Oh yeah spring!

Oh yeah spring!, originally uploaded by karlakp.

Yesterday I found shopping nirvana. Well, almost. I could have used some shoes. But, after an over TWO MONTH shopping dry spell (this is UNHEARD of in Karla Land) I finally hit pay dirt and got some very fun stuff at H&M.

They have a collection of items that are a tribute to Marimekko, the famous, bright prints from Finland that took over the world in the 60's. They are very funky and not to everyone's taste. However, they had me from "hello" once I saw the wonderful full skirts with tiny fitted waists. THIS is a silhouette I can wear and wear well. I am the original "sweater girl' figure, and these wasp waisted skirts, worn with a tight t shirt, are perfect for me. I am a fairly adventurous dresser, at least in the sense that I wear what I like and looks good on me, and don't follow trends that don't work, so I have no problem AT ALL wearing a big fun bright skirt like the orange and black one. (And hello! MATCHING BAG! With leather trim! How much do I love that???) They also had a bunch of maxi dresses and assorted tunics and trousers, but somehow I don't think the pants would look at all good on me, with those big prints. I might try out a dress or two, though, maybe belted they might work.

Anyhow, I give H&M kudos for doing something adventurous, fun and entirely out of the ordinary. After so many months of everything looking 'same same', all greys and tasteful (boring) taupes and that damned skinny jeans silhouette, I was starting to get a bit desperate, and, sadly, depressed. I thought maybe the shopping mojo had left me, or perhaps, GASP, I was reaching a point where I was too old and jaded for anything to interest me.

This collection at H&M has revived my fashion interest, and I can't thank them enough for getting me out of the doldrums...affordably!

Not Wanna Madonna

Madonna's "self created" line for H&M came out in stores yesterday. I went to check it out, and was whelmed. Not overwhelmed, not underwhelmed, just whelmed.

Of course, the only thing I was interested in, that dress on the left there with the black and cream, was nowhere to be found. The whole collection was in shades of black, cream, some white and a tiny bit of pink in one patterned dress. I hate to say it, but I was pretty bored. The collection seems to be for women a little older than me, and this was certainly born out by the number of ladies in their late 40's to mid 50's shoving me out of the way so they could get at what they wanted. It all definitely reminded me of what my mom wore in the 70's...soft silky jersey dresses, things with sheen that are soft to the touch. Nice feeling, but who, honestly, can wear cream colored silk charmeuse knickerbockers? Not anyone I know. And there were a few things that were just plain...boring. Like the one dress, in stark white, that resembled nothing more or less than a nurse's uniform? Oy.

I did like the long black dress and the cream trench coat, but I already have long black dresses and I got a trench coat that was much more interesting from Stella McCartney's line for H&M. It seems like every guest designer for H&M does a trench. Collect 'em all and swap with your friends!

I think, if you are a hottie like Madonna in your late 40's to 50's, wanting something safe and not too challenging, this collection is great for you. If you have any extra weight on you whatsoever, forget it. The shiny fabrics will make you look like beach balls fighting in cellophane. Especially those knickerbockers.

stuff that happened in Paris

I feel like bullet points on this one.

• Everywhere we went we saw the entourage of the visiting President of Mongolia. He was driven around at a fast clip in a navy blue Peugeot, followed by 5 more of the exact same car. In the lead were at least 6 motorcycle cops and following behind all the motorcycles and Peugeots were two largish vans with big windows, filled to overflowing by the faces of desperate Mongolians taking pictures of everything they could as Paris whizzed past their windows. I think all their pictures must have been a blur. We saw them fly up to Notre Dame, then race past the Eiffel Tower, and then later the next day I saw the whole crowd shooting up the left bank of the Seine, sirens whining, Peugeots Peugot-ing, lights blinking and desperate cameras flashing plaintively at whatever they passed at street level.

• Our flight arrived in Paris at 9:15 am. I wanted to take a walking tour at 11am. In order to do this, I had to ask Rich to please take our luggage on ahead to the hotel while I ran to catch the tour. He very kindly did so, which enabled me to join a wonderful tour of the fashion history of Paris, taking in two century old shopping arcades, the Palais Royal and the legendary shop owned and run by Didier Ludot (on the premises that day and very tall and distinguished looking indeed)(scroll half way down the somewhat pretentious link for good photos and info). There are no prices in the window, it is very much the sort of place where if you have to ask you can't afford it. It is also by appointment only. Bummer, I would have loved to have checked it out. The owner was in and was rearranging his windows with the most marvelous dresses. We paltry tourists were ignored with nary a glance. We also went to Marc Jacobs new shop, a few doors down, and I scored a t shirt (ironically it says "London" with an image of a double decker bus on it) and a canvas bag. I figure I'll get a "Paris" t-shirt at Marc Jacobs when I go to London. The people in that shop were very nice and I got teased by the other ladies (ALL ladies) on the tour for my guerilla style of shopping. Hey, years of practice with an impatient husband has made me fast.

• Was that the longest bullet point ever or what?

• On that tour I was recruited to join a ladies expat social group by a British lady in a strange hat. I was flattered, but also mystified. It's a legit and fairly highbrow group, I have no idea what they want with a tattooed, trash talkin', beer swillin' Texan like me. anyhow, she made me SWEAR that if we ever move to Paris (the chance exists) that I look her up.

• After the tour I walked allllll the way from the Palais Royal, past the Louvre, and the Place Concorde up the Champs Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe, near which was our hotel. I realized as I finished that it was maybe a bit too much for me, having not walked that far in months, and wearing my cute, comfortable- but- not- for- 7- mile- walks, knee high black leather pirate boots. My feet were KILLING me.

• Rich and I met at a cafe near the hotel after my walk where we proceeded to start an evening of wine drinking that ended in about 6 bottles downed between the two of us. I also had a "when in Rome" moment and bought some smokes. Hell, I was drunk, we both smelled of cigarettes anyhow, and I WAS in Paris. Rich was tolerant of my smoking, something he generally would NEVER be. Must've been all that good wine.

• Every person we dealt with, whether at a restaurant, a shop or wherever, was extremely nice and we were not treated rudely once. I attribute this to the fact that we were both fairly well dressed (no jeans or sneakers for Rich, me all in black all the time and carrying my FAB purse) and we both made sure to bon jour the hell out of everyone we met wherever we went. The French always will greet you and acknowledge your entry into a place, and say "pardon" for every real or imagined infraction of space or etiquette. I found it very refreshing after living for so long in Norway where you might get a "beklager" (sorry) but only if someone knocks into you really hard.

