Category Archives: SMUG MOOSE

I have done it.

So I went to my client’s event and loved it. Every minute of it.

But the way there …

It all started at home, of course.

My two-weeks-ago-carefully-put-together outfit fell out due to one fact I had ignored when doing the sartorial maths. Luckily, I conjured the next outfit on the spot, as you would, and I still had enough time to check it out. Unluckily, the second outfit wasn’t good enough, either. I did tell you I had nothing to wear?!?!

Like in a fairy tale, it was the third outfit, born out of necessity (aka 5 minutes to go) that was good enough and made me feel well, so off I went.

Only to find myself in an old train half an hour later, wondering whether the 3 guys next to me were going to drink all that beer and what the strap of my brand new bag was doing down there. They didn’t, they were rather nice while sipping their beer, and the strap had gotten somehow detached from the bag – without my help.That something like this should happen!

So now what? What now so? Now what so?

Ahhh, my brain cell went, you have some safety pins in your kaputted bag – use them. So I did. The bag lasted till I made the first few steps in the small town I had been headed to.

Do you know Karstadt? It’s one of those warehouses that are going to be abolished because we all shop cheap things online these days (like bags). Anyway, there was a Karstadt near the venue I was headed for and they sold me a most lovely bag within minutes, made all the sympathetic noises while I told them about my stupid old bag, didn’t wince when I used their surfaces to empty the old bag and fill the new one and wished me a nice evening.

I threw away the old bag, what else and had myself a nice evening.

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Islandija in to.

Sredi vročega poletja se med sprehodom ob počasnem potoku spomnim reči: “Pa če petnajstko praznujeva v Islandiji?”

Edini razlog za to, da vsa drugačna, vsa neenakopravna na nespametno lakoničen način vztrajam na severni strani Črnega gozda, potrebuje samo nekaj sekund za strinjanje: “Ja, zakaj pa ne?”

Pa sva šla.

“Tukaj ni najbolj primerno mesto za delat samomor,” se pomirjujoče prodorno strinjata potnici na nabasanem vlaku, obstalem par metrov od najine vasi, “zid ob tirih je previsok, da bi ga lahko kdo preplezal.” Izkaže se, da je temu res tako, in vlak naju odpelje do mesta.

“Še dobro, da so ga našli,” me potolaži moj dragi, “predstavljaj si, če ga ne bi: tako vsaj veš, da svoje delo dobro opravljajo.” Vidno se strinjam, delno zato, ker se mi zdi, da me varnostnice na letališču še vedno malce opazujejo, medtem ko mi počasi izginja rdečica z lic. Ma če se ne bo kmalu nehal smehljati na meni tako znan način, ki naznanjuje, da ga že zdaj razmetava od bodočega smeha, jim bom kar povedala, da mi je zadevo oblike kreditne kartice, ki jo lahko zložiš v čisto ta pravi, oster nož, podaril kar moj dragi. Za vsak slučaj. Vsekakor sem ga čisto slučajno pozabila v denarnici.

“Islandija je šit!” po angleško v mikrofon simpatične mladenke prijavi čisto ta pravi, bradati islandski hipster v pristanišču v Reykjaviku. “Vso to čakanje na naslednji izbruh vulkana, gledanje kitov, dež-” Neham ga poslušati. Ne verjamem, da ima najbolj pametno predstavo o ceni bolj urbanega lajfa drugod. Islandija je v resnici prekrasna, vsaj če imaš tako veliko srečo kot midva in tam pristaneš v za september neobičajno sončnem obdobju. Islandci so tudi zelo izurjeni, prijetni ponudniki in izvajalci turističnih storitev in so naju pripravili do tega, da sva na koncu potovanja razmerje med ceno in kakovostjo opisala kot izvrstno. Prav res.

