now. I am not aware of any upcoming parties for at least a month or more now. I think my body will appreciate that, the poor little thing.

You´re a bum you´re a punk 
You´re an old slut on junk 
Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed 
You scumbag you maggot 
You cheap lousy faggot 
Happy christmas your arse I pray god it´s our last. *

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

Bibbido-bobbido-bad hair day...

My Pedro Garcia party shoes. Picked them up at the January sales during year-end reporting for the big oil company in Stavanger two years ago - at Rolfsen. Great shop. I must warn you - Stavanger is a very expensive, but nice, place to go shopping. These are shoes that should make every girl feel like a princess. Even though she's just another nerd in a frock. Well. Sometimes they work like that, and sometimes - they just DON'T.

As I had to get my hair cut for my upcoming vacation anyway, I figured I should get my hairdresser to do my hair for the office Christmas party while he was at it. Stuuuupid mistake. Don't get me wrong. I have THE BEST hairdresser, I really do. But I tend not to like my hair much when it is too "done". So my curly sixties-style back-combed thing did not do much for my self confidence, I will tell you that much. I actually wanted to CRY when I looked myself in the mirror, as it was not "me". At all. What a great way to start your evening!

As there was no time left to re-wash and blow-dry hair once I got home to get changed, I just had to cut my losses and go out in public looking like a freaky Marilyn Monroe wannabe. I "just" had to pick the right dress. Turned out to be a bit of a problem. Had four alternatives lined up when I left for work in the morning. I normally love all four of them, but as I did not look anything like myself with the stupid fluffy hair, I decided that they were either:

• Too boring (I am still recovering from the navy blue airport incident)
• Too pink

Three of them showed too much cleavage, while three showed off my nice and flappy bingo wings just perfectly. Great. So I went for the newest dress - purchased for new year's in St. Barths. The only one that hid the flaps, although being a bit too revealing in other areas. Great. Did not feel very comfortable. At all. But did not have the time to do anything about it.

So - what is a girl to do when she feels like S.H.I.T.? She tries to get by as well as she can. Generally, there are two options:

• Suffer through the evening and hope nobody notices
• Get far too drunk, far too early

I decided to go for the - obvious - FIRST option. If there is a party where you would like to try to stay decently sober and not make a complete ass of yourself, it is the office Christmas party. So, it is not that I did not have the right intentions upon arrival. Really, I don't know where it all went wrong, but somehow it did. Terribly. I guess I should have picked up the first sign when I shared a lobster tail rolled in a potato tortilla ("Heeeeey, læfsbuss!") with the gentleman sitting next to me. Lady-and-the-tramp style. Biting off each our end. REAL classy. Thinking about it still makes me cringe.

THAT was the exact time when a little green creature on my shoulder should have told me to get my ass home. Unfortunately, I do not know such a creature. Being very aware of this fact, my best male friend (excluding Mr. I) had volunteered in advance to send me a text message during the evening telling me to take it easy. He did. Bad thing I did not check my phone until 02.19 AM. By that time I guess I had been talking everyone's ears off/been generally obnoxious for hours already. And kept going at it for another hour or so. Niiice.

I am actually quite glad that I most probably will not have to go into the office again until late January. By that time I hope nobody will really remember. Or - I hope - even care.

When pigs fly

Just as I spend a lot of time doing the invitations for our "Midtvintersblot", I like to try to set a nice table.  Being this very traditional and extremely formal party (not!), that always includes place cards. For years now, we have had home-made ginger-bread place cards. Heart-shaped ones. I could not find my heart-shaped cut-out-thingy this year. So I decided to go for pigs. Which is what most of us do turn into after a few hours anyway. The genius about the ginger-bread cakes is that they serve as back-up food for the ones that do not really appreciate the lutefisk that much. Then they can very discreetly (of course) nibble their little cake, and pretend that they do eat lutefisk. Like any other responsible grown-up person would do.

Every year we also have these bibs. They have indeed saved many a tie over the years. And makes sure that the ladies do not loose (too much) food down their cleavage. It is definitely not a good thing waking up in the morning with lutefisk between your boobs. Not that I have ever tried that. But I can imagine. So, I buy these online from www.seafood.no. Works wonders. We even have matching glasses for the aquavit.

