bed time story part I

A friend of mine just sent me a video clip, which touched my heart. The combination of cinematic narrative and lyrics leaves a haunting impression... Watch it here

Good night!

Sx

My top 18 list!

My off day is continuing, although I’ve done a fair bit of work today, such as cleaning up my computer, emails, and consolidating my plans for a personal project of mine. Nevertheless my mood is not lifting. So I start making a list of New Year’s resolutions for the next year. Hopefully this will get me rebooted.

My top 18 list (and not in order of relevance, but as they spring to mind)

1. Start training and get back into shape
2. Dance, Dance, Dance (at least 3 days a week)
3. Find my passion in life
4. Launch OS.com (codename for now)
5. Become financially independent (it’s of course relative)
6. Blog, blog, blog – I love writing and it gives me inner peace
7. Become more assertive – I used to be but somewhere it got lost
8. Follow my dreams (in terms of priority it’s numero uno!)
9. Close off certain chapters in my life
10. And start others
11. Look ahead
12. Have fun, and enjoy life
13. Write down my goals and achievements as they come every day
14. Not measure myself with other people – I am who I am and should follow my own course in life
15. Be a little bit selfish and think of what I really want (and do not!)
16. BUT know when to prioritise myself and when to prioritise others (the difference between looking out for my own interests and being an egocentric prick)
17. Be with people that gives me energy and scrap the people that don’t
18. Spend more time with my family – life is so short, and I want to see my kids growing up to become beautiful, happy and loving people

It starts HERE!



















A happy picture from the archive

Morning thoughts

Some days feel completely off for no reason. You wake up, the sun is shining (which it is in fact not, but for sake of argument), and you have a brand new day in front of you. And still, you rather crawl under the blanket and fall asleep, waking up to yet a new day where everything feels great again. Today is a day like that. Perhaps dreams have something to do with it. I had two very strange dreams. The first one I was in a synagogue, and there were a lot of people everywhere scattered on the floor, like a massacre had taken place. I looked up, carefully, and the only face I see, that I recognise is Simon. From there on I can’t remember anything anymore. The second dream I get a call from my stepsister, who I haven’t had any contact with for over 18 months. Long and complicated story, but I still love her. She calls me and I’m really happy to hear her voice. She tells me about the last year, and although what she tells me are good news, I notice a sadness in her voice, loss and perhaps something close to confusion. That’s when I wake up. I tell my dreams, and it sets off a quarrel, over my dad. I try to put it behind, but in fact an eerie feeling is still lingering.

I read the news, whilst Reinout brings me yesterdays dinner leftovers in bed. They taste even better than the day before. I’m suppose to share it with him, but before I know it the plate is almost empty. So I go for a shower. The water is cleansing me, not only on the outside, but on the inside too. I lay down and let the drops hit my face. I feel relief.

After shower I make myself a citrosan (cold and cough is still there). Then I go upstairs to one of the guestrooms. There I have a little desk of mahogany that used to be my grandmother’s. I’ve decided to set up my home office there. In fact it already brings back positive memories. Because my mother gave me this desk when I was so fed up with my IKEA room. It sparked off a passion for antiques which I still nurture to this day. Antiques are in fact memories of the past, good and bad. But with that also comes security and stability. Security and Stability, I savour those common, rather dull words, digest them and re-digest. It feels safe.



My new office

Saturday shopping

Just got back home from a 3 hour lunch and shopping stint in town. I'm completely busted and my feet are aching. As my vanity still presides over comfort, I stubbornly continue to wear my high heels and boots.

Well time for a hot cuppa tea and my Cosmo.

Until soon...




Flowers for the living room



Body Shop and Lush products...time for a bit of luxury



Mindless relaxation

Tell it as it is

Last night we were out for dinner to celebrate a small business victory of my husband. We ended up at a really nice restaurant called Restaurant Fris. Reinout who had already been out for an early celebration came home in a funny mood, going on about suspect pictures and associations I was publishing. I guess it was all down to his voluminous alcohol intake, which may have started a tad to early for a Friday afternoon. Nevertheless he assured me all was well and he still loved me (a girl’s got to hear these things once in a while).