“Naše stranke igrajo zelo pomembno vlogo!” Zaradi vetra med vožnjo in ne preveč dobre kakovosti ozvočenja mi zvok njegovega govora gre na živce, ma to, kar pripoveduje privlačen španski mladec na ladji, s katero gremo iskat kite in delfine, je zanimivo. “Dokler obstaja dovolj zanimanja za gledanje kitov, je še mogoče vplivati na njihove lovce, ki jih prodajajo kot meso. Podpišite peticijo proti lovu na kite in ne hodite v restavracije, ki prodajajo kitovo meso, tako jih boste tudi vi pomagali ohraniti pri življenju. Islandci v veliki večini ne jemo kitovega mesa, samo en odstotek ga je in nikoli ni bilo priljubljeno. Se pa na veliko prodaja in ker je zakonodaja bolj ohlapna, je naš trud toliko bolj pomemben.”

Nič ne štekam. Reykjavik je eno od tistih čisto ta pravih nebes za hranoljubce. Tukaj že vegani pogosto dobijo hrano brez česna, da o drugih specialitetah niti ne molčim. Zakaj bi si kdo želel jesti kite? Ne verjamem, da so bolj poceni kot vrtoglavi zneski za prvovrstne gurmanske užitke na vsakem koraku, in tudi hrane za hvaljenje doma je več kot na pretek.

Na večer petnajste obletnice poroke sva tako romantična, da zamudiva polarni sij, ki osrečuje druge obiskovalce Reykjavika. Še zdaj mi je vseeno. Naslednjo noč se podava proti svetilniku, saj je napoved glede polarnega sija izvrstna, vendar se nama ta tokrat, skupaj z vsemi drugimi ponočnimi obiskovalci neosvetljenega rta ob robu mesta, izneveri. Noč je jasna, mrzla in divje romantična in briga me, ali se bo na nebu pojavila značilna zelenkasta svetloba ali ne. Samo, da sva.

Naj torej za trenutek odložim nakladanje in povzamem:

Čas: od ponedeljka do petka. Let iz FRA ob 13.30 (uradno ob 12.35, vendar po prejšnjem letu nekdo ni prevzel prtljage …) in iz RE ob 6.00 (vstajanje ob 2 h …). WOW air – krasen občutek. Lila letalo.

Kraj: Reykjavik, njegov zaliv in Zlati krog.

Prebivališče: hotel Oddson. Je tudi hostel, menda bivša industrijska zgradba. Zgleda krasno, ima vse, kar sva potrebovala, celo mašinco za kavo. Na strehi pod oknom se šopirijo škorci. Na vhodu je nekdo pripopal reklamo za Štajerce.

Živali: en kit (ščukasti kit – Balaenoptera acutorostrata), en delfin (?), kar nekaj ptic (strmoglavec, lumna, ledni viharnik, atlantski viharnik, gaga, mormoni samo kot plišaste živalce za knjižno polico).

Rastline: nekaj grmičevja, ki mu Islandci rečejo gozd. Mah in podobne čudovite zadeve. Slasten paradižnik iz rastlinjaka.

Hrana: krasna.

Pijača: … pivo od dragega zdaj še bolj prija. Krasen brezov liker po imenu Björk. Res!

Jezik: angleščina 🙂 Aja, pa “hvalagummi” pomeni gumijasti kiti (neke vrste gumijasti medvedki za Islandce. Torej ne to, kar bi si človek predstavljal pod imenom hvalagumi 😀 )

Muska: Honeymoon od Lane.

Fotke: na Instagramu in takoj zdej.

                                    


OOTD9: Party Time!

I must admit I don’t find the fact that we occasionally organize our own parties, just for the two of us, strange in any way. After all, it is nice to have a relaxed talk or a relaxing silence with someone you know while eating well, drinking merrily and wearing party clothes noone will comment upon because they get worn only for this purpose. Like really high heels: Continue reading


La dernière excursion – & OOTD

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Going Teetotal

I might not have told you that before, but I adore wine.

The problem is, I really don’t like alcohol. Or it doesn’t like me, depends on the perspective.

Anyway, instead of counting pros and cons every time I feel like drinking wine, I will be drinking wine for teetotallers in the future:

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(Haven’t tried any of them yet as they have just arrived, but my experience with sparkling wine shows there will be at least one sort somewhere along the shopping line I am going to love.)


