2014

2014 is almost over and it's been pretty legendary.

Here is what happened:

• I became a veterinarian
• Ronja was born (that was pretty awesome)
• We bought a house in Lønstrup
• Sigga was also taken into the family

I'd say that these were the highlights of the year....Ronja was a pretty big event, she's also turning out to be a fun kid! She loves eating, playing and 80% of the time she's smiling or laughing. 

I decided in the beginning of 2014 to keep track on what I've knitted/crochet and take a picture of all the things. Here is why: to brag about it in the end of the year. So here it goes:

Here is the list:

Baby blanket for Ronja

Pattern: Electric Ripple 

Baby blanket for Ronja

Pattern: Super easy baby blanket (purlbee.com)

Blanket for the best man in the world:

Pattern: Sjónarhóll

Blanket for my sweet sweet mama

Pattern: Ölduteppi

Dog blanket

No pattern, just using up scrapyarn

Amigurumi

Bothild the elephant

Pattern: Elephant (http://www.allaboutami.com/post/83740593154/elephantpattern

Rolf the hippo

Pattern: Happypotamus

Bótmundur the giraffe

Pattern: I love buttons by Emma

The killer bunny

Pattern: Spring bunnies

 Clothes

Bolero for Katlas little girl

Pattern: Sorry..can't find it, cant remember

Wrap around sweater for my Ronja

Pattern: Baby cable wrap sweater

Pants for Ronja

Pattern from: Babystrik på pind 3

 

Dress for Ronja (way to big right now)

Pattern: Alda from Litla Prjónabúðin, Reykjavík

+

Vest for Ronja

Pattern: Slaufa from María Heklbók

Icelandic sweater for my sweet Frida

Pattern: Órói

An order that was made from a random greek guy

Pattern: Aftur

Warmies for my Ronja

Pattern: Babystrik på pinde 3

Hats, one for Ronja and one for Otto the son of my lovely Lone

Pattern: Silkitoppur from María Heklbók

I think that's it. I might be forgetting something but I dont think so.  Now, half of the things are made for Ronja, but I'll also have to admit that making babythings is so much fun and making babythings from beautiful, soft yarn is the best. That was 2014 in yarn.....and now i've got stashes of yarn that are waiting to be turned into garments or other goods in 2015.

Happy new year y'all, may it be a good one!

Thats not a ramble thats a rant....a pole rant!

Those of you who know me (and I'm pretty sure that there is only people I know reading this stuff), know that I do pole- dance, fitness, sport..whatever you want to call it. I do it because I like it, don't really care what you call it, as long as you dont call it striptease, cause that's not what I'm doing. It's getting pretty old when people need to clarify for themselves what it is and the mantra is something like this: "Poledance, that's like striptease, right?". Umm..no, it's not. Let me tell you the difference.

Striptease:

• Striptease takes place in a strip club
• Strippers usually get paid
• Striptease involves the act of removing the small amount of clothes that are covering the strippers body
• Usually there is a good amount of booze and often drugs are involved
• A crowd of horny, perverted and intoxicated men are present to jerk off to striptease. 
• Striptease is, in general, degrading to women. 

Pole fitness:

• Takes place in a polesstudio that usually closes before midnight
• YOU pay to train pole fitness
• Polefitness requires skin, but you do keep the small amount of clothes on your body throughout the training/show/competition
• Booze and drugs are not a good combination unless you want to risk breaking your neck trying one of the many tricks exercised. 
• There is no jerking off
• Pole fitness makes women feel good about themselves....you know, like any motion does. 

So, there you go. This is not the same thing....unless of course,  you want them to be the same thing, cause lets not forget that the thing that is in common with pole fitness and striptease is,.....ya, you guessed it: The pole.

I don't think you can call yourself open minded, feminist or all for equality if you sit in a corner bashing me and others who happen to enjoy this sport. Not at all....rather I'd say you're square and old fashioned. It is you that degrade women by bashing them for doing what they enjoy, what makes them feel good.

