Totally Unrelated Photo But At Least I'm Posting

Yesterday I met a dear friend for lunch. And coffee. And there might have been a pre-lunch coffee with another dear friend as well, since I was already in town, with lipstick, wearing clothes and all. These things are not supposed to happen. I'm not on sick leave to do pleasant things and enjoy myself, I know I know I know. And so I was punished thoroughly afterwards and through the night and all of today and probably will be tomorrow as well. So, yes, I got the message. Am not well, should not pretend to be. But oh, how sweet it was to not be in bed! To fake normalcy! If only for a couple of hours. And oh, how I've been paying the price for my audacity. But yes, lesson learned. Will not happen again. Bedridden it is. Bedridden with an extra sideorder of guilt and not a lipstick in sight. Oh joy.

Oh The Love

The holy moly ramma lamma ding dong love.
I cried the other day. Over dreams that never amounted to anything. Dreams that died of fear and insecurities and notknowingbetter. I cried because somehow I've taught myself that I'm a quitter. A lazy quitter.
When the truth is this:
The big one.
My one big dream, the really huge one, my only true wish, you know the one, that one, the one.
I never gave up on that. I never settled. I never made do.
I went for it all the way.
I went for it all the way.
Oh. The love.
Turns out I'm no quitter.
I'm a go getter.
Here I come!

This Weeks Eats

We like to cook. And eat. But during the week there never seem to be enough time to stand around the stove waiting for divine intervention. So a couple of years ago we started to plan our meals. Come Sunday, we sit down and talk about what we'd like to eat the following week and make a menu. Some items are always included, for example, in winter there's always a soup, there's always a crowd pleaser (something the kids will love) and usually some sort of pasta. Fish is there, so is meat of some kind. We recently bought a lamb from my parents village, now resting peacefully in our freezer, and are waiting for a deer (we're on the "shooting list" and will get it once it's, you know, killed). We try to limit our shopping to once a week and this seem works for us. Now, when people here this there are two reactions:

1. "Oh, we could never do that, I like to be spontaneous and cook what feels right at the moment." To which I always feel like saying bollocks, but never do. I just smile.
2. "Tell me what you're eating! Please! We're desperate!" To which I smile a whole other kind of smile and say sure thing, mister. So here we go. Mary, this one's for you.

Monday
Whole chicken, grilled the night before, with rice and lemony sauce that Jesper whipped up and a salad of shredded carrots, cabbage and rödkål.
Tuesday
Chick pea and pasta soup, grilled sandwiches with cheese and mustard.
Wednesday
Falukorv i ugn! Swedish sausage, extremely kid friendly. Baked in the oven with mashed potatoes, sauce bechamel and apples.
Thursday
Spaghetti with mushrooms (trattkantarell) and bacon, salad as on Monday.
Friday
Jamie Oliver's fish pudding. Very winter-y, very good.
Saturday
Lamb roast with all the trimmings.
Sunday
Home made pizza. Ah, bliss.

That's it. Will return on Sunday with next weeks menu. Cheerio!

Slow Learner

I worked this weekend. Felt I had too. So did Jesper. We juggled Saturday, we juggled Sunday, we juggled juggled like crazy clowns. It was lovely outside and friends were giving us updates on the weather and the sledding and the fun fun fun. We just juggled. I daydreamed about hanging out with the kids, about family outings and drinks in hotel bars and summer vacations and all and nothing at all.

Turns out the work I did wasn't any good. Anybody surprised?

Midsomer Goes Emmerdale

It's been a very good weekend back in Midsomer. Spring is so very spring-y there. And there are, as you may know from before, real live baah-ing lambs.


Hungry ones. Like baby Saga here, she's quite a handful.


But Wilhelm works her like a pro. Even when her mother tries to join in the fun. (Do you know how loud they are? It's crazy. They manage to make city dwellers feel pretty small.)


But my mother stays calm and steady as a rock. Surrounded by her flock, she talks to them soothingly and in a moment they're quiet again.


This is Ulla. She's a tough cookie. You just can't tell by looking at her. It's the lamb thing.


Saga just can't get enough, so she joyfully finishes up Ulla's bottle as well. Which Blanka thought was fun for about one minute...


...and then took a giant leap into her grandmother's arms. "Inte bita mig i lompan!" Better safe than sorry. And who can tell with creatures from the wild?

A great weekend, except for the part when Blanka threw up in the car on the highway two hours from Stockholm. Wilhelm immediately called his aunt: "I could see everything she had for dinner! It was pasta with salmon and candy."

What Would Leo Do in an emergency like that? Call for back up, most likely. Or Margaret. But now at least we know that distracting her with candy isn't such a great idea.

For F**** Sake

I am never buying cheap shoes again. Never ever again.

1. I am too old.
2. Life is too short.

I hereby declare that the petrol blue patent faux-croc kitten heels of last week are to be the very last in a sad succession of cheapo. Rest in peace, wedding crashers. You shall not be missed.

Leo would never wear cheap shoes. He's too successful and too much of a snob. Besides, Lord John Marbury would never cease to tease if he did.