The drop-out

Shocking. These are among my oldest shoes. From the days when I used to wear a suit to work, but hadn't really developed my shoe addiction - or any sort of fashion sense just yet. Long before Trinny & Susannah were born. There is a brand of jeans called "Not Your Daughter's Jeans" (NYDJ). If there was a similar brand for shoes, these shoes would typically be from "Not Your Husband's Shoes" (NYHS). Instead - they are from a Swedish "pretend-to-be-Italian" brand called Don & Donna. A brand that was cool in the nineties. Not so much anymore. I wore a suit to work to mark the occasion. Guess a few believed I was going out for a job interview. Good to keep people on their toes every now and then.

So - it's official. I am a drop-out. For the first time in my life. Well, except for Weight Watchers - that is. French class finally got the best of me. Being the stereo-typical "good girl", I just could not face the teacher when I hadn't done my homework, TWO WEEKS in a row. I am such an awful person. A real slacker. We are now at the stage where we are asked to write blog posts in French as homework. No more playing around with funny words for groceries. But - I am just SO not there yet. It's actually very hard. I can not get my head around conjugating these verbs! There is just no logic to it. Anyway. I have never been one to give up too easily, so I will definitely give it a go again next year. When my life has calmed down a bit. As if it ever will. 

These days I am busy preparing for our annual Christmas Party. Times two. The one at work is on Friday, and I am on the committee. On Saturday, we have a huge party at home. This is really not a Christmas party as such. It is rather an old Nordic pagan tradition called the "Midtvintersblot". In the olden days they used to sacrifice animals, and drink and spill a lot of blood. The only sacrifice we make nowadays is really our own livers. Which can be brutal enough, I'll tell you.

Preparations at home have been going on for a good week now. First major milestone was the start of the gløgg-making. Gløgg is spiced up (in more than sense) mulled wine. I used to buy this ready-made, and based on RED wine. It was really not that good, and FAR to sweet. So I started experimenting with different spices. And - last year I finally took it all to a whole new level and made a version based on white wine. Totally out there, I know. I think it was a success, though. We actually finished the whole batch before dinner, which was a first. Still, my most sincere (but also perhaps rudest) friend said to me last year: "This tastes ok, but it is not BY FAR as good as the white gløgg we got in Copenhagen". Well. This year I contacted the very chef at the very Hotel D'Angleterre in Copenhagen to get the very recipe. He was kind enough to give me the list of the ingredients. Then he suggested "I taste myself to success". Ha. Danish people. They always try to get you drunk.

Since I have a few other things to do than "taste my way to success", I am sticking to last year's recipe. White wine, apple juice, madeira, white port - and calvados. Dried apricots and almonds are chopped and put into the mix at the end. The apricots were prepared today and is now soaking in a dangerous mix of calvados and white port. With a dash of a couple of more secret ingredients from the Danish chef. Most probably, my friend will not approve. He never does. Maybe suggesting adding his nuts instead of chopped almonds next year will teach him some manners.

Or - I will simply stop going through all this hassle and go for the Finnish version I got off Facebook today:

• Add one raisin
• Pour one liter of vodka over the raisin
• Drink
• If the gløgg tastes too sweet, you may skip the raisin

I wonder if anybody could really tell the difference when they get to their second helping.

Ending on a high note

Kandahar boots, from Switzerland. Ugly. Really ugly. But - they keep my feet warm. These days, that is of utter importance. Have been down with a terrible cold for a week now. Should have stayed under the sheets for at least three days this week, but things are just too busy at the moment. Instead, I force down my Lemsip* (yuk), wear horrid shoes - and drag myself to work. Such a martyr, I know.

Parents and in-laws visiting this weekend, for our yearly pre-christmas family get-together. Dinner at Frognerseteren on Friday night. Sheep and (not so cheap) champagne. Desperate Christmas shopping on Saturday morning. Followed by Danish (again!) Christmas lunch at Statholderens Krostue. 

The tram ride to the restaurant was quite memorable. Being a bit of a working class hero, it was a big moment for me when I got to give our former prime minister, The Mother of Our Great Country, The Labour Queen a.k.a. Mrs. Brundtland, instructions on which tram line to take. I must add that this was not the first time in the history of our family that we have had a close encounter with a Norwegian prime minister. My grandfather grew up with the former Prime Minister Nordli, and used to kick his honorable ass on a regular basis. Apparently the PM was a real wimp as a child. But being bullied as a child helps build character, just look how far that got him as an adult. Partly - thanks to my grandfather.