I have friends that would roll their eyes when I told them about my new hobby. Mind you, my mother was a bit skeptical...for around 10 min and then that was over. But then again, my mother is open minded and cool. I have friends that remain offended by my sport.  ITS NOT LIKE I'M SWINGING ON THE POLE WITH KNIVES SLICING ANYONE THAT COMES NEAR....for f sake. But still they will not even consider opening up, just a tiny bit, even though it has now been approved to be a sport....and might, one sunny day, be on the olympics. "NO, IT'S DEGRADING TO WOMEN, PERIOD". What ever....

I had rather interesting experience once. A friend of mine, who refuses to talk about my devilish act (that is pole fitness) and who is a feminist (like myself) had been to the circus. "Look at this, isn't it awesome"my friend said and showed be a picture.....it was a guy....on a pole! How....I mean, seriously....how in the monkey business ass is it ok, in fact not only ok but awesome, that a guy swings on a pole doing tricks and turns but when it's a woman, it becomes dirty and sleazy. How is this fair, and more importantly, how does that preach equality. I mean, it's ok for him to do it, but she shouldn't be doing the same thing....equality, my ass.  I did point this out to my friend......and I did get the same response as usually, that this was not something that friend wanted to talk about...Aight then.

So, I'm gonna close this rant soon. I could write pages upon pages on this, but I'm not going to. The reason is that I know that those who choose to be "against" pole fitness will not have a change of heart. It's dirty and it will always be dirty, as long as skin is showing it's porn and the only reason for its existence is to please men.

Well, bitches, I do it to please myself. I look forward to each training, trying new tricks, challenging myself. I gladly prance around in hot pants and tops, even though I've got junk in the trunk and lovely love handles. I would NEVER had done that 10 years ago when I weighed 20 kg less and hated my body 20x more. So to those who piss on my sport, I piss on your opinion.

Peace out!

Ode to my extension

Folks, this is it. Ode to my extension. It has to be done. I don't blame you for leaving this blog at this moment, I too find it dreadfully boring reading about someones baby, about how their life has now gotten a meaning and how wonderful everything is.  Mind you, I do not think that my life is first now making sense, in fact, I'm not necessarily sure it does make any sense...but that in itself is another story. And regarding the whole wonderful thing...I can't help but chuckle when I use that word, "wonderful".

Lets get one thing straight before I start the ramble, and this is not because she's bred from me. It is my honest believe that my kid is the most beautiful, funniest, smartest (she's 3 months), amazing baby that has EVER been born. She's also extremely talented, best in the baby-swimming thing, despite being, by far, the youngest. I could even go so far as calling her perfect....And i'm not just saying it cause she's mine....I honestly think this is the case, for real.
While we're on that: Mary, Jesus's mom, is it possible that she was just really loving her kid. She just took it a step further. "Hey'all, my baby is not just the greatest, he's the SON OF GOD. And this is no joke, I didn't even do the sexy..." And then she just kept this mantra going on and in the end people believed her just to shut her up (and no, I haven't read the bible, cause I'm not a big fan of sci fi novels.

Lets sum things up: 

Pregnancy:  Making an extension is a fun process, we all now that. Waiting for extension and becoming a planet is another story. I was told over and over that I should not complain cause my pregnancy was so easy, blablabla. Well, I think I'm allowed to complain and here it goes, being pregnant sucks. It's so boring. What I found to be the hardest part is that you loose complete control over your own body, it doesn't matter if you eat like a holistic guru, you're going to expand. There is no way around it. It's fun, when you stop looking fat and actually look pregnant....and then 4 months of that. I mean.. it gets tired. The part when you start feeling the little monkey inside you...that's also pretty darn great....it also goes on for about 4 months. And at some point it's like "Yeah, ok, we get it you're in there, there is no reason to puncture my liver while you're practicing your kung fu in there". But don't get me wrong, that bit is kinda fun.
The last 2 months of pregnancy.....this joke is getting old. Getting up from the couch takes 15 min..from a sitting position, don't get me started from lying position. This means that 40% of phone calls are missed, 10% of your guests just go home again cause no one answered the door. Picture me on the sofa, trying to get up to answer the door, like a turtle on it's back.  And then you just keep on growing and you know what....then comes the day when you're supposed to get the golden baby in your hands and life starts to have a meaning.......No no, actually, mama's uterus feels so good and cozy, I think I might just stay in here for TWO MORE WEEKS. At that point, I was ready to give her to a passer by, I was actually pissed off at an unborn baby....Not proud to say so, but I was.