• The first day and a half were relatively warm, the last day and a half were cold, but only because I did not dress warmly enough. Whenever I leave Norway I get this mindset that "I'm not in Norway, it won't be that cold" and then end up freezing my ass off as it IS cold, or at least cold enough to warrant more than the light jackets I bring. It also drizzled alot, but we were both armed with parapluy's.

• Our hotel room was so small that one of us had to sit in the middle of the bed if the other wanted to move around the room. The bed was not very big either. Luckily the front desk girl was extraordinarily sweet and moved us into a junior suite our last night (of three) and that made a huge difference. She would have moved us earlier but the place was fully booked.
  

heat wave!

It's gonna be minimum 30 degrees F warmer in Paris than here...at time 40 degrees!

I don't know if I should pack the swimsuit or not!

Maybe not...as it's 18F here now.....but it sure makes 48 seem like spring, don't it?


I'm getting my packing together and for this trip I am planning an all black and white pallet based on the awesome graphic damask prints that are out right now...people used to pay me to stencil those on their walls, and now they are freaking EVERYWHERE. My art was ahead of its time, what can I say?

Anyhow, as part of this fashion plan, I have re-acquainted myself with leggings. Yes, leggings. I always did love them, just not in the 80's way with just a big shirt over them. That looks lazy and like you forgot your pants. Oh no, I like them peeking out from under a dress with mary jane flats, or worn with a short skirt and boots. Or, as I have been doing lately, a sort of multi-level multi-layer thing with a lace-edged slip worn with another, shorter dress over that, all tightly belted. So that you have the legging going to the ankles, the slip to the knees and the dress three inches or so over that. I like the way it looks, for me at least. The key is to keep the colors (in my case, black, always black) simple and let the layering speak for itself.

And I am eyeing this awesome bag with a very similar print to the one in the picture, but it's in patent leather...how cool is that?

I mean, it's PARIS, and I must pay attention to my wardrobe, musn't I? One great thing about living in Scandinavia is that even though the fashions here tend to be very same-same, if you do want to experiment it's a great atmosphere for it. The chain stores do have small fashion forward collections that are at least a year ahead of the US. You just have to dig for them.....

In which this week finally kicks my ass

Fuck. (I mistyped that us "Fuick" which oddly pleases me, like a Buick gone bad.)

This will not be a penis weekend.

My friend that I was going with is sick and she cancelled on me. And I really didn't have the balls (haha) to go alone. I'm not mad at her, I understand being sick, but I was bummed because i was REALLY looking forward to tonight. It's been a shit week.

Fuick.

The theatre was nice enough to let me exchange the tickets for another night next week. This could be because I called them practically in tears, all "I can't see the penises tonight and I am so DEPRESSED and it's been HORRIBLE week and PLEASE can I exchange them?" Luckily it was a woman who was the ticket agent and she understood my penis angst, so she kindly said that if I got my unhappy ass over to the theatre ASAP she would exchange them for me. As it was almost end of work day and I had pretty much cleared up my stuff at work, I hotfooted it over there and she exchanged them for me, I even got better seats! It was all women working there, and I joked around with them and told them that I had been looking forward to the penises all week, and was even wearing my penis viewing outfit. That got a good hearty laugh out of them.

If you are curious what a penis viewing outfit is, in MY case (I am sure this varies from person to person) it was a black sweater dress with a deep v-neck, under which I wore a black slip with lace at the top. This was all worn over black tights with knee high black pirate boots. Over all this went my embroidered black Cavalli coat with the Persian lamb edging all over collar, cuffs and hem, tightly belted, Russian style. I looked, on hindsight, a bit like a really high class, yet modest Russian hooker. Appropriate for the viewing of penis puppets, no? Well, no, as I don't get to see them tonight.

Crappy crappy week. I need beer.

One million and one things before 5pm

So tonight we are going to Rich's company's big New Year party. It's really the same as most people's annual Christmas party, except in late January, my theory being they have it because it's cheaper then. This is fine with me as it gives us something to look forward to in the winter doldrums. We get to dress up and they ply us with alcohol until we can't move, in true Norwegian hospitable tradition. It's always a good time. What's not to like?

Anyhow, I am all in a flutter as I have a million things to do to get ready for it. I will wear this dress, so at least I have that part figured out. But that is about ALL I have figured out. So, before 5 pm I must:

*Shave every available bit of myself that I have been ignoring as it's winter and who is gonna see my bare legs anyhow?
*Self pedicure.
*Self facial. Rinse. Repeat.
*Moisturize like crazy.
*Find contacts, put them in and get used to them.
*Self body scrub.
*Condition hair.
*Find way to mitigate the copper disaster of Thursday. Not possible..FUCK!
*Decide to wear hair up? Or down? Hate it either way and wear it same way as usual...big like all proud Texas gals.
*Makeup makeup makeup. Bemoan own suckage at applying eyeliner.
*Choose jewelry. Gold from Turkey? A necklace I made? Ropes of pearls?
*Figure out what to wear under and over very thin silk dress so that I can venture outside to catch train without literally freezing own tits off. Will probably have to wear leggings and boots under and remove upon arrival.
*Pack bag with things I might need, ie., cute shoes, eye drops, make up, glasses, aspirin, etc.
*Lose 10 lbs.
*Lose 10 years.
*Etc.

So that's what I need to do. Here's what I actually have been doing.

*Listening to iPod and dancing around house. new favorite song is a remix of a Goldfrapp song that so totally moves my ass, it's not even funny.
*Went to the local Turkish store and bought some Turkish cheese, Turkish delight, Turkish squash (no, I did not know they had their own squash either) and pomegranates. I do not know what I will make of these. Said thank you to the man at the cash register in Turkish. Was proud of myself, for about 1 second, until he started speaking Turkish back to me at a great speed, at which point I said thank you again and then left the joint with a sheepish grin.
*Made breakfast casserole for tomorrow in anticipation of hungover need for cheese, eggs and carbs.
*Got coffee at favorite coffee place.
*Got Boller at bakery. Nummy.
*Cleaned oven (yes, for real, what am I, a freak?)
*Cleaned microwave.
*Cleaned bathroom.
*Did two loads of laundry.
*Advised Rich on his wardrobe choices and sent him off to buy a new tie that did not have red stripes on it or look prep school. All his ties look exactly the same to me. It must be the male version of women's 100 pairs of black shoes.
*Did this blog post.

