Steak frites avec bearnaise, s'il vous plait

I am by no means trying to wear my remaining shoes by brand. Two pairs of Camper shoes in a row is just a coincidence, I assure you. Here is a proof that Camper does not only make comfortable shoes. These give me blisters on my toes (stupid stiff patent leather), and the slingback strap is a joke, as it refuses to stay up. Of course, the obvious solution to the latter would be pinching an additional hole in the strap to tighten it, but I just couldn't be bothered doing that today. Maybe tomorrow. Or next year.

It sucks being in Oslo this weekend. I should have been on the balcony of my new house today, sipping a glass of rosé on the stone staircase down to the garden. I think I am suffering from French Withdrawal Syndrome, if there is such a thing (computer says... "no"). There is only one place where you can get a proper French fix in Oslo - Brasserie France. I am meeting my dear husband there later. I even went to the hairdresser this afternoon to look my very best. (Hey! Your hair grows during office hours, of course you can have it cut during office hours, too! Duh!)

And - on my way to the restaurant I will be making a very brief stop at LV (which is - very conveniently - located close to the restaurant). It doesn't get more French than that, right?

You see - I started doing my expense report on Wednesday - and it so happens that I have so many tram tickets to and from client offices on my report for the past few months that the refund I get from work will actually more than cover the cost of this very sensible investment! It is practically a free LV cardholder! For my future tram tickets! That's recycling for ya. I even had the thing hot-stamped with my initials in shiny gold. Totally over-the-top, I know.

And who would believe that I actually have a degree in finance....

When I come to think of it, I guess that was CORPORATE finance. Biiiiig numbers. It is all in thousands anyway, isn't it?

Au revoir!

What goes up must come down

Mary Janes* from Camper. Very comfortable, but makes me look like a librarian. Or someone from the Amish community. Not that I have anything against librarians (or Amish people for that sake) per se, quite the contrary, but you have to agree that I do have other shoes that are slightly more glamorous than these, right?

Time for last meeting with our district Child Welfare department. We had the first interview just before Easter, then another one last week, and this time we were called to read through the summary of the report that will be the basis for our approval as adoptive parents. It has been a quite interesting process, as you need to think thoroughly through the whole "having-children-business" - far beyond the regular "oh, babies are so cuuuute!". Important topics that I generally think more people should have been forced to consider before having kids. Like, most importantly, how to raise them to become decent individuals.

We did perhaps not mention that we intend to raise our child according to the following books by Christie S. Mellor:

• The Three-Martini Playdate: A Practical Guide to Happy Parenting
• The Three-Martini Family Vacation: A Field Guide to Intrepid Parenting
• We Were Here First Kid

 With topics like:

• Bedtime: Is Five-thirty Too Early?
• Screaming: Is It Necessary?
• Child Labor: Not Just for the Third World!
• "Children's Music": Why?

I am not sure if the welfare worker would get our sense of humor, but most probably, she would. Even though these books do not quite compare to Dr. Spock** (which was the book my mum relied on when she had me - and look where that got me), but our books surely are more entertaining.

To be honest I don't think the people at the Child Welfare Centre would worry so much about the books. Apparently they are used to quite a lot, as nobody even lifted an eyelid when I came rushing into their office this morning, only to realize that my stupid computer backpack had made my dress ride up all the way around my waist, resulting in my derriere being sort of "out there".

I very discreetly pulled my dress down again, crossing my fingers that nobody noticed.

What would a librarian have done?

* http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Jane_(shoe)
** http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Benjamin_Spock

Bureaucrazy

Stuart Weitzman sandals in plastic fantastic. Souvenir shoes from St. Tropez. Perhaps not the best buy I have made, I must admit. I thought they looked very cool in the store. But later - naah. I don't know. They're not flipflops and not proper sandals. Just somehere in between.

Stupid shoes for a shitty day is a good match, I guess. I have been waiting all day to get a confirmation from our realtor in "Frrrrance" regarding the final contract signing. Well. Everything I have heard so far about French bureaucracy happens to be true. Since I am not a very patient person when it comes to general stupidity or incompetence I have not been in the best mood this afternoon.