So we ended up at the restaurant, ordered about 5 starters – all at once – and started to devour our food. Somewhere halfway during dinner I managed to choke on my soup, which started off a hysteric cough attack. Great, just my luck! People were looking at me as I was the plague personified and apologetically I ran into the bathroom to spare them of the worst sight. 5 minutes later I came out and dinner was gone.

We ordered our desserts. As we were waiting, doing some small talk, Reinout saw the opportune moment to lay into me. I can’t disclose the topic – yet – but it’s sufficient to say he made me look like a dimwit prick with no sense of urgency, work moral, or brains for business. Perhaps he had a point. My pregnancy hormones rapidly started to rise, and tears were welling up in my eyes. I won’t cry, I won’t cry I kept repeating like a mantra, which also managed to serve as an involuntary block for the worst insults that were being launched at me. I managed to unblock myself, as the new me should be more susceptible to criticism. It worked, and I could see were he was getting at. In fact I was happy he was telling me “as it is”. It hit home. And as I was laying awake in my bed in the wee hours of the morning, I was racking my brains, going through every single detail of his monologue.

It felt good though, and waking up this morning, to a nice cup of coffee and good morning kiss, I felt strangely alleviated. “After all tomorrow is another day”...

The handsome guy

Yesterday as we fooled around with the camera I managed to take the one good picture of Reinout. He was flabbergasted by the result, and secretly I must admit, so was I. In fact it doesn't look like Reinout at all. So this afternoon, as I was sneaking downstairs trying desperately to avoid some business celebrity in our dining room (which has rapidly become the WAR room) I overheard him on the phone.

“Yes, I can’t believe it. She actually published the image – on her blog!”
“Hmm, yeah that one is even worse. I look like Holleeder (Dutch über criminal for the non-dutch natives). She’s ruining my business reputation”
“No you should check out the latest one. She’s comparing me with Ned Flanders, and this morning I had about 5 voicemails from people calling me Flanders”
“Hahaha, yeah well at least he’s the smart one compared to Homer”

But as the saying goes, there is no bad publicity. Perhaps I should take on the job as the PR responsible for MMO Life.

So who’s the handsome guy in the picture? Anyone?

what women want

I have with fascination followed the Swedish debate on feminism. Here is the one country in the world with the highest rate of working mothers, superior childcare system, 18 months paid maternity leave which can be shared with the father, and with women earning closest to a man’s salary (a whooping 88%). And still there appears to be a need for a feminist party, feminist organisations, laws etc etc. It’s perhaps not unlikely that gender equality is taken so seriously given all these initiatives, but as a Swede with a foreign mentality it often appears on the brink of absurd. To the point where I really wonder if women want to be treated in all aspects of life, the same as a man. And how does that impact the role of the man? I have this perception of the Swedish man being utterly confused if not in denial. At home, he is expected to share everything with his partner. Whether it’s the dishes, the ironing, cooking, cleaning, you name it. In contrast, how many women takes care of the car and garden?

I can see the rationale though, as women are becoming a major breadwinner in the family, and often has to come home to a second job. Still I can’t help but wonder if men can be pushed into a new role by public opinion. Will we see a backlash?

At the same time, I wish some of the things Swedes take for granted would be part of our Dutch reality. Although on the surface Holland is an emancipated society it has it’s short-comings (from a female perspective).

First of all most women with children (and a good percentage of women without), work part-time. It’s not uncommon for a mother of two to work 2 days a week or not at all. Although I’m not an expert I believe this derives from primarily two reasons, legacy and social structure. Legacy, as until a few decades ago it was expected of the woman to stop working when she got married. Social structure because of the poor childcare facilities. It’s difficult to get childcare in Holland and if you do you pay a fortune. It’s not uncommon with a bill of EUR 1000 for full time childcare. I believe in Sweden you pay about 10% of that. With the average woman’s net income of about EUR 2000 a month, is it really worth working for?