I will apparently do ANYTHING (clean the oven? Whafuck?) to avoid beautifying myself today. However, I will now get to it as I've run out of stuff to write about.....

annoying

Badger and Bookhart both just did posts about things that annoy them.

Here's my two cents. Possibly, four.

Blogger. Blogger is pissing me off. I hate this new google log in system. I hate the fact that I have to use an email address to log in instead of just a user name as before. I also hate hate HATE those word verification thingies...I can never read them, they are way too long and they are a pain in the ass. Blogger is also still slow, and my blog is loading much slower than it used to so that annoys me as well.

Cold. It's really fucking cold outside. Like last night it was ZERO. FAHRENHEIT. That's fucking cold.
Ice. Ice goes with cold and I can't walk on it, so it pisses me off too.

Hair. Right now I am hating my hair. I spent, like, 1400 kroners today on getting highlights. I wanted blonde and copper in chunky streaks. I also wanted to have my grey covered...I seem to be sporting a grey streak right in the front of my scalp. Instead I got just sort of an overall red with no streaks, and the grey is still totally there. I should have just fucking gotten the 65 kroner box of Foxy Brown at H&M and done it myself....it would not have been very different.

People who don't say excuse me when they run into you or acknowledge your existence as they push past you. Also, bitch at Noa Noa today? Yeah, you? Um, maybe instead of reaching in front of me and shoving me out of the way because you wanted that shirt on that rack that I was standing in front of, you could have waited a half a fucking second or so for me to move on. Because, yes, I do exist and I am fairly large....so trying to pretend I'm invisible WON'T work. Instead, it's gonna get you a very dirty look and a "tsk tsk".

The TV show "Ugly Betty" and the movie "Devil Wears Prada". While these are both great, entertaining and well written, I get very annoyed with normal, healthy women being referred to as fat.** Size 6 is NOT fat. Size 10 is NOT fat. Hell, size 14 is NOT fat. I'm so sick of this obsession with thinness. People come in many shapes and sizes and people need to accept and appreciate the beauty in being different. Not all of us are size 4, and I for one like having an ass and boobs and a sexy softness about me. Gives me something to shake on the dancefloor.

My knees. My knees are older than me. I was dancing last Friday night and the next day my knees were NOT happy.

Pretty much everything happening politically in the US, with the exception of Barak Obama, who is very impressive. I think I am most annoyed with people who are against something or have moral issues with something (abortion, gay marriage) and so want to make it illegal for EVERYONE. Why do I have to be imprisoned by your beliefs? Back off and let me go on with my life. You don't know me and have no right to tell me what to do if it has no bearing on your life. Thanks.

People who beg for money because they say they are hungry, so you offer them food, and they refuse it saying that they want money. Well then don't ask for money to buy food if what you really want is cash!

Socks. I am really sick of wearing socks.

So now I am going to take a chill pill, a hot bath and have a glass of wine. All at the same time.

**You go Tyra! Who might I add, is similar in height AND weight to me...which means I am a supermodel.....right?

SnoBloTiThro (SnotBlowTissueThrow)

I am not doing this.

For two reasons. 1) I will traveling the WHOLE month and so can't really say I will be able to. And 2) I really, truly can't STAND these hip abbreviations of things. NaBloPoMo? NaNoWriMo? In Austin they now call the South Congress area "SoCo". So would my house in Austin be in WesAus? And folks in Round Rock are in RoRo? People in Georgetown GeTo? Come on, people, USE YOUR WORDS....in full.

While I am on this high horse (and at my age it gets harder to get up there so you might as well stay a while) is anyone else totally and completely SICK of Kate Moss? I mean, DAY-um. She's in every freaking fashion ad in Vanity Fair, every damned photo spread in Vogue, I am so sick of her I could barf. She dates a total loser, lives like a spoiled 18 year old, yet somehow she manages to still be the muse of so many fashionistas? I just don't get it. And I've never thought her to be that gorgeous, either. Versatile, perhaps, but I just never liked her that much. So, Burberry, etc? I won't buy your stuff merely because La Kate is wearing it...I need something better. And possibly less...common?

On to the next rant......

My frigging cold will NOT let go of me. In fact, here's a haiku about yesterday:

Vivid yellow snot
Explodes from my nostril holes.
I am walking death.

Here's another, just for colorful emphasis. Let know one say I am not SE-XY!

Shade not from nature.
Gelatinous Gatorade?
My tissue is full.

Or how's this?

No one on the train
Sits next to girl with snot rags.
Railroad pariah.

Today I get to spend the day waiting for the cable guy and the floor heating guy. Even though our cable broke from no fault of our own and the only way to get it fixed is to get a home visit, always a last resort in Norway, I bet we pay through the congested NOSE for the privilege. They are doing a building wide check of the floor heating, and sent out these notices where they say "we are checking the floor heating in every flat. If you can't be there leave a key with your neighbor". I'm all like, what? Huh? Then how do I get into the building myself? Cuz I need the key to get in! And what if their times are not good for us? jeez....

I think I am most cranky because I have to pack. I have to pack a month's worth of stuff that will cover trips to: Pennsylvania, Houston, Austin and my parents place in the Ozarks. This means encompassing my high school reunion, Thanksgiving, a baptism, sloppy clothes for painting at my brother's new house, and weather ranging from below freezing to really very warm (it wass 85 in Texas last week).

Well, I'll do my usual. Jeans, boots, my sparkle jacket, the dress for the reunion (can work for t-giving and baptism as well) and a variety of t's and accessories. Plus the variety of little gifties I always try to bring,though not near the haul I brought from SouthEast Asia. Must remind self can buy whatever I need in the US.

Gotta go blow nose. But first, must clamber down from horse. These old bones are creaky today.

ggrrgggsniffbleagh

So yesterday I went to the local Apotek (pharmacy) so see if I could find ANYTHING to help me with this cold/plague. Besides a small and expensive selection of weak cough medicines and nose sprays, there wasn't much. Norway has very strict rules on medicines, and so stuff like Nyquil (which contains alchohol) and most of the sinus stuff (which has stuff to make you sleepy or just feel floaty) you could buy in the US is verboten. (Norway's alcohol rules are so strict that rubbing alcohol is sold by prescription here, in case someone would use it to make moonshine. Seriously. I shit you not.) And dammit, I wanted some good old- knock- me- on- my- ass SOMETHING to make me forget who I was and blowtorch the snot right outta me.

