Casablanca and Cinnamon rolls

"Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine."
It's not a love story I'm talking about, referring to the quote from Casablanca. I'm talking about five lovely, kind and (I'm sure, very soon) lemonade and cinnamon rolls serving mums.

While I was pregnant with my son, the county sent out invitations to all first time mums and their spouses in the district, to a meeting to prepare for birth and the life after. Six, pretty different couples, showed up. After the meeting, we hooked up on Facebook and all the "mums to be" arranged to meet a couple of times before our little ones arrived, to share worries and hopes. Now we meet for baby song classes, coffee (blocking the café entrance with our strollers) and chit-chat.

There is me - the one who will spice up her cinnamon rolls with for instance muscat, but then forget to put yeast in the dow. Then there is the one that always will add chocolate into them, the one who will get her rolls from the bakery, the one who will make them perfectly, according to the recipe in the cookbook, the one who will make them, perfectly, according to the "how to" on the "ready to bake cinnamon rolls"-box, and then the one who will have the freezer full of grannies baked goods.

They are all just lovely ladies, and I'm sure they all make the world a better place to live in. Their babies are lucky to have them as mums and I'm lucky to have them to turn to in this pretty unfamiliar world of motherhood.
Quoting Rick in Casablanca again: Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Stolen time and christmas taste

I've had time. Or rather, stolen time, to do those things. Watch the burning lights of the first sunday in advent, drink mulled wine, eat ginger snaps, smile to friends and hang that beautiful silver angel in the window.

The taste of almonds and ginger snaps has filled the afternoons lately, together with wrapping presents and finishing christmas calendars. I feel I've really, truly tasted the first days of christmas - chosen to taste them - enjoying the tastes, smells and music. Saving the every day joys and tastes for later - like for instance writing this blog.

And then, of course, I discovered that all the neighbours already put up their christmas lights (I forgot), and that most of my friends have eaten clementines for weeks (I didn't know they were any good yet). I suddenly felt a bit cheated. In the true spirit of christmas I decided to repress those thoughts and focused on this - my stolen christmas time and the taste of mulled wine, ginger snaps and almonds.

Wine and words

I've lately come to the conclusion that I slightly disagree on the saying "a picture says more than a thousand words". I would rather turn the saying around - a word could say so much more than a picture.

A picture is very defined in its form. Showing for instance a certain face, with a certain feeling, and with these exact colours. Words, on the other hand, are not always as defined.

If I say for instance, muslim, your head will fill with pictures, that again are supposed to contain more than a thousand words. In addition you will think of other words, as for instance: mosque, Egypt and Mohammed. They again contain other pictures.

In a way, words are also a bit more dangerous than pictures, because of the enormous amount of pictures they make people recall. The word-smith can't control which images the receiver conjures. A word that is relatively harmless in my head, "wine" for instance (I think of endless, beautiful vineyards, great tastes and good company), may come through as very appalling in other peoples minds (reminding them of, for instance, addiction, forbidden pleasures or awfully tasting beverages).

Not all words are as filled of pictures as the one I've mentioned. "As", for instance, a relatively uninteresting word, or what about "on"? Not the most interesting that either, but still - it might make you recall some pictures?
This is maybe why I love words so much - they are much like wine - complicated in their tastes. You can limit or expand them, by adding other words. Just as you can limit or expand a wine, by adding other tastes.

So today I toast with wine - to words! They are delicious and dangerous enough to celebrate. Try, for instance, the taste of "muslim wine".

Tea reminder

Dear reader
Just a reminder to you: in between granting all those christmas wishes, working and doing the dishes. Remember that nice, big cup of tea! It will save your life, the day and much more - especially with that warm "pain au chocolat" on the side! ;) Enjoy!

- Sarah

First party

Pretty invitations sent out - check, good food prepared - check, music creating a nice mood - check, flowers in a vase - check, beautifully decorated table - check, pretty dress - uncheck (appeared to be impossible while breastfeeding. Tights, a top and nice shoes instead), a tiny bit stressed after preparing food and decoration before and during the guests arrival - check.

Nothing is like a party. I love preparing for it, dress up a little more than usual, eat the food I've made, observe the guests having a good time while enjoying the food or just something nice in their glass or cup.

Today I served cinnamon rolls and lemonade, with marzipan cake and slices of whole grain bread with egg and smoked salmon on the side. All in honour of my little son Atlas. Now four months old, we felt it was time to celebrate his entering into the world and our family. So:

Baby dressed in tuxedo shirt - check, baby awake - uncheck (he decided to fall asleep five minutes before the guests arrived, after having stayed awake the entire morning), guests arriving i nice clothes - check, lighting and blowing out candles on cake, for Atlas - check, receiving presents - check, running up to fetch crying baby from his bedroom - check, staging "blowing out candles scene" again, this time with baby - check, open presents with baby - check, passing baby around - check, smiling and socialising - check, thanking guests for gifts and contribution to the party - check.

And at last: sitting down in sofa smiling and enjoying the silence after the guests have left - check.

Wrapping and marshmallows

Christmas is getting closer, and I'm happy to announce that a lot of friends and relatives are celebrating their birthday every fall. They give me an excellent opportunity to practise my wrapping skills and come up with ideas for The Christmas Wrapping of the Year (yes, I do not kid you).

A couple of days before christmas I lock my self in a room with loads of floor space, take a thermos with coffee with me and spend the whole day sitting on the floor, wrapping delicious presents. This is really one of the best things with christmas - buying or making gifts and wrapping them. Simply love it.

I always choose a theme. One year all presents were put in brown paper bags with hay working as ribbon, attached with a red seal. Another year I used gingerbread men as gift tags, tied with red ribbon to wrapping paper made of the boring looking business section of the newspaper. Another year I used leather and hide as paper, tied together with black or white silk ribbon.

Wrapping gifts tastes like grilled marshmallows - sweet. In addition it takes time to make them, but you really enjoy the result. It's also really tiresome when you're making a lot of them - and you get kind of sick of it in the end, but still you kind of love it.

The planning phase is probably the thing I enjoy the most, so even though I have plenty of friends and relatives to wrap presents to before christmas - if you're stuck and need ideas for your christmas wrapping this year, just ask. It's marshmallow-time!

Nothing and water

There was really nothing left. The fall darkness and cold weather had drained me for energy, light and "want". Coming home from work I was just an empty shell of nothing. The winters' and falls' biting weather and darkness really is evil.

I don't know where I found it, but somewhere in the nothingness I managed to find a tiny little "want" to work out. The seven minutes by car to the fitness centre looked like an eternity in my head, so even though it meant to actually have to enter the frosty fall evening, I aimed for a run with Atlas wrapt in warm clothing in the pram. The road from our kitchen table, via the walk in closet to get dressed for the run, to the front door was the worst, heaviest and really an awfully itchy thing to go through!

Starting to run, when I first managed to get out of the house, was so easy. Like ice cold water. When you're really thirsty there's nothing like it. You feel strangely alive after drinking it - and content. The freshness invigorates every part of your body, and even though you're so tired you're not sure you're body actually is there, under your head, you suddenly feel life tingle. First maybe, in a finger or toe, then, slowly spreading in towards the heart.

Entering the warmth of my house after the run, I found the want to write a little, light some candles, and maybe read a book. The shellness was suddenly gone, and instead there was this calm stream of peace filling the place - and the "want" for more water.