I would say yes, in the long run it is. Not only to be able to earn some money, but I think in contrast to many Dutch men and women, that children will be better off seeing both their parents working rather than one. It paints a more accurate picture of how society really is, and that both parents has to take a responsibility towards the family. Second of all with the mother at home portraits men and women and their qualities in an unequal light which is then carried on the child until adulthood.

In fact from a historical perspective, women have always worked, unless they were from the upper classes. Therefore it cannot be seen as a legitimate reason to argue that it has always been this way.

But this set aside, there are other “news” that would make the most liberal Swede to choke on his morning coffee. Take prostitution. In Sweden prostitution is illegal to “buy”. They are now even considering a law which will make it a criminal act to go to a prostitute abroad. Here in Holland, whilst they are closing down Red Light Districts, we are nowhere in sight of banning prostitution. Perhaps it should be seen as a woman’s explicit right to sell herself, and a man’s right to buy. No matter what values we put on it. I’m painting of course a very simplified picture to a complex problem. I doubt we can ever find a way resolve these social dilemmas. But coming back to the basic point, do we really want to see men as female clones? Not for me thank you. But playing the devil’s advocate with my own arguments, I’d rather be tied up in bed than tied down with chores. Reinout you know what to do!

Reinout vs. Ned Flanders

see the resemblance...

Homer look-a-like

OMG! I can actually wear Reinout's underwear. Funny enough it doesn't look too bad. I take a picture, but in fact it looks awful. I now really look like Homer Simpson. I know Reinout would be mortified if I published it here, so this is how I look like...more or less

Now off to bed!

A Parisian wet dream

I can’t help but thinking of Paris, the city of light and love. We are going there next week, first to Disneyland and then a few days shopping, dining and socializing. Every time I go there, I make a personal commitment to visit the Christian Louboutin store. It has become the holy grail of shoes to me, like my quest for Fracas 10 years ago (which took me two years before I found it in an obscure perfume store downtown Milan). This time, given that I have (with a few exceptions) kept to my shopping ban, I might splash out. I love the red sole, and the patent leather that has become his signature trademark. It’s the kind props that could come straight out of a novel by Henry Miller.


Paris is my far my favourite city. It oozes glamour and sophistication, something Amsterdam sadly falls short of. The women look fantastic, from 17 to 70, they know how to work le chic. Ah well, with France hopefully not being too far away from the horizon, it won’t be long before I can count myself to being part of this elusive specie.

Milling through some of our old pictures from Paris I found these...

But before I forget, any good restaurant tips are most welcome!



Fooling around in a Parisian hotel room




Mon cherie



Jonathan, our favourite Paris boy

Lessons learned

I had a long sleep-in this morning, until just before noon. Sleep must be the most underrated forms of luxury there is. I should know having been an hopeless insomniac for years. What started off as busy spells at my previous work, with sleepless Sunday nights, turned into a weekly nightmare. Not long before soon, did I start taking tranquilizers. Tranquilizers or sleeping pills are such an easy solution, but even after a few days it can lead to an addiction. I don’t have an addictive personality but the choice between not sleeping or popping a pill was easy.

In the beginning it was manageble. I kept myself within the advised dosage of one pill when needed. But as with any substance your body soon grows accustomed to it and one tablet wasn’t enough. In then end, after 3-4 years of taking them I could take as many as 5-6 a night, and sometimes even more. The social implications that addictions have are larger than we tend to believe, most of all for the family who bares the immediate brunt. My daughter suffered terribly from this. There were times I really tried to stop, but then could be awake for 2-3 days in a row. Those days were unlivable. I suffered migraine attacks, and what in hindsight was probably close to paranoia, seeing things that were not there.

It nearly ended in catastrophy, almost... But then there is something called life, with all its unexpected twists and turns, and that is really what got me out of it.

I think with any addiction, substituting the substance with something else won’t solve the problem, even if that substitute is benevolent. Personally I tried yoga, reading books, changing temperature in the bed room, calming teas, music, acupuncture, even a short stint of anti-depressants. But none of this had any major effect on my sleeping disorder. I remained sleepless.