No luck. I bought whatever they had, but really, saltwater nasal spray (called, humorously enough for me, Miwana, like "Me wanna nose spray!") or even Otrivin (yet another nose spray that works for a bit, but doesn't solve my myriad other problems) just does not give me the yaya's that a good heapin' does of Sudafed or Contac does. Dammit.

So there I was after my trip to the Apotek. I was in my sweats, with my scummy old sheepskin lined Ugg slides and my horrid but warm down coat that feels like a walking duvet, shuffling through the little shopping center and blowing continuously into a ragged tissue, when I saw a Fashion Gal of the first order. She had on her beautiful warm toned expensive brown sweater, her just perfect jeans tucked into fierce boots and she carried the latest Chloe Paddington bag, the one with the big lock on it (that I have looked at in the shops, but that lock weighs like 2 lbs and I'll be damned if I want a purse that's even HEAVIER than what I already carry and has a big stupid lock on it). And I'm looking at her sashaying around, and I'm thinking, "Hey! HEY! I'm a Fashion Gal too, you know! Just because I am having an off day and feel like death warmed over and look like the village idiot, does not mean that you are any more fabulous than me! I'm just on a break! A break from fabulousness! You just wait til I feel better! I've got nice handbags at home, too, you know! I'm just too sick to carry one right now!"

I hate being caught on an off day. Whatever. I blew my nose and shuffled home in a fog of snot, dizzyness and chills. I promise I will return to fabulousness next week. This week? Lost cause.

a little ranting, a little kvetching, and some dancing

I am endlessly entertained by the "readers respond" section of the Aftenposten. There's always something fun there. The first letter? About orange pee? In response to this article? Hilarious! And the second letter, by a guy named Gary Barrett? In response to this article? Well, let's just say he's my new hero, because if ONE MORE person shoves me, pushes me or cuts me off on the train to get the last seat even though I am OBVIOUSLY heading for it, I will go postal on someone's ass. Seriously, how hard is it to stand back and wait for people to get OFF the train before you get on? In England if someone behaved this way on the Tube they would get a right good telling off. So Gary Barrett? You rule. Really.

That was the rant.

Now for the kvetch:
I am wearing a sweater that is so itchy it is actually itching me through a whole other shirt. What the fuck? How can a sweater be sold that itches so bad that it goes through layers of clothes with its itchiness and scratchy nastiness? DAMN! And it's really cute, too, but I think I have to get rid of it. This is inSANE. I hate fall and having to cover up again. Summer was so nice. Just a tank top and off you go. I haven't itched in months. Damn. It's back to the season of scratch.

(karla removes sweater....aaaahhh.)(brr. now I'm cold.)

Now for the dancing. Every so often I hit iTunes to get me some more booty shakin' music, to help me motivate for the workouts and also, just to sort of keep up with the times. I mean, I'm aging here, folks, and gotta make an effort to keep up with the young un's. Though I fear what I buy is all still old person music.

Here's what I got yesterday:

Daft Punk, Technologic
Peaches, Tent In Your Pants
Goldfrapp, Strict Machine and Oh La La
Fischerspooner, Emerge (DFA Remix)
Scissor Sisters, Comfortably Numb
and, of course, the most recent episode of Project Runway. Is Vincent insane or what?

And in the other news that is making me dance, that I am not ranting about AND that does not make me itch or kvetch....to the left, there, that purple majestic dress in front? Ta Da!!!!! I found the dress for the reunion! Woo! WOO! It's by this Danish designer called Malene Birger, and it ROCKS, yo'. It's silk in this graphic print with purple, green and yellow, and it's got a full skirt and a tie waist and it sort of manages to be sexy yet covered up all at once. It has one button at the neck and then one at the waist, so the middle is open, but underneath it has a slip to wear under it so the girls don't do a J Lo and need to be taped down. Long sleeves with little cuff links. All floaty silk charmeuse. Cleavage, class and sass, aw yeah. AND it matches the yellow Coccinelle bag and shoes to perfection. I didn't want to wear yet another black dress...and DAMNED if I didn't find color! They have to special order it for me from Denmark because apparently this is THE dress of the season (trust me to pick the one thing that is hard to get) and all the size 42's in all of Oslo are sold out as it's running small. But there is one on the way to me (the lady who owns the shop really went out of her way for me, and I LOVE her) and judging by how the 40 fit, I am fairly certain it's gonna be perfection.

I'm psyched now......armed and ready. I've decided that the goal, here, is not to look 20 years younger, but to look 20 years BETTER. At least I feel better in my own skin than I did when I was 17.....

Also? Bookhart just posted some of the funniest links ever, all in one perfect linkylicious post on her blog. I am especially snorting coffee over the one about euphemisms for female masturbation, but all are equally hi-larious. Her blog constantly reminds me why I thought she was the coolest girl in the dorm when I met her in 1986. Fuck, dude, that's 20 years ago last month! I've known you more than half my life! LYLAS, beeyotch!

Stuff I was thinking

A random post...I offer no guarantees as to transitions, where my thoughts might head or what the hell I am talking about.

Mascara: I have two mascaras, both of which i love but both of which are very diffferent. One is Great Lash, that Maybelline stuff in the pink and green tube. Classic, waterproof, a little crispy on the lashes, small wand that I tend to poke in my eye by mistake, but a good solid choice.
The other one is called 'Backstage' by Dior, and I luuurve that one. The brush is HUGE and will cover your eyelashes if you even wave it in the vicinity of your face. As someone who is VERY nearsighted, mascara can get a bit tricky, what with the trying not to poke your eye out and concentrating on seeing and stuff. So I appreciate a good big mascara brush. If you are nearsighted, try this one out. Get the waterproof kind, though. I got the non waterproof and it can get leaky pretty fast, even from slightly teary eyes.