To get my mind off the fact that there will be no signing of contracts this weekend (and no corresponding celebration seafood extravaganza at Astoux!) I went out to buy some dinner. I was run over by a woman with a stroller upon exiting our house, and it just went upwards after that. I go to the fishmonger perhaps once every four months. Today I felt like eating very healthy (still feel bad about my affair with Ben & Jerry last weekend), so I decided to buy some trout. Guess what! The fishmonger is closed for renovations!

Ok. As my mood deteriorated further, drastic actions were needed. A visit to the local Monsoon store should help. Right. I was run over by another stroller on my way over there (ouch!). And, of course, they did not have the amazing summer dress in my size. On my way to the grocery store I stopped by our local dry cleaner to pick up one of my husband's suits. Being served by some nitwit that did not volunteer to take the blame for my shirts not being ironed properly a couple of weeks back did not exactly improve my mood, neither did the fact that the annoying girl behind the fish counter did not want to take the skin off my fish (I do not like fish that looks like FISH!).

After carrying the suit and all the groceries home, I felt like a chimpanzee dragging my stretched arms along the floor. And then. I manage to kick into the leg of our kitchen table. Nnnnnnnngh!

Some say that the pain you feel when you hit the delicate nerve-endings of one of your toes is about as bad as giving birth. I have no idea, but it sure hurts like hell. It almost got me in tears.

I think I will just try to sit quietly in a corner for a little hour or so now, and not move. Hoping that this will all just go away.

It's a man's world

I need to point out that I had these polished before I wore them to work today. This pair of Lumberjacks (!) are among my oldest shoes. We are talking first year of business school. Cirka 1991. Last century. I bought two pairs of these back then, and I have kept both. I could easily have thrown them away, but then in January I suddenly saw some shoes that looked EXACTLY the same in the new shoe collection from Prada. Yay. I have been struggling with the eighties being back in fashion for a while now, but now the very safe nineties are here again. Which suits me better, as I like preppy.

Today I got up early to go and have the tyres on our SUV changed for the summer. While Mr. Incredible, who I should perhaps refer to as my WIFE, drove our little sports car to his office. In theory, I could have changed the tyres myself. But since Mr. I very clearly does not share my interest in manual labour, I am sure as hell not getting my hands dirty on my own. Instead I get to drive somewhere and get this fairly good-looking guy change the tyres while I check out his bum. (Just kidding. I just figured out that if I could make Mr. I jealous of the tyre guy, then maybe he would go get the tyres changed the next time. For a change. As if. And - of course the tyre guy is not even remotely hot. Just my luck.)

This evening I continued performing my duties as the man of the house, spending three hours setting up this box that will allow my wife to watch Norwegian soccer at our new summer house in France. By logging on to our PVR here in Oslo through our French internet connection. Which I am already looking forward to setting up. Using a French user manual. Merde.

I am obviously a bit of a geek, as I actually enjoy getting technical gadgets like these to work. Preferably without help. But the satisfying feeling I had after I got our "Slingbox" to work from a laptop and both of our iPads this evening soon changed to despair when I realized the implications of my actions.

I have now made it possible for my wife to watch soccer anytime. Anywhere. Which accidentally happens to be the slogan for this incredible little box of ours.

Just. Great.

Of course, Mr. I is happy.

Oh, the things you do for love.

My name is Efficiency

I managed to wear TWO pairs of shoes today. Although some might argue that these are not really shoes, but rather two pieces of leather with with some rope attached. I do not disagree - technically - but at least we are talking Marina Rinaldi leather and rope, right?

Seasons are quite distinct when you live in Norway. As seasons change there are different procedures that need to performed, like:

• Changing from winter to summer tyres on the car
• Taking the skis out of the car to be replaced by golf clubs
• Delivering your fur coat for summer storage (to avoid creatures laying eggs in it during summer, I guess)
• Going on a diet (to get that "beach body" you never had, and never will have)
• Having that long overdue bikini wax. Ouch.
• Having a pedicure so that you can start wearing sandals again. Yay!