OOTD8

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(organic cotton, organic yak, 9 cm)


OOTDs 6 & 7: Posh Moose, right?

It was cold outside, and quite grey, when I realized I wasn’t going to pass the economy exam: I didn’t understand anything we were supposed to learn during our Saturday seminar. At the same time, I felt unnaturally well. How come?

That day I found out I am a sucker for organic materials and non-poisonous clothes: it was my shirt that made me feel so well, a feeling I have been able to recreate and prove ever since. While “genetics” might be a strong word to use and probably not correct, I can still say I am a “natural born clothes snob” aka Posh Moose, right?

Anyway, I have been expanding my organic clothes treasure trove since that day and loving every piece of it. It’s a slow process because I don’t believe in organic cotton tees sold for 5 euro – what about the workers who made them? Did they survive? Can they eat? Breathe? This lack of belief in the necessity of textile workers torture for my own well-being (aka chock-full wardrobe) has lead to my cutting down on quantities purchased but also to some new, much beloved pieces of clothing  sharing my living space.

Like today’s OOTD 6 and OOTD 7: a pair of laser-designed jeans (noone died in the process of distressing them), combined with a cardigan (made of organic wool) my husband wanted to send back because of size issues. My favourite blouse (organic cotton) and a pair of trousers (not organic, but nice) my husband wanted to send back because of size issues.

After the jump. SFW.

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Sign of Times

“How about we choose 12 as our cooking orgy topic? You know, in each and every possible way. After all, twelve years seems to be quite a lot.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Well, the only thing I could complain of, but won’t, is that we’re both working too much and I don’t get to see you and do things together often enough.”

“True. But just imagine the other way around: What if you were happy for every minute you don’t get to see me by now?” 🙂

😆 “I find it very important, and I didn’t know I would, that we often like the same films and books, like Terry Pratchett, Neal Stephenson and Galactica and so on. At least the tiny part of our lives called leisure is well spent. And of course, the everyday life – you know my definition of a real man: a real man simply does the dishes or irons his shirt without attaching any ideological or psychological damage whatsoever to the process.”

“Mhm.”

Later that day I wonder how feminist our smug talk about our wedded life actually was.

 


I lost my heart in Dalsland. Again.

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Things Happen, No?

Howdy. … Or something.

After having ticked off the survival of this year’s autumn exhaustion successfully (I needed an additional round of workout, though, it must be the age) I am somewhat lost for words … Oh, I know: I must have used them all up to write my uni homework, describing in too many words why person A needn’t pay the purchase price. Lucky bastard: most of us have to.

Not an easy task, studying at home: while I love being independent, I fear I spend too much time searching for information that should simply be available in bulk … On the other hand, when have you last attended a uni seminar wearing a roller in your hair? Exactly.

I must wonder whether I do this on purpose, just to relive the good olden times, when thinking about Kant made me ignore both friends and traffic signs: after having paid my bills and stuff, I turn around to see if anybody’s waiting for me to finish my electronic papirology (nope, dear hackers, I do not bank online) and see a nice lady so I smile in her direction and she smiles back. I take my papers and my wallet and leave, only to remember I am also carrying a handbag today. So I turn and smile apologetically at the nice lady, who looks a bit shattered. “One of those Saturdays” I admit, grip my bag and walk home to finish my seminar paper on not needing to pay. Damn.

Oh, and all the big plans for tomorrow! Polish the parquet and the wardrobe fronts, finally try sewing with my wonderful new sewing machine, finish the seminar paper and get to read a bit.

Very warm here. Like: almost T-shirt and sandals warm. When the nice DHL girl told me this morning they have switched to the Christmas season regime I couldn’t help but exclaim. “Already!?!?” She told me they do that on 1. November and I realized we have November now. So that’s where all the flowers have gone.

Ahhh, and the November sun! Just imagine being able to say that: November sun! It makes all the garish orange, pink and salmon houses in our little town shine sort of beautifoolishly. Not bad at all, I really have to take care not to go down a notch or two in my taste …

Just one more annual exhaustion to tick off and then it’s Christmas.

fancy