Coffee: I go to the nearby 7-11 (if someone will explain to me WHY there are 7 Narvesens and three 7-11's on every corner in every Norwegian town I would REALLY appreciate it...isn't one of each enough? I mean, there are two 7-11's and two Narvesens within 500 feet of each other right at my train station!) every morning for my coffee and bun. The guy that works there is SO nice. SO NICE. He always greets me with this eager bob of his head and a "go' morn". I luurve him too. I luurve him more than the mascara.

TV: So Rich was reading the Entertainment Weekly that we religiously subscribe to (we call it the Bible), and there was a list in there of TV that you must watch to have a perfect TV viewing week. American shows, mind you. He read out to me the shows...and 80% of them show here in Norway. Granted they are all a season late, and the TV channels here show them at really wierd random times, so that you have a hard time keeping up with when things are on...but they are almost all accounted for. I wonder how Norwegians feel, their TV being co-opted by American shows (in English, too, with Norwegian subtitles, leading, I think, to a nation of very fast readers), the shops all carrying American items, Burger King and McDonald's almost as prevalent as the 7-11's? Hey, we LOVE the TV being all American, PLUS we get BBC Prime and Food, but still, American pop culture is a total virus.........

Clothes: I wore leggings today. Yeah, leggings. 80's style, with black mary janes? I caved. They've been everywhere in the magazines, I swore I would not do it, but I caved. Now, granted, I would not be caught DEAD wearing leggings as, say, pants? Because my nearly 40 year old self knows there is nothing cute about a baggy sweater or a jacket over leggings, and honestly, it wasn't even cute in the 80's. But they are handy under a skirt when you don't want to commit to tights but want to still have something covering your legs. So I wore them under this black satin bias cut dress with a shorter, belted sweater dress over that. It was all very fitted and sort of multi-layered asian looking. With leggings. Yes, leggings. Sigh. Hey, I already bought the skinny jeans, might as well be a fashion robot and go all out. Besides, I wanted to wear the mary janes and they only ever look right to me either with leggings or white socks. Once 80's, always 80's.

I draw the line at the return of the stirrup pant though......

And I still haven't found a dress for the reunion.

Food: Tonight, out of some random boredom and desperation for something vaguely healthy for dinnner, I created the following dish:

Take some chicken breasts, drizzle with olive oil. Drag them through ground up tortilla corn chips that are seasoned with cumin, chili powder, garlic and pepper. Make sure breasts are coated in the chips a la Shake and Bake. Take a glass baking dish and dump a can of black beans in there, juice and all, sprinkle with chopped (or dried) onions. Place the chicken breasts on the bed of beans. Bake for 25 minutes to half an hour at around 375. (The oven was at 190 celsius).

Serve on a bed of rice, or spinach or salad. Yum. Sour cream makes a good garnish.

Exercise: I am sore from my workout yesterday. But good sore. I will go again tomorrow. I felt SO GOOD after my workout yesterday, I always have to remind myself how good it feels after. And what an absolute BITCH it is to make yourself go at first. But I did a good 25 minutes on the rowing machine at highest setting , and then another 15 on the elliptical, on level 7, 'glute workout'. THEN I lifted weights. I am sort of confused at how I have these totally strong stomach muscles, I can go forever on stomach exercises, yet my shoulders? Weak as a kitten. I swear, I was dying lifting 15 kilos on the shoulder killer machine. Embarrassing. A 6 year old kid could do better than me. I used to have good shoulders, I am not sure what happened.....but I wonder if I can get them back by November?

I am a pervert

Today, coming back from an exhausting day of shopping where I did NOT find the perfect thing to wear to my 20th high school reunion......(here is where the large digression starts)......

but the perfect thing to wear to my 20 year high school reunion may well be an impossibility, as does such a thing exist that will remove 20 lbs, 20 years and the accumulating ravages of those years? Me thinks not. But I try. I have decided that I think I want a Diane Von Furstenberg classic wrap dress. Always wanted one, they look great on me, and it's time to splash out the money. A basic not so great dress here costs as much as a DVF stateside, so why not just get the DVF? Well.....I don't know where to find one in Oslo. Damn. And I don't have time to get one in Houston before the reunion as we get into Houston the night before.....unless i can make a run for the Galleria and get one there...and maybe get my hair done and my ass lifted as well? Surely they can do that in a few hours, right? I mean, how hard can this 20 year reunion thing be?

Ok, so I digressed, but I am really stressed about this and I have to find just the right thing that balances comfort and fabulousness with fashion-edginess. I was sort of known for my clothes in high school, you see. Gotta keep the image up....even if the ass isn't.

DAMNIT I digressed again....

OK, so on the way home from my disappointing shopping experience where I did NOT find the right thing, though I did find a couple of alternative things of interest....all black, natch.....I walked by a little table of collectible ceramics, etc., that a local lady was selling. I do have a thing for vintage glasswear, though i have been restraining myself from buying anything these past few years as, well, it all has to get moved anyhow, so what's the point? Ah, but then I saw this plate, this very collectible child's plate from the thirties and I knew I had to have it........

I mean.....just WHAT is that lamb doing to the boy and why does he have that sort of focused expression on his face? I just LOVE this plate, it's so thirties charming and innnocent and yet totally perverse....or, once again, is it just me that is such a sick puppy? Maybe I should keep my sick mind to myself? .......Here's a close up....(insert porn music of your choice here)....



I've entered an alternate world, people. I am Sick Disney. Anti-Disney. Disney as seen through the eyes of Marilyn Manson.

Anyone wanna come join? It's kind of fun here......

I am annoyed with Project Runway

For those of you living outside the US, this might be a boring post, as it's about a US TV show that I am addicted to and download every week..... Project Runway. They just finished Season two here in Norway, but Season three is well on its way in the US right now.

Ok, so I am totally annoyed with Project Runway. This latest episode? A design for the "everyday woman". What the FUCK is an "everyday" woman? I guess an everyday woman is one that you see everyday, an average, nondescript, not size two woman? Of which more than 50% of us are? What does that make a model, then? A holiday woman?

The designers were MOANING about how they didn't know how to do the proportions for a bigger woman. Well, guess what? Most women are NOT models and maybe, just maybe, you should learn how to design for people outside your little narrow confines? Considering they will be the ones to buy your stuff if you ever make it as a designer? Grrr....

I mean, really. I'm not as big as many of the women on the show, but I am certainly not a size two, and I am incensed at their attitude. And I would like to SLAP Jeffrey for being so horrible to his "client" and am amazed he was not voted off for that cheap looking disaster he came up with. It looked like a janitor's outfit in dress form. UGH!