Lunch was great. And followed by a bottle of even greater 1977 vintage port. Still, the highlight of the day was the A-ha concert at Oslo Spektrum. The very last one. Ever. I had a moment there struggling to hold my tears back. And- after 25 years - Paal Waaktaar finally spoke.

We are talking about some of the major heroes of my youth here. These three guys showed us all what you can achieve in spite of being born under a rock in a cold country far up north. So, it is not just about the music. They are our very own rock stars. Very well behaved rock stars, but still. Fortunately, I do not think this is the last we have heard - or seen - from these three. Surely - there will be new musical projects in the years to come. And art - by the adorable Mags.

Funny thing how you tend to bump into people you never see elsewhere on occasions like this. In the row behind me was a former colleague I haven't seen in 10 years. In the row ahead of me was another former colleague. And - one seat to my right: The Norwegian Minister of Justice. Mr. Storberget. His body guard was seated between us. With my sister-in-law being a lawyer, I figured I should ask the minister if he would be willing to pose in a photo with me. Would be great christmas greeting for her, wouldn't it? So, I turned to the very serious-looking (and quite good-looking, If I may say so) body guard next to me. He did not speak Norwegian. Weird, but maybe they use some international body guard company. Anyway, he assured me "the photo will definitely happen". Yay!

So. This is how it turned out that I now have a photo of me and the Norwegian Minister of Justice on my iPhone. The photo is taken by the guy that turned out NOT to be a body guard. He is - in fact - The Russian Minister of Justice. Mr. Alexandr Konovalov. Oops.

* http://www.lemsip.co.uk/

December it is!

I have hit a bit of a dry spell on the shoe side this week. I do not have that many shoes that are useful at 10 degrees (celsius) below.

I have made the calendar on the left myself. I am very much a project "beginner". Maybe not so much of a "finisher". Dear husband uses this beautiful piece of handicraft as a typical example. I started off really well. Four Christmas trees. Four Christmas hearts. Then - I loose my patience. And I present to you.... Tadah! THE CHRISTMAS SQUARES! All 16 of them. This is what I refer to as my "creative laziness". Without this laziness, there would be no progress in the world, I tell you. Most inventions were triggered by laziness in the first place, weren't they?

We have used this home-made one every year since I moved in (I do not remember if that was the deal, "if you let me move in I will make you an advent calendar..."). Except last year. Unpacking all the boxes after the apartment renovation was like an advent calendar in itself ("Wow, do I really have one of THOSE?" A surprise every day!), so we skipped the whole thing that year.

The general deal is that we each buy 12 gifts, so that we each get one every other day. Normally, we get to the last week of November, and I hang up the calendar, with the 12 nicely wrapped gifts. Sometimes I start buying stuff during our summer vacation, if I find something really nice and thoughtful. Then, on November 30th, we have the following scenarios:

• Husband asks his visiting mum if she can help him a bit (meaning: getting ALL the gifts for him)
• Husband asks younger first-year-student sister to help him (this is a long time ago, she has been a lawyer for years now)
• Husband gets totally freaked out, goes out during his lunch break and buys expensive gifts to make up for not planning ahead (as I have always said, I would be perfectly able to cope with 12 TINY diamonds, I am by no means picky or demanding, oh noooo). This shopping trip always includes a bottle of truffle oil, and some expensive olive paste/tapenade, which I put in the fridge and forget about until they are way past their sell-by-date.
• Husband puts TOO MUCH thought into buying the gifts, which is a disaster*

This year, we have been too busy. Both of us. I am really embarrassed to tell you that I am still four presents short this year. Me - I have my very own calendar. Mr. Incredible bought me the "carbohydrate" one on the right at the Copenhagen Airport. It was actually my suggestion, as I did not think I could push him that hard when I had not finished the 12 gifts myself.

I love my calendar. Now I get chocolate every morning! Wooohooooo!

So, if I appear moody to you, it is just me totally loosing control of my blood sugar levels again. Yum!

* Repeatedly referred to as the "ASAN-incident". He had seen this advertisement of this really happy woman on TV getting this particular feminine hygiene product. I am not going into detail, but I WAS NOT AS HAPPY AS THE WOMAN IN THE F***ING ADVERTISEMENT. I will tell you that much. This is the story that I always use to black-mail husband into getting really good calendar gifts.