Birth: Push it, push it real good. Actually, this was the fun part. It was like going to the battle field. You're insides feel like their being ripped out by mother nature. "There we go girlfriend, this is what happens when you sex it up without the rubber". And this I enjoyed. Maybe cause it didn't take too long, don't think I would have enjoyed it much if it had been going on for days. Probably would have taken a midwife hostage and told her to pull it out or....
I would gladly go through the whole birth thing 10 times if I could skip the pregnancy and afford nannies. Neither is possible, so no worries, not gonna happen.
So after pushing and pushing real good the creature came out, no doubt about it, testing her voice (it worked perfectly) and as a thank you to her 9 months housekeeper, feeder, aka mother, she pooped directly on me, nice!

After: So now we have a body of organs that needs to be taken care of to make a personality. That's kinda basic, making sure that: poop, boob and nap. The three main things of a baby.

So the day after I come home from the hospital I thought to myself: "I shall not make this new comer change my daily routine too dramatically, I shall take the dogs for a walk". After aprox. 10 min of walking...I was out of breath and thought my insides were going places. Wait what...they forgot to tell me that you don't just go back to normal right after.....in fact it takes a loooong time. A week after the big bang and my stomach is still looking like that of a pregnant Inam, I cannot fit my trousers because my boomshakalaca is just a bit to booteylicious. I send my experienced friend a text asking what kind of  sorcery this is, when does my stomach go back to normal. The answer: "3 months"....Excuse me? No, I will not have it. So I started to do exercise 2 weeks post baby.....doesn't help. It doesnt. Don't even bother....My stomach remained for the rest of the summer and it is first now (3 months after) starting too regress to something that resembles a non pregnant stomach. So girlfriends, all those posts of some good looking girls taking pictures of themselves two days post-baby saying something like "Had my little Hazelnut two days ago, almost back to normal" are not the norm. Lets just clear that one out, minority of women can wear a tank top a week after birth. They're the lucky ones...genes...not the norm. They forgot to tell me that, so I was getting depressed wiggling my stomach and thinking of Jelly-O.

Baby: I think we already cleared the whole: My baby is the best one ever to be born.
It's not too bad to have one. I'm not a big fan of babies, never have been. Was kindly told that I wasn't needed anymore that one time I babysat. I don't like babies crying or screaming....still don't and I thank that person that invented the pacifier, every day. Ronja (that's the name of the little one) is pretty well behaved, don't get me wrong, she does cry and scream at times, and my skin itches when she starts. Working on that....patience is not my strongest thing, but it's getting better....I think.
Now about the whole life changing: I don't think my life has changed that dramatically, I mean, of course it has changed but I still do things I like doing...you know, they did cut the cord there at the hospital. And I can just bring Rojo with me doing things I like doing, that way she will like them and then we can do it together.
I think the fun part is starting now....I don't know how fun it is to have a mega small baby. They can't do anything, they're just there, kinda sleeping and it doesn't matter if you stare at them for 4 hours with out blinking, the most exciting thing that could happen is a fart....But now, she got a voice which is used for other than screaming for boobjuice or poopalert, we have conversation and once in a while we listen to JT, cause he's so fine (that's what Ronja thinks, at least (and me)) and Rojo sings along....(she's 3 months).
It's just gonna get more fun, obviously she's meant to do great things: crochet houses, win the world championship in pole fitness, catch the biggest fish ever recorded and blow beautiful glass pieces......no pressure my little one, no pressure.