Roberts outfit wasn't all that and a bag of chips, but at least it was real world wearable, unlike Jeffrey's. Robert made his client happy. Jeffrey made his cry. Who deserves to get voted off, hmm? Who would have been FIRED had she been a real client? I also thought Vincent's dress was surprisingly nice, but let's face it, he's stuck in the 80's. Everything he has made has been 80's.

Grrr....everyday woman. That just annoys me. It's really kind of insulting and I am surprised Bravo didn't see that. They could have used a different term.....How about Modern Woman? Or just EVERY woman? I mean, who decides what an everyday woman is or not?

Well, this "everyday woman" is off to London. For me, right now, my plans include beer, every day, and fish and chips, every day and trips on the Tube, every day, and walks in Hyde Park, every day. And, a trip to Chatsworth, one day.

Thanks to Dave, I am posting pictures

Dave gave me advice on how to view my thumbnails all at once. Totally made things easier. That's the the thing about Macs, they are like the party snobs of computers. It's all about who you know, that can let you in on the secrets. Dave was kind enough to let me into the "in crowd" at least for picture viewing. So, for your viewing pleasure, pictures from Berlin!


On a boat ride on the river Spree, I managed to catch a shot of this guy climbing on top of the Reichstag building dome. I don't know why he was up there. But it was cool to catch a glimpse of him doing it.

I spent a few lovely hours wandering about Kaufhaus Des Westens (KaDeWe) and they have a floor of the building dedicated to food. I think it's better than Harrod's. I had a pause for a lovely Krusovice dark. Yes I know it's Czech beer but I adore dark Czech beers and drink them wherever I find them. People in the litte bar smiled and nodded at me while I took this picture. They obviously understood my eagerness to preserve this beautiful sight.

This is a shot of my riesling and Rich's pilsner at a fun bar in the Savigny Platz area. They had a fat cat that wandered around and an eclectic clientelle. Cool place.

More alcohol, this time in Potsdam. We had a lovely pfifferlinger laden lunch there, at a very traditional style Austrian-German restaurant. They ran out of dessert before I could have my sacher torte, though. Damn.

The sign says "wait here for further instructions". That tickled me.

Two pairs of Trippens and a pair of yellow slingbacks to balance the earthy shoes.

The purse I bought that I later found the shoes that matched exactly. Isn't that wierd? And it's a much more greeny yellow than it shows here, it's a wierd color. Not your average yellow. So, now I have my feet and my accessory needs covered for my high school reunion in November. I only need to find something to cover the rest of me...literally.

Last night I got off my mopey ass and went to the pub with a bunch of Rich's work buddies. These are all big, bluff, manly men who have been all around the world for many years for work and have seen it all. They've been everywhere and done everything. Tell ya what, there's nothing better for cheering up a mopey gal on her birthday than alot of beer and raunchy tales of the world told by a bunch of rough, tough, cussin' guys. They just good naturedly kept me beered up and treated me like one of the boys. Well, mostly like one of boys. One of the boys with cleavage, maybe. It was fun. Thanks guys. Really.

The 80’s are back. Please kill me.

Yesterday I went on a shopping foray to H&M. It’s not like this is an unusual occurrence or anything. I go there about once a week. Their turnover is so fast that you have to go frequently to see if there is anything new and un-missable. This pays off, as I have found some GREAT stuff there.

But lately? The stuff for fall is like a walk back in time to my high school days. And let me tell you, those were NOT good times for me. Going in to H&M yesterday reverted me right back to the gawky, mulleted, never-got-dates-because she was a foot taller than all the boys, insecure nut job I was in high school. The 80’s, for me, while I adore the music, was a fashion NIGHTMARE.

Let’s look at what we wore back then. Hmm. Leggings. Baggy shirts. Tight pencil skirts and narrow legged jeans. Things belted at the hips. Shift dresses that hung off the shoulders and went straight down. Bubble skirts. Flash dance cut up sweatshirts. Things that were tight on the ass and baggy at the waist. Focus was all on the lower body, with the upper body merely hinted at. All in primary colors, stripes or polka dots with big buttons and bowties at the neck. We all looked like Minnie fucking Mouse exploded all over us.

Now, that look is great for girls with long skinny legs. Or short tiny little girls. Or athletes. Or girls who tend to gain weight in the middle yet still have thin legs. Or girls with self confidence. (I mean, really, leggings? Those are not pants. Those are pantyhose you can’t see through, and there is NO shirt long enough to make me feel good in those.) But I, in high school, was this tall, 50’s pin up curvy (as I now recognize, but back then I just thought “fat”) girl with a 36-22-36 figure. I was STACKED. But I wasn’t secure enough to recognize what I had, and clothes back then were definitely NOT for girls with heroic proportions such as I had. No, the perfect girl for the 80’s was like the majority of my friends. 5’4” tall, and kind of boyish. Tiny. Cute. Not overly curvy. I felt like a whale in a school of sardines. Everything I ever tried on in high school was too big in the waist and too tight and too short everywhere else. It all seriously gave me post traumatic fashion syndrome. I would try so hard to fit in, but my body type would just NOT look good in proto-Pat Benatar, Go-Go’s MTV styles. About the only style I could do and look decent in was Madonna’s poofy full skirt and tight leotard look, but seriously, nobody cool actually dressed like Madonna back then.

Then came the 90’s and I found my fashion confidence. God Bless the 90’s. The Bill Clinton years. The years that Karla learned that having an Apple Butt was not such a bad thang after all.

So, these days, I go shopping at H&M, at my advanced age of 37, and it’s all back. All that 80's shit. Even the neckties for girls. Remember those? And all the old feeling comes flooding back: I’m fat. It won’t fit. I hate this. This looks like shit. Stripes WHERE? Why not just plaster the word “lard” all over my ass? No wonder, now, for the past 15 years, anytime I come across a skirt, dress or pair of pants that fits I MUST buy it. After so many years of nothing fitting in the 80’s, I’m making up for lost time. I’m saving up for the fashion drought, the time when things once again won’t fit.
And I am very, VERY afraid that time is nigh.