It was only after I met my husband, that I finally managed to kick my habit. And it wasn’t even difficult. In fact from one day to another I stopped altogether. This has led me to believe that even though with all the good intentions and the greatest of professional help, an addiction can’t be cured until the root cause is resolved. For me that root cause was unsafety. Even though I seemingly lived in a safe and stable environment, I’ve felt unsafe, for in fact as long as I can recall. But being in a new environment made me feel safe and secure again. The cause of a problem may vary from person to person, but unless the main problem is not dealt with, the symptoms will continue to exist. But how does one conclude what the problem is? A problem that may be so deeply buried, under heaps of other issues. It’s like a web that slowly needs to be untangled. Well for me, even with professional help, I couldn’t understand nor find it. Sometimes, and probably mostly, it’s a strike of luck. An unexpected change in once life, such as changing jobs, break ups, new relationships or a move, in short a change of environment. It’s hard to explain, as it’s quite intangible, something individual that everyone has to find out or discover for themselves. I can only think of one word that captures the essence.... serendipity.

Please massage me!

My husband loves practical jokes. When he is the initiator. In fact the first time I met him he immediately set to work showing his party tricks. The aim of the dinner was to discuss an important business proposal, but discussions soon went astray. Reinout, as always, took the lead in the matter. As the alcohol was flowing, so did the range of topics. Nothing was off limit and soon we were all on a rather intimate basis. So intimate that Reinout decided to steel my shoes (and smell them!), in addition to my mobile phone, lipstick and other personal paraphernalia. I wasn’t late to show off my own tricks, and challenged my partner at table, an investor at Endeit, for a dance of bachata. It went down very well with the men, and I’ve since come to understand it made an unforgettable impression. I suppose the evening could have ended there, but Reinout felt obliged to outdo us all. So he initiated a chair fighting contest which his new employee, a gentleman from Sweden, who shall remain anonymous, gladly took up. My two managers, sitting opposite each other rolled their eyes in horror, secretly wishing I had never tagged along. Although this story ends here, it starts off another...

Coming back to his love for practical jokes, today he almost outdid himself in that department, on the expense of his wife. It started off quite innocently with a nice tummy and back rub. I could never say no to a massage and as he was manhandling my back, I asked him to go down, harder. Now I can assure you it was all very innocent, as I was referring to a good massage at the lower end of my back. What I didn’t know was that he had just slipped on skype and webcam with his CEO, Simon Usiskin. There I was moaning away, as I casually asked “Honey, please massage me where the fat is!”

I guess in the moment I couldn’t find a better word for love-handles so it came out rather improvised and blunt. Reinout broke out in a giggle looking at Simon’s face who I must say looked pretty dumbfounded.

I don’t know who was most horrified, Simon or me, but as I quickly rewound the mental images of standing leaning over the computer, moaning away and uttering that very bad porn-line, I wish I’ve had the decency for once to have kept my mouth shut.

I’m already plotting my revenge...



Name and shame

Blogging - for better or worse?

Since I’m bedridden for the last few days, I have taken up a new hobby, reading other people’s blogs. It’s a facinating quest for what goes on behind the curtains of the Joneses (i.e. the Svenssons and the Jansen’s). I must admit I tend to read more blogs of women than men. It’s the paradox of the leviating all things female above male versus the inner bitch that thinks “thank God I’m not like her”. Here are some observations...

Women tend to be much more ego centric than men. Although there are exceptions (I like to think I’m one of them, but in fact I know I’m equally guilty), a majority of the blogs written on a daily basis are about...NOTHING. It’s about daily life, buying fridges, dropping the kids off at school, doing the laundry and going to the gym. In short what every person on the western hemisphere of this planet is doing. There is of course nothing wrong with describing this. That’s why it’s a blog (not blogg!) as it’s a web log, a diary. So in fact most people got that right.