Over and out, biatses!

Ps. I'm could settle for a scooter instead of a car.
Pps. Baby is crying, I guess that's my cue!
Ppps. False alarm, pacifier needed to be re-inserted, the universe has been saved, once again. 

In the beginning....

So, yesterday I went to my new knitting club and up came the topic on blogs. Turns out there is this danish lady who has a blog and blogs about her husband among other things. She just quit her day job cause she can live of her blog.....she got a car, just like that, cause she sits down once in a while and writes about stuff she does (or the free things she gets).  And it's not like she's a stunt actress or shark diver...she likes jewelry. I mean really....

So here is my attempt to get a free car. I truly believe my life is so interesting that you all are dying to spare some time to read about it. Especially given the fact that I'm on maternity leave and my days evolve about getting as much boobjuice into the miracle, feeding the dog and the cat and getting some knitting/crocheting done.  Exciting stuff!

Who knows, maybe I'll throw in a picture or two...selfies, since that's the new thing.

What is about those selfies anyway...I'm putting on my pensioner hat now, so bear with me or go and flip through your instagram, #selfies. They bug me to no end. I mean, really....these selfies people spend hours on hours taking their OWN picture; in the bathroom, in the car, on the toilet, in the changing room, in an elevator, on the street, buying nuts, buying milk, in the morning, in the evening, in the middle of the day. I wonder if they have a picture of themselves hanging behind each corner in their own house, cause surely they can't get enough of themselves.

I'll have to admit I have taken a few selfies myself, these times when I wonder if I could ever be model or if I find myself looking exceptionally beautiful.....these selfies usually prove that I probably did choose the right carrier when I chose veterinary medicine over modeling and I guess I'm just more beautiful in the mirror then on a picture....so be it.

Maybe it's a good thing, these selfies, people should be allowed to feel good about themselves. They should feel good about themselves but somehow I get the feeling that selfies are taken by the pretty crowd, you know the once that win prom queen, the once that always smell really good, those with really soft hair...could we call them "the more privileged"? Making the other ones look in the mirror and questioning their own look? Am I off track here? Listen, I'm not saying that taking a picture of yourself once in a while is a bad thing, but jeysus....posting a picture of your very own self every 30 min....we get it, YOU'RE SOO HOT AND YOUR HAIR IS SO FRIGGIN STRAIGHT AND SOFT.

Peace and love to y'all

Á morgunn

Hefði ég viljað byrjað daginn á að gæða mér á bakkelsi og kaffi í djúpum stjól,  með gömlu gufuna í gangi, prjónana tilbúna til orrustu .....með ömmu! Blessuð sé minning hennar, þar á ferðinni var sú allra besta og góðhjartaðasta kona sem sögur fara af.  Ég var heppin að fá hana sem ömmu.

BPF=Best Phone Forever!

I love technology, I really do. I'm a frequent user of the internet, in fact I would say that I spend most of my time, not being in school, studying, training or working, on the computer.  Browsing the internet for blogs, news, gossip, emails, resources and let's not forget: refreshing facebook every two minutes or so. Computers are great, simple as that.
Now, phones on the other hand. They give me bad case of ulcer, which is why I keep mine on vibration. This is something that annoys the crap out of frequent callers of Inam since I'm rarely able to hear my phone and therefore very seldom pick up the phone. But I do usually call back as soon as I see that someone has called....but it does happen that I forget or postpone it till it's too late, dont take it personally! The thing is that I have sever allergy to ringing phones, I really really hate it.
It's such a huge disturbance, lets look at some examples:

