And now… time for training!

Speeding up through the day to be able to join a training class at SATS. Speedy at work, speedy trip home for lunch (50 min, incl. tube ride, eating, and taking Rico out – and back on time for a meeting!), speedy meeting at Upplands, speedy going back to the office, and speeding through an email campaign… ufff!!! and now, speedy posting before rushing to my SATS Core class. Because I need to do some exercise!!

 

Read also Still a Supermom? Passing with my eyes closed!

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My thoughts are with Japan

Geisha with laptopI can’t even begin to really understand the magnitude of what the people in Japan are going through. The initial fear felt with the trembling, the increasing horror at the sight of the gigantic wave engulfing everything as it sweeps through towns and valleys, the culminating panic of a very likely nuclear disaster. Makes your everyday complaints about how late the train is look petty and selfish.

Salty liquorice for breakfast

Salty liquoriceOk, it sounds disgusting, I know. But it really is not that bad. Before I met my hubby I used to hate liquorice. The smell alone would make me gag. Anything that tasted or smelled like liquorice was banned from entering my mouth. When I was living in France I tried many, many times to drink Pastis and like it. I could not get past the first sip without wanting to wash my mouth with something else (vodka and cranberry, maybe?) – like a big piece of lime. Anything. Whatever. Just. Not. Pastis. And when I was tricked into tasting a piece of salty liquorice, I found it so horrendous that I managed to eat my way through a whole bag of Maltesers (I still haven’t found a better excuse than that one!).

Becoming a stepmom is like learning to like a new taste. Something that you thought “oh, no way!” starts getting its way through, and one day you think “maybe”. Happened to me, both with becoming a stepmom and with liquorice. The sweet, and the salty ones. Liquorice, that is. It happens, just like that. But you have to try it. You have to want to try it. That is the trick. If, like with anything, you don’t really want to try something, then it is very unlikely that you will like it.

And then one day you wake up and steal the salty liquorice from your hubby’s candy stash – and have it for breakfast!

Another morning on the train

Monochrome Mary JanesTaking easy this morning. The sun is starting to rise earlier and earlier, so it doesn’t feel like I am waking up in the middle of the night anymore. Still at 5:15 I could find very valid arguments as to why it is still “night”.

So it is at 5:15 I wake up every day, only today I snoozed. It was very nice. Would have been ever better if I could have been automatically transported into a Saturday when I forget to turn the alarm on, and then remember it is Saturday. Now that’s nice. But in reality it is only Wednesday and I am meeting a client at work, so as a reward for the effort of waking up so early and to celebrate the earlier sunrise, today is the first day of the year I am wearing sky-high heels to work.

Note: For the security of my fellow pedestrians, and to avoid scratching my lovely mono-chrome Mary-Jane’s I am carrying them in my handbag until I get to the office, in case treacherous ice patches on the pavement cross my way.

From island to island

Staring at the screen, trying to overcome the (in)famous “blank page”. I’m thinking I should be full of ideas, bursting with creativity, too many things to write, too little time… after all, it is only my second post.  I wonder how many posts am I allowed to complain about having no idea what I am writing about – and if anyone care. I wonder also  if I am still allowed to moan about how early I wake up to catch a train to Stockholm every morning, knowing that we are moving into Stocholm in just 6 weeks. Can you call a 10 min ride on the underground “commuting”? Would that be an insult to my then former fellow commuters who will keep taking the 6:25 train? Maybe I will walk instead. Should be nice going through Södermalm, crossing Gamla Stan and up Drottninggatan. From island to island, dreaming with my eyes open.