Well, fuck that. I’m older now. I don’t have to feel bad about me because some gay man in Paris decides that women should look like boys. Just because fashion is changing does NOT mean that my body will! I don’t need to fit what they say! I am who I am and that’s all that I am! I’m sticking with my Bohemian look; tight tops and full skirts, tailored skirts and vintage dresses, straightlegged (not tapered) jeans and fitted waist jackets. I’m still an Apple Bottom and I still look at J Lo and Beyonce as modern day heroines for girls with ass! You will NOT see me in bubble skirts, leggings, gauchos (GAUCHOS, for fucks sake!), “walking shorts”, shift dresses or anything that does not define my waist. NO empire tops. No polka dots. NO and I mean NO neckties.

I’m older. I’m wiser. I have more money. And I don’t need to settle. So, Fashion People? Screw You! I’m wearing what I want and guess what? I’m STILL gonna be fabulous!

Milano! Aldo!

Milano!

If it is your first time to Europe, I would not start in Milan. Most people, well, American people, think of sidewalk cafes, slow strolls down romantic streets and old buildings when they think of a trip to Italy. If that's what you are after, Milan is not your town. Sidewalk cafes are not near as prevalent as I would have thought, Milan is very industrial and fairly modern and it ain't no strolling town. It's go go go, all the time. In fact, Milan reminded me of Oslo....very similar buildings, streetcars everywhere, people zipping hither and thither and a paucity of remaining historical sites, compared to other Italian towns. (Milan was seriously bombed in WWII.) It feels almost...gritty.

That being said, I liked Milan. No, it's not on the top of my list as far as European cities, but it's got its charms.
It's easy to get around, especially once you figure out the tram system, which is very convenient.
The people are very nice.
The shopping is great. Even in the snootiest stores, the salespeople are, as a rule, very friendly. (Yes I went to Prada and Cavalli and Louis Vuitton. Yes I felt comfortable in there. No, it was not like Julia Roberts in "Pretty Woman", you know where she goes shopping and they won't help her?) (Oh and oddly enough, I bought nothing, as what I did want they never had my size**, and what they did have in my size I did not want. This proves my life-long theory: When you actually have money and want to shop, there is nothing to buy. You only find the great stuff when you are poor, then you want EVERYTHING.Which is why rich people stay rich, when you can have it all, why bother?)
The Duomo, the cathedral there, is fabulous, especially the outside, because they let you climb around on the roof. I felt like I was climbing around on a giant wedding cake.
And the weather was GORGEOUS.

Our hotel was WONDERFUL. The Hotel Lancaster, the staff were the friendliest I have ever encountered in a hotel, the room was great and the bathroom was 5 star quality. I LOVED the bathroom. The only problem is that the Lancaster is in a sort of boring area, there is nothing nearby in terms of restaurants and so on, so you have to walk or catch a tram to get to where the action is. However, the hotel itself more than made up for the lack of stuff to do around it, so I give it a big thumbs up.

** Hello, people at Hogan? I really want those silver and black sandals you had..can you PLEASE find me a size 41 somewhere?

Aldo!

For me, the highlight of the trip to Milan was getting my hair done at Aldo Coppola. Ladies, if you find yourself in Milan, and you've got curly hair, go to Aldo Copploa and get yourself a haircut! It will cost a bomb, but it's worth it.

After my recent hair disaster, I'd been feeling pretty scruffy. I needed a cut, I needed a color adjustment and I honestly needed an attitude adjustment, too, as I've been down on myself and feeling pretty gnarly. So I gathered up my courage and trudged up the the 8th floor of the Rinascente department store, directly across from the Duomo, to get my hairs prettied up. I don't know about you, but walking cold into a (you think) snooty hair salon in a foreign country where you can't say "boo" in the language is a bit scary. But I was desperate. So I did it.

It was a bit touch and go in the beginning. I was trying to describe my recent hair disaster to folks who spoke VERY LITTLE English and my choice of words may have caused a few disconnects. When I mentioned I wanted permanent color, they thought I wanted a perm! So I backed WAY off that, and finally grabbed a swatch of hair from underneath my head, at the nape of my neck and pointed at it and said "good natural color" and pointed at the carrot-y top of my head and said "bad, mistake color". Luckily, I am a bit of a ham and an actress, so communicated by way of facial language, hand gestures and the odd word or two. A very small perky guy came up, showed me some color samples of hair and told me he would mix them together to get me back to my natural shade of auburn. I said "good?" and he said, "good". So he took me to the back of the place, glopped some goo on my head and half an hour later I had FABULOUS rich, deep natural color, like what I was born with, but better. Lots better. And way more expensive.

For the cut, I basically made lion noises and fluffed my hands around my head in the international sign of "big hair" and this tiny guy laughed and said "Ah! Italy hair!" and made my hair his bitch within 15 minutes. His scissors flew about my head, he hopped around and flashed about and practically had to stand on my shoulders to cut my hair, he was so short, but when he was done, I gotta say, I was gorgeous. Auburn, wild maned, la dolce vita out of Texas, gorgeous.

The next day I wore my contacts ( I usually hide behind my glasses), made up my eyes and with the red hair flying and the green eyes flashing, I felt great. I sashayed about Milan like an old style Italian movie starlet. If there had been a fountain, I would have frolicked in it. I got flirted on madly by men in the street, in shops, in cafes...it was just what a girl needed to keep her confidence up. Apparently, Italian men like tall, curvy, slightly goofy Texan gals with deep auburn (titian) hair and green eyes. Hell, even my own HUSBAND flirted with me, and girls, seriously, when was the last time your husband flirted with you?

So, yeah, in 4 months or so, you might see me flying back to Milan just to go to Aldo Coppola to get my hair cut again....

Oh, and did I mention the view from the salon while I was getting my hair cut?

Milano!

(Mmm...Mint Milanos. DAMN this diet. Any word you say lately makes me think of a food that I like. And that I probably miss. It's kind of sucking. However, I am NOT the sort of dieter who denies myself everything and can only have three carrots and an egg white a day. It's all about moderation. Basically, what works for me is just cut the calories, but how you get those calories is up to you. Thus, if I want that bowl of Fruit Loops, I am gonna have it. Just skip the mocha instead. Have lettuce instead of that tortilla. You know the drill.

Um...this was not what I was going to write about, however. Not at all. So shut me up on all this diet shit, which is boring anyhow, and move the fuck on...oh, but my friend Mary did tell me yesterday my face was looking thinner, so maybe I've lost a few ounces? All...in...my...chin?)

