It is raining cats and dogs, and a whole lot of other animals. I have donned the local national costume, a waterproof windbreaker and ditto gore-tex- coordinated pants and boots, and am not in the least bothered by the zoology falling from the sky.
Fifty Shades of Grey is the first book of what I to my horror discovered is a trilogy, the horror ceasing only when I, in disaccord with the book slapped myself, reminding me that no one can force me into reading the next two.
The story of the unnerving relationship between the too-good-looking-for-his-own-and-everybody-else’s good industry magnate Christian Grey and the hopelessly Grey-struck literature graduate Anastasia Steele, is so far sold in 40 mill copies worldwide, allegedly being on the love longing lips of an incredible amount of desperate housewives.
What all the fuss is about beats me, although not like the main character beats his girlfriend in the BDSM (bondage, discipline, sadism, masochism) part of their relationship. Actually, and sexually, the book is so totally off beat as to wean me off rather than turn me on… That love hurts is sometimes true, but in this book it smarts in more than one sense; One of the book’s critics describes it as a real pageturner, and I couldn’t agree more; It made me turn the pages as fast as I possibly could in order to escape the agony. Not the agony of the bewildered Ms. Steele or the haunted Mr. Grey, but my own.
This cake is not for amateurs.
Making it, yes, that’s a piece of …
Eating it on the other hand
takes a connoisseur
a passionate and experienced lover
of the real thing.
Not the child’s play chocolate,
but the rich, mature,
intensely flavored kind
that will take you
to new thrilling peaks of pleasure
sending shock waves
through your system
each time you take a bite.
And as it is packed
with only the healthiest of ingredients
coupled with loving intentions,
you may, for once,
have your cake
and eat it too.
Read more →
Sweat is in the air… everywhere I look around, sweat is in the air… perspiration stains abound!
Tension is building, intensifying and expanding towards and beyond the nonexistent ceiling and walls of the outdoor basketball court in downtown Trondheim this beautiful late summer’s day.
The older, heavier and nearbodybuildemuscular players are not only sweating, but also showing bloody and rainbowcolored signs of close encounters of the 1. degree: Burns acquired when hitting the steaming asphalt, rifts obtained by slamming into the metal mesh fence, bruises gained in powerful rendezvous of heads when two persons jump as high as they can, sometimes even higher… One in an effort to dunk the ball into the impatiently awaiting hoop, the other determined to prevent the first from doing just that.
Cefalu is well worth a visit. We did not, by any means, give it the credit it deserves as we were only staying for a few days and had some very basic needs to satisfy before starting to explore the town and the area: The need for soaking up as much sunshine as possible without getting our eyebrows singed. For two days, happily exposing ourselves to UV I, II and what felt like a fair amount of x-rays, we lolled like immobile skin-shedding sea elephants on the sunbeds in the beautiful Kalura Bay. Like the afore mentioned sea elephants, lifting a “fin” only to scratch our thighs, and unlike them to splash sun lotion on each other’s backs or lift our water bottles, not really caring that half of its content missed the target and trickled down our bodies.
Once in a hot while we would roll off our beds and plunge into the sea, basking in the underwater world of colorful fish, shells and plants, before again retreating to our incubators.
When we after a couple of days eventually mustered the will and strength to lift our heads and look up, we discovered dazzling sights of mountains, rolling hills, and for someone living on the (ice)edge, a mind-boggling diversity of colorful trees, bushes and flowers. Rocks and cliffs were valiantly protruding into the sea, one of the closest ones occupied by remnants of a Byzantine fortress.
And from there it was all gloriously uphill…
…or Caught Between A Rock And A Hot Place
I don’t know what’s with us Norwegians: Just because there is a pole, we feel we have to find it, just because there is a glacier we think we have to cross it, and just because there is a mountain we bl…. well believe we have to climb that too. The extreme explorer blood running in my veins is pretty diluted, but I have to admit that even I sometimes get the urge…
The small mountain just behind the beautiful and peaceful Agriturismo La Perciata did not seem to be much of a challenge. Actually not amounting to much more than a rocky hill, it seemed high enough, though, to promise enthralling vistas over Cassibile and the coast of Syracuse on the Eastern side of Sicily.
The proprietor looked a little taken aback when I asked him how to get to the top, which I am not sure was due to the nature of my inquiry or if he actually did not have a clue to what I’d just asked him. He quickly got on top of the situation, though, and embarked on a long explanation in Italian, accompanied by a lot of, at least to him, meaningful gesticulation.
His badge looked homemade, worn, not really aspiring to anything. Like himself, slumping in the shade under an old olive tree in the outskirts of the The Archaeological Park of Neapoli, Syracuse. On the bench beside him sat his water bottle and a tired looking panama hat. He did nothing to attract attention to himself or his services. Rather on the contrary, looking like he’d be forever grateful if the world would just leave him alone. I don’t know what made me approach him…
Great was my astonishment, therefore, when…
|Happy Feet with Orange|
For someone who practices yoga and meditation in a (so far futile) effort to obtain inner tranquility, it is amazing to what incredibly stupid lengths I can go in order to squeeze as many activities as possible into one day. Even though research shows that multitasking makes you more stressed and less efficient, l continue to preach water (mindful thinking and living) and drink wine (measure my own value as a human being in terms of my accomplishments).
Read more The Dying Art Of Multitasking