It is important to know your priorities, so today I had a pedicure booked after work. And I walked home in my leather/rope flipflops, allowing my feet to bask in the sunshine in all their newly achieved fabulousness. As wearing closed shoes with a fresh pedicure is a biiiig "no-no".

Hm. I guess it is perhaps time to start thinking about getting those tyres changed at some stage, too.

A little bird told me

Dark brown shoes. I have no clue what brand. I picked them up at the street market in Bogstadveien a couple of years ago. Nice change from black on days when you need to don your "business attire".

You know I love shopping, but what you perhaps did not know is that I love browsing through mail order catalogues. In Norway we have one particular catalogue, "Select", that gets me in tears. There are so many splendid things for sale in that catalogue! Things that have never ever crossed your mind as something you - or anyone - for that sake, would ever need.

I just received the summer catalogue in the mail. Because - YES - I have actually bought something from this place. Once. It was a revenge gift for Mr. Incredible´s advent calendar - the year after he got me sanitizing wipes as one of my calendar gifts (the woman in the commercial looked so happy, so he figured I would be too). After that year, Mr. Incredible is the proud owner of a wireless (yup!) nose-hair trimmer. And I will most probably receive this catalogue for as long as I live. Yay.

This year I decided to focus a bit on what we could possibly need for our new summer house. My eyes were immediately drawn to this adorable little bird:

It has a photo cell and sings when somebody walks past it. Perhaps this could be an alternative to the burglar alarm? Or would possible guests get in their holiday mood by being greeted by this little bird? I think this is a must-have for any home, really. Perhaps we should get one for our apartment in Oslo as well.

Then, this "charming OWL" caught my eye. WHEN - if ever - was an owl considered to be CHARMING? Is it the nest that does it? At least it IS friendly to the environment, as it runs on solar power. Talk about being trendy.

Oh, look - it's even ON SALE at 50% off! And it has children that look as if they were made out of ALABASTER. Very special. And the thing is 24 centimeters tall, wow! I think I should get a couple of these. At this price, it makes THE perfect house-warming gift if any of my friends should decide to move. 

Of course, we must not forget to focus on personal hygiene. The catalogue features quite a selection in this field, including several versions of sticky detox-pads that you stick to your feet so that they draw all the nastiness out of your body while you sleep. Amazing. My favorite this time, however, was this little thingy. The ear-wax remover. Call me old-fashioned, but I think I will stick to my good-old cotton buds for this purpose also in the future. 

Sticking this sharp piece of metal into your ear must surely be more dangerous than running with scissors? "Perform a lobotomy, now in the safety (?) of your own home."

Houston - we have a problem

Havaïanas. For some reason, I used to think that these sandals were actually produced in Hawaii. Duh. After visiting Brazil in 2008, I know better. You can buy them EVERYWHERE over there. And they cost NOTHING. I use these mainly to get to and from the pool at the gym. Which I visited again yesterday morning, with my sister. My FOURTH visit to the gym this week, mind you.

On Wednesday night I promised myself that IF I made it to the gym three times this week, I would buy the patent raspberry red ballerinas from Clarks. Unfortunately, it turns out that there is no way that I can do that.

You see, I decided to do a long overdue inventory of my shoe closet this morning. And the result was kinda worrying. I keep pictures of the shoes I have used since starting this blog by adding them to a folder on my iMac marked "USED", after they have been posted to the blog. Since I am starting to get a bit sick of having to photograph my shoes every morning before I go out, today I decided to take pictures of all the remaining pairs in my shoe closet in one go, and save these in a folder marked "UNUSED".

I am so clever.

Only. There seems to be a bit of a problem.

• I started this totally meaningless project on July 31st, 2010. 
• This was 275 days ago.
• Since then I have posted 83 pictures of pairs of shoes to my blog.
• This means that I have worn a "new" pair and written about it every third day or so.
• The project ends on July 31st, 2011.
• This is now in 90 days from now.

So. 

How many pairs of shoes do you think I have left in my closet?

How about 96?
Like, nine six.
Yes, NINETY-SIX...

..... and - there is an additional pair waiting for me to be picked of from the post office. 

I think I must consider taking time off from work to be a full-time shoe-wearer until the end of July.