We're going to Milano! (cookies) (damn)

Ok, so I have my wardrobe all planned for Milan. I'm going with a brown and white with silver theme. I did need to buy one pair of shoes to make it totally work (and DAMN I wish I had gotten that cute white and brown Coach purse I saw at the outlets in San Marcos last January...it would have worked perfectly with all this stuff. It was really, REALLY on sale and I loved it, but didn't get it. Foot, meet Ass. Kick at will.) The shoes I got are white Aerosoles, which is ironic in that in the US they cost about $35 and here? Substantially more. But maybe I will appreciate them that much more? I AM wearing them today, so that is a start. I realized it's the first pair of shoes I've bought since...since....um, March? And that may well be a total Karla record.

I'm not bringing ANY jeans to Milan, except a white pair a la Elizabeth Hurley, though in a substantially bigger size. Then it's all just a medley of brown and white, but also a really cute brown and white woven straw hat I got at H&M to sort of finish it off. So I have to weigh the options...nice fluffy hair or cute hat (but with hat hair)? Hmmmm.

I am also going to see about getting my hair cut in Milan. And possibly getting some sort of reparation to the recent damage I did to the color, which is starting to show again with the semi-permanent color wearing off.

It's been 6 weeks or so since I've traveled anywhere. That might be part of why I have been so glum. No trips to look forward to. I need to keep in travel practice. One hard part has been my travel buddies have all moved away, so no girls to jaunt off with anymore. Not like last year.

Oh, and here's a news flash! I just saw an ad on tv for a brand new product, never before available in Norway. All the ads are all touting this "new" product. Guess what it is?

Rice Krispies. New!

Yeah. We are finally getting Rice Krispies. Wonder how much negotiating with the customs folks they had to do to bring THOSE in here.

Sheesh.

In which I show I don't know nuthin' about nuthin'

I've updated some blog links in the sidebar. Unfortunately, in doing so, some fonts went bigger and some went smaller and I don't frigging know why. So, if you find the link to you being in little bitty print, it's NOT because I don't love you (and I am not being a Texan-ist) it's just I don't effing know HOW that happened. Methinks I need to take a web design course. And I bet this looks like shit in Internet Explorer, but as it almost pains me to even open that software now, I really never check. Anyone wanna help me make this blog look like a real blog and not like a badly managed Blogger template? Can work out trade and post you credit for your help.

Other news:

Haven't lost any weight at all. I've been walking and stuff, but apparently my newly aged metabolism is all about building me a little belly. THAT is not acceptable. Big ass, I can handle. Belly? No effing WAY. Will have to go to step two. Which I am not happy about. To that end: I can only have my mochchocolattayayas twice a week. No soft drinks, but if I am CRAVING one I can go get a small can of Coke but only if I walk to the farthest end of town for it. No drinking during the week. And (*weep*) I believe I will have to institute portion control. Hell and damnation.

Next week we are going to Milan. I tried, today, to book tickets to see The Last Supper, but the lady on the phone was very nice when she sort of snorted and said "Sorry! Nothing available until mid July!" Arg.

I didn't want to see that stinky old masterpiecce anyhow.

While in Milan I am going to get my hairs done somewhere fabulous, so that I can swish my head around when I get back and say I had my coif done in Milan. Sounds fab, no? Might also have my disastrous color fixed...I am sure if I tell them I want to be a like a Titian redhead they will understand? All fiery hair and flowing locks. That's what I will go for. ( Note to self: Must learn the Italian phrase for "Fiery hair and flowing locks". )

Then of course, there is the issue of what to pack for Milan. I must admit I have become fairly grubby when traveling, choosing comfort over style, but dammit, I wanna get back to my fashion girl roots in Milan. I'm thinking sleek black skirts and whimsical flats. Maybe a fun sundress or two, very La Dolce Vita. (Note to self: Find whimsical flats.) I am going to FLOAT down the streets of Milan in flowy skirts and trailing scarves. Rather like I did in Venice last June.

(Damn has it already been a year since Venice?) I loved the wardrobe I brought to Venice. I really hammed it up and I felt fabulous. It was so great to get out of jeans and the usual schmatta I normally wear. It was all about being romantic and putting in a little effort.

Besides, the flowy dresses? Hide the new tum-tum.

bring my babies back to me safely.

Well, I did it. It's been needing to be done and I did it today.

I took my Lucchese Black Cherry Hand Stitched Classic Cowboy boots in to get them fixed. Not, um, fixed as in neutered, but having the soles fixed. (And if these boots could have babies I would definitely let them mate, because the world can only be a better place with baby Luccheses running around.)

I was a little nervous about taking them to a non-Texan shoemaker because damn, these boots are my babies. I've worn them in many many countries. To many events. I wear them every time I fly back to Texas. They are, as the song says, made for walkin'. They hug my feet like little leather lovers. They've even gotten me asked out on dates. (I said no, because the boots (and me) are married...) They are bar none THE most comfortable footwear I own, plus they go with everything. Skirts.... both long and short, pants, dresses, whatever. They ROCK. What if the Norwegian guy messes them up? I mean, these are the essence of Texan. It would be like asking a Texas tailor to make a bunad...there are some things that just need to be done locally.

But my babies needed some lovin'. And I knew that if I wore them in the state they are in I'd be messing them up. I haven't worn them this winter (leather soles + snow = Karla on her ass). But spring is here and it's boot time! So, I gritted my teeth and went to the shoe repair shop.

Immediately as I walked into the very old school, Geppetto-like shoemaker shop, I knew my babies would be ok. This shoe maker shop is very old fashioned, the door is in an alley off the road, and it just feels like the guy knows his shoes. I also loved him on sight because when I walked in with my boots he just smiled and gave me the appreciative grin of someone who knows good shoes when he sees them. I hung on to them a little harder than was normal, he kind of had to wrest them away from me, but he stroked the leather and oohed and aahed at all the right places, so I think that my babies have a good doctor to make them better. We talked shanks and toes and heels and walking patterns, leather and stitching, rubber vs leather bottoms, and I think this particular "skomaker" is the man for the job. I was even a little verklempft. It was a meeting of the ...soles.

So, next week I'll get my babies back with a new heel and a fixed up leather sole. It's spring and once this endless rain stops, it's walkin' time! And I need my babies to walk proud and tall....