But it becomes more interesting. Lately a lot of celebrities have started to blog. Over seas a.k.a Hollywood you will rarely find a celeb with a blog. In fact it’s completely redundant since a) they don’t need the self-induced publicity, b) they certianly don’t need the extra cashflow (advertisement) and c) there is Perez Hilton doing the work for them. But take Sweden for example, every celeb (from A to C) has a blog. The steriotypical blog starts with “I just woke up. Feeling great! Jumped in the shower and now off for my appoinment with my lovely hairdresser. Then sushi lunch with XX. Delicious! This afternoon I have a photoshoot...” and it goes on. The Joneses are reading in envy, and typically make a sarcastic remark on the comment section.

There is a fascination, a love-hate relationship, prying into these people’s life. Like a peeping Tom we get to know these people, from a distance. We comment, mail (but never get a reply) and add them on our friendslist. Some celebs are too good to accept the invite, others do it gladly as they know these people will come back and again.

As we are blogging, reading and commenting, the Blogging world is spreading it’s wings accross the net. A decade ago, we had Models-turned-Actress as the epithet du jour. Now we have Actress-turned-Blogger, Model-turned-Blogger or the latest of the latest, Blogger-turned-TV presenter, it won’t be long before Blogger-turned-Actress and other hybrid versions appear.

But as with anything else, who bares the responsibility? The leader or the sheep. Because as much as we love to hate the blogs, we are the ones reading it. We are the ones responsible for generating revenues of 8 to 10 K (euros) a month for the most hyped up blogs. But perhaps that also gives us a fair bit of right to tell the bloggers our own opinion, no matter how stupid and obtuse it may seem.

unexpected encounters

Reinout arrived earlier than expected. As I turned around he was suddenly there. Although he wasn’t carrying a bouquet of flowers (it would have been nice), it was a great feeling to have him home. Several group hugs later we sat down for dinner to discuss the last few days, in fact disecting every hour. Victoria was lucky enough to bump into the Queen today on her way to the pharmacy to pick up my cough medicine. It’s not every day you encounter someone of such nobility. She managed to capture the Queen's hand on her mobile phone before she sped off. Victoria was in awe!




Victoria in my bed, before going to sleep last night



In bath with Ceci this evening



Stuffed courgette for dinner

A tribute

When I was young my biggest role model was my grandmother. She was the epitome of stylish chic. Sophisticated, well-spoken, and educated, she had a certain allure around her, that I think few women of today possess. She was of course born in a different era, devoid of sexual exploitation, or at least on the surface. A world that lived by moral codes, where a gentlemans agreement was worth its weight in gold, and men and women lived in an interplay garded by strict rules of conduct. My grandmother, Margit, was born the same year Titanic sank, in 1912. It must have been common in those days to refer to important events in context to another even more important event, because whenever her date of birth came up in conversation it was mentioned in the same breath as Titanic.

My grandmother’s life was not as disasterous as the famous passanger liner. In fact she came from a rather wealthy family, that owned race horses, factories and vacation houses. She was also incredibly beautiful. That is perhaps what I recall most, her sheer presence and beauty, which had the ability to master any room or situation she found herself in. Perhaps some of these memories are made up from my own all to vast fantasy. Perhaps they come from the many stories my mother told of her, because in fact I was only 5 years old when she died. Whatever the truth, it doesn’t really matter. My grandmother has taken the lead in my own cavalcade of women I have the greatest admiration for. She’s up there with the Pompadours, Marie Antoinettes, Queen Elisabeths and Jean D’Arcs of this world.

For a woman of that time, she was incredibly astute, knowing how to take advantage of the society she lived in. She worked in the hospital as a physiotherapist and later rose to leading this team. That’s where she met my grandfather, an improbably handsome man who was a pediatric doctor. She used to run into him in the corridors and as self asure as she was, struck up a conversation. Like an old film rolling in front of my eyes, I can conjure up images of love at first sight. Or a least that’s what I’d like to believe. They married the year after they met, and after a few years of not being able to conceive, adopted my mother from a war torn Finland. That’s another story in itself.

My grandfather was the love of my grandmother’s life. When he died, in 1942, having his car demolished from a train crash, my granmother was devestated. She never remarried, and as far as my mother new never had any other men in her life, despite the long procession of suiters. My grandmother loved to party, and when she died she left two wooded trunks full of gala dresses, furs, crocodile shoes and handbags. Every girls dream. I used to play with them until my mother decided they were too ruined by moths, so one day they were gone.

