Design In A Boat

This picture comes from an event on "Contemporary Character Design" this week in Berlin. Thanks Daniel for making me happy with these chocolate men. Or ghosts. Or refugees. Or mushrooms. More on the event here.










Leo does not see the need for an event on Contemporary Character Design. Or chocolate ghosts in a boat.

Nah

I just came home from seeing Slumdog Millionaire. Eight Oscars, critically acclaimed, compelling story, motherless children forced into prostitution, dramatic scenery, great footage – that one. And it wasn't great! I'm not so much disappointed as I am surprised. It wasn't bad or terrible or boring, it was just, you know, ok. I didn't cry once. And that's something, coming from me. And did I mention the poor, abused and very pretty children running around everywhere in this movie? How could I not cry my eyes out?

It just wasn't that good. See the picture above? Does it make you go awwww? Me neither.

Leo would have hated it. Not that he would have told a soul (since it clearly hit home in Hollywood, and you never wanna rock that boat when you're running for office).

The Mister

My husband makes spectacular french toast. He thinks so too. "They're blog worthy" he told me. So here they are, in all their glory. They really are very, very good. The best way to start the weekend: I shock the body awake with masses of sugar, butter and blackberry jam.

If Leo had just one bite he'd have another heart attack. But it would be totally worth it.

Sweet Codependence

Brands and the relationships we have with them are fascinating things. I'm a copywriter, so obsessing and agonizing over this is pretty much how I pay the bills. But am I any wiser for being in the business? Sadly no. When H&M finally, after months of dark blues and browns, makes a pink t-shirt for boys, I feel a moral obligation to buy it. Yep, you heard me. A moral obligation. Because if I don't buy this, who will? If I don't dress my boy up in pinks and yellows and rainbows, who will?

So strong is the grip of the fashion giant that I feel like I'm doing them a favour when buying a t-shirt. "Awww, did you see that enormously talented and good hearted and intelligent and funny Anna Ander bought the pink t-shirt for her son? The one we were so unsure about? Now we must make more bright clothes for boys and never be stuck in that oldfashioned boy-girl thinking again!"

Yes, that's probably exactly what will happen.


I just hope that this little fella is cool enough for my little fella to wear. His sister really doesn't need another pink top.

Leo is a suit and tie guy and has never sat foot in an H&M store. And if I were Chief of Staff I'd probably shop elsewhere too.

My Obama Moment

Stockolm had a celebrity visitor yesterday in the unsung hero of the Obama campaign, mr David Plouffe. I was very excited. So were the 800 something others that gathered to hear the gospel. Mr Plouffe said many great things, but since this was Thursday (and not yesterday, as I might have led you to believe in that first sentence) and I can't find my notes anywhere (yes, I take notes at events like these, I'm just awful), this won't be the total report you might have been hoping for.


This is Mr Plouffe himself, looking terribly blurry. Supposedly some copywriter was shaking his hand like a crazy person while taking the picture. The lady in the back? No clue.

To tell the truth, he could have talked about Obama's socks and I still would have found it very interesting. I'm like Wilhelm, who's started to use "obama" as a new word, meaning "super cool" ("Mom, look at the obama-raft I built!"). In fact, I could go Ainsley Hayes on ya'll and add: I serve at the pleasure of the President. You know, should he ever find himself in need of a Swedish copywriter.

Leo finds all of this a bit too much. As happy as he is about the outcomings of the election, he is very much a Bartlet man. Me, I'm not so sure. I might have a whole new West Wing to follow.

Haha, this I remember: The Republicans thought Obama was so inexperienced that they called him Obambi.

Killing Me Softly

This isn't new. But I can pretty much guarantee that you'll never find anything "new" here. If you're looking for the latest, look elsewhere. But then again, if you're looking for something great, stay tuned.

His name is Kaah. The song is about a relationship falling to pieces and is called "Before you go". When we drive to my parents house in the countryside we drive through places just like these. So sad, so sad and so pretty.

Leo loves this song. In fact he's crying his eyes out right now and has asked Margaret to hold his calls.

Oh Joy!

There is something almost ridiculously exciting about receiving a parcel like this in the mail. Look at the stamps! See how someone has taped my adress on the front after printing it. Look at the Air Mail sticker! I'm ten years old again.


And that's probably how old I was the first time I read this. I loved it. And I haven't read it since, and never in English. Oh, this could be really good!


One episode – tops – of The Wire tonight, I need to tuck in early. Haha, I can't wait for ten o'clock!

Leo thinks I'm being just a little bit silly. Not to say emotionally challenged.

The New Zen

We found the house. And now we've sold the apartment. We've found a school for Wilhelm, but no pre-school for Blanka (she's number 90 on their list, muahahahaha). We're moving a whole lot sooner than we thought and la sweet cousine is getting married right in the middle of it, about a thousand miles away and my hotel reservation seem to have been cancelled. But do I fret? Is my neck all red and blotchy? Is there a hint of panic in my voice? Do you find me packing through the night? Oh, No. I'm positively buddhist these days. It's the new me. I'm so calm it's frustrating. And I love it.

Leo enjoys it too.

Really Very Interesting

Today is Question Day! I have haircuts on my mind, the middle aged haircut to be specific. There seem to be in Sweden a certain age when women cut their hair short. After which, with hardly any exceptions to the rule, they look like this:

This haircut is de rigeur for Swedish women after 40. And I wonder why? What happens that day at the hairdressers? Is it the Swedish woman's practical nature that wins a lifelong fight with vanity and just conquers all? For let me tell you, after this move there is no going back. This is the haircut Swedish women wear from here to eternity.

So tell me, will this ever happen to you? Does it happen to women where you live? Is there a male equivalent? And what would Leo do? Talk to me.

Daylight, Anyone?

We've been having a lot of this lately.


And though it's pretty in many ways, I'm having this big crazy ass craving for daylight. Call me a spoiled brat, but there it is. Please, please, please, bring on the light. Anytime soon.

Leo would fall off the wagon in two seconds if he had to endure a Swedish winter.