Dejlige Alejandra, som jeg går til babysvømning med, fremviste mig (genert) sin rygtatovering: en feminin lille fe. Hun fik den lavet for 7 år siden, da hun var 17 år, i Playa de las Americas på Tenerife.
En lille fe på ryggen.
Månedsarkiv: februar 2011
The Sunscreen Song.
En af de klogeste tekster jeg har læst. Så simpel, så rammende. Skrevet af Mary Schmich som klumme til avisen “The Chicago Tribune” udgivet 1. juni 1997 med titlen “Advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young”. Udgivet som “spoken-word”-sang af Baz Luhrmann i 1999 – med stemme af Lee Perry. Har aldrig (som teksten ellers foregiver) været brugt ved en “graduation”.
Læs. Lær. Lev. Her er den:
“Wear sunscreen.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they’ve faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.
Don’t worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing every day that scares you.
Sing.
Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts. Don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.
Floss.
Don’t waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind. The race is long and, in the end, it’s only with yourself.
Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.
Stretch.
Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don’t.
Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You’ll miss them when they’re gone.
Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else’s.
Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don’t be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.
Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.
Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.
Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.
Get to know your parents. You never know when they’ll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They’re your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.
Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you’ll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.
Respect your elders.
Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you’ll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.
Don’t mess too much with your hair or by the time you’re 40 it will look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth.
But trust me on the sunscreen.”
Daisy i forårshumør.
Marc Jacobs har sendt en ny parfume på markedet, så vi alle kan dufte dejligt her til foråret. Den hedder “Daisy Eau So Fresh” og det er lige hvad den er! Den klassiske Daisy-duft (med noter af bl.a. viol, jordbær, træ, grape og vanille) er piftet op med et stænk citrus og det passer mig helt perfekt. Duften minder om forår; den er frisk og glad, feminin og elegant, og kommer helt sikkert til at have en fast plads på min hylde i lang tid fremover. Flasken er smuk med de fine hvide og pudderfarvede blomster på låget, hvor også en enkelt gul blomst har sneget sig ind for at understrege citrus-tonen i parfumen. Så hvad venter du på? Afsted og prøv den hos din nærmeste forhandler!
Min datter Bruno.
Nej altså, det hedder hun selvfølgelig ikke i virkeligheden. Det er bare noget vi kalder hende en gang imellem. Hun hedder Isabella. Ikke som i “den lille prinsesse”, men som i “Pheneas og Ferb´s søde veninde”. Men når hun er rigtig “drenget”, f.eks. tager fat i noget hun ikke må og med et skævt smil og glimt i øjet kigger hen på dig for at se om du har opdaget det, så kalder vi hende Bruno. Eller når hun med vaklende skridt (og en voksen i hånden) tonser afsted efter storebrors fodbold, mens hun med sine lungers fulde kraft brøler alt hvad hun kan. Så er hun også Bruno. Men hvorfor Bruno? Det var såmænd bare et navn, der en dag kom helt spontant fra farmands læber, da hun var i sit “Bruno-humør”. Og så blev det hængende. Og siden 11. september gik det lidt af mode at kalde sit barn for “far´s lille terrorist” , så vi beholder Bruno lidt endnu.
Tandfeens spanske kollega.
Det er aldrig kedeligt at tabe en (mælke)tand! For hvis man husker at lægge den under hovedpuden inden man rejser en tur til Drømmeland, kommer tandfeen helt sikkert forbi og bytter den for en mønt. Det ved alle! Og næste morgen er glæden (over den nye “skat”) og undren (over at hun IGEN kunne være så stille at jeg ikke så hende! Også selvom jeg bestemt ikke sov hele natten!) stor.
I Spanien er der ingen tandfeer. Man får derimod besøg af “Den lille Mus Perez” (El ratoncito Perez). Han er en sød lille mus, der i nattens mulm og mørke kommer forbi og, ligesom tandfeen, bytter tanden for en mønt (eller flere). Han tager den med tilbage til sit land (et hemmeligt sted!), hvor alle børnenes mælketænder bliver brugt som mursten til at bygge huse. Og der skal mange til, for ud over Perez bor der også tusindvis af muse-venner og muse-hjælpere.
Jeg kender ikke tand-væsnernes historie, men selvom mændene i Spanien slet ikke er så “macho” mere som de var for et par årtier tilbage, så har der sikkert været nogle, der har syntes at det var for fimset at få besøg af en fe. Og sådan en sød lille mus, den kan alle lide!
Konkylie-tatovering.
Der var en der sagde noget a la “Bør du ikke selv sætte et eksempel, inden du begynder at fremvise andre folks tatoveringer på din blog?”. Så selvom jeg ikke har det store behov for at fremvise mine tatoveringer (som jeg er meget glad for og ikke fortryder!), kommer der her en af dem: min lille konkylie. Den er 2½ år gammel og sidder diskret bag på min højre overarm. Den er lavet af Jan Lobo, der kan noget med farver og skygger! -Og som iøvrigt er den eneste der pt. “får lov” at tatovere mig.
DejligDansk 