• Sitting on the toilet and the bloddy phone starts ringing. It's possible to ignore it for the first 2 rings and then the only thing that comes to mind is how fast one can pull up the pants to not miss the phonecall.
• Sitting with friends at a cafe or a bar and then a phones starts ringing. The conversation about that odd one night stand gets interrupted just before the highlight of the story should come. And since the phone is such an important friend....it usually gets picked up, even though one is surrounded with ones friend.
• In the supermarket, the busy mother is just about to pay for her groceries when the phone goes off.  Instead of gently pressing "ignore", she feels obligated to answer. So japping to a friend and at the same time fishing after her wallet and trying to her the cashier...the whole process just takes so much longer and makes it unpleasent for the rest of the line and the cashier......disrespectful.
• Getting jiggy with your boyfriend (cuddling or whatever thing came to your dirty minds) and the phone goes off.....Seriously folks, how can a phone call outplay your spouse, think about it.

Those four came to mind cause they make my famous eyebrow go into twitch mode. It seems to me that people have become so dependent on their phone that the life around them gets less important when the phone calls for their attention. And I dont want to be dependent on my phone; so I keep it on vibration that way I can quietly ignore it when I'm doing something else...and then I call back when I'm done with whatever I was doing (I might have to alter this attitude slightly when I become a veterinarian....).

I'm not familiar with the phoneculture in Scandinavia but if it is anything like it is here in Denmark, then we can expect that a marriage between an iPhone and a human being will be a completely normal thing. Surely this iPhone is great, it has it all: GPS, music, games, internet, dictionary, any "application" you can think of, plus it looks good. But because it has all this (excuse my france) "crap" people feel obligated to check their phones every 4 seconds. This makes gathering rather odd since there is usually at least one or two who are checking their phones in between beer sips: "Oh, wait I'll just check this one thing", "blipblip, oh that was an email, comment on facebook, sms. I'll check it quickly". For us who are not in a stable iPhone relationship, this can be rather tedious, all of a sudden the ceiling of the bar becomes of interest, the beer glass empties real quick and the last thing to do is to check that big, 5kg nokia hand down from dad...that is: flicking through the phonebook. And this is it...it's not an uncommon sight on cafes to see friends all sitting with their latte, extremely busy ticking away on their iPhone.....nice gathering?! 

My next phone? No idea, some that is not to expensive but works for phone calls, sms and it could be nice to have a camera on it in case I get bored waiting for something or someone...then I can take pictures of myself.

Four boobs on a beach.

I might not have mentioned that I'm in North Jotland, Lonstrup to be more precise, and that it's great with work, work-out, horseback riding and lets not forget a beach and some sun.

So today was my day off and I decided to pretend that I was back in Brazil on my way to Copacabana beach (basically I put my optimistic glasses on). So I strolled down to the beach in short shorts, tank top and bikini underneath...tan time. I lasted two hours and I did get some tan, the only thing was the wind that was waking up my goosebumps every now and then. Still, a beach is a beach and even though it was lacking handsome brazilian men in speedos I managed to get some color (got myself a bit of a tan line which I will keep on working), plus I have a great imagination so closing my eyes and voilá, there I was sipping caipirinha with a  gorgeous man next to me.

So I was lying there in my ugly bikini ( I really need a new one, in case someone wants to give me a present) letting my mind wonder and as I look down I see four boobs...not two, but four.  I have a freakishly huge ribcage that is sticking out. People have also pointed out when I'm lying down that my ribcage is blocking the view of the television (people being ex boyfriends and good friends). I don't know if it's some sort of abnormality but big it is and when I'm lying on my back my ribcage is bigger than my boobs (might say more about my boobs than my ribcage). One theory is that i'm the human form of a grayhound.....they have huge ribcage or I have a big heart that needs a big ribcage for protection, I can't decide which one it is since both are very much possible; fast runner, ridiculously kind...basic.

So in my own boredom on the beach I took a picture of my ribcage. It's big and deep....you might even say that it looks a little bit like a ribcage of an alien, like ET or from one of those alien movies. Of course they dont have this tan that I have but we have the protruding ribcage in common.

So...third theory: Could I be an alien...............



Oh...and it's not because I have big bones. I was told that once and my eyebrow twitched for a week after. Big boned..christ!