But the mementos are within me. The image of a strikingly vibrant lady, smoking cigarettes with a black, slim cigarette holder, her presence faintly giving off a trace of Guerlain’s L’Heure Bleue.




my mother and grandmother

Parties and Cosmopolitans

When you are ill and bed ridden, there is only one thing you can do...escape. Not litterally, although you surely wish you could, but by letting your mind drift away on things and matters that you wish for in life. Life is so darn hectic, leaving very little time for creativity and imagination. There is one plan after the other, meetings here and there, and bills..heaps of them. Sounds like the epitome of a creative nightmare. I can’t honestly recall the last day in months (well since my holiday anyway) that I truly had a day off. But today feels like a great excuse and I will take every opportunity to ride on it.

My thoughts are already on a beautiful place we found this summer in France, I go through it room by room and imagine the tranquility and peace, a place I have always longed for and will be our family home one day.

I think of next year, a new situation, a new beginning, a new life. Funny enough this dream is more like an open canvas, still to be painted. I prowl my mind searching for anything to give direction. But there is no golden compass to lead me.

But there are some more immediate, estetic goals however. I’m thinking of grulling gym sessions, preferably with a personal trainer that beat the craps out of me, facials, anti-cellulite treatments, shopping (it’s one thing I’m completely off right now, but I know it will return with a vengence), parties and cosmopolitans. God, I’d do anything to be the life and soul of a party right now.

Chin-chin anyone?

Down and out

The day is spent in bed. My body is under siege from the flu, fighting a loosing battle. I got the third degree from my family for not going to the doctor today, so I made the promise of all promises to take better care of myself+1.

All is not that bad though. Our cleaning lady Caroline was here today, which was just as well as the house looked like an utter mess. She did an excellent job in not only caring for the house but for me too, and Victoria has just brought me hot tea in bed. In sickness and in health as they say....

Deals and promises

Waking up to a snowy Haarlem (although it soon evaporated) made me long for Christmas. Although we are a month away, I just want to fast forward to the weekend before Christmas. The weekend is in fact already planned. I have our cleaning lady coming over to give the house a good Christmas clean, and myself a good exercise! It’s a Swedish tradition in our family. The house had to be spic and span. We would take out the oriental rugs, and brush them with snow (my mother claimed it would return the sparkle to our turn-of-the-century carpets). All silver would be polished and the china would get another wash. Christal chandeliers would also get a good wash. We would buy hyacinths, that would spread a perfumed fragrance around the house, and oranges with cloves would be hung up in the kitchen window (this was before fragranced candles and potpourri sachets).

There are some traditions that have been left behind. Such as celebrating advent with burning a candle every Sunday. I should pick that up again. For children it’s especially important, as it signifies the countdown.

But I have more immediate countdowns on my mind. My husband just left for a trip to Germany. He won’t be back until Wednesday. Not very long, but the fact is I rarely sleep without him. We have this standing agreement that I won’t ever have to, and where he goes I go too. To ensure myself of his good behaviour I casually told him not to do anything I wouldn’t so.
“Sure I won’t”.
“And no prostitutes”.
“Ok then”, he says reluctantly.
“No girls or women at all. No katoys or cross dressed men either for that matter”. I want to ensure that there are no options left. The next few days of his life will be that of an eunuch.
“Honey, I promise. No prostitutes until the company is up and running.”

If he as much as dare...





from my bedroom window

A balancing act

My cold is getting worse. I’ve been raiding the cupboard for anything that will relieve a sore nose and throat. From cough medicine, citrosan, and tracitol, to strepsils and vitamin C, in short I’m overdosing on on pills and medicines. But so far the results are not in a hurry.

Today was a particular busy day, when I least needed it. Although having spent most of the day in bed, it’s been a non-stop emailing, and cleaning up inboxes (I have 4!) I need to be more synchronised. Victoria has an assignment for school - Computer Games. Even though spending what seems like entire days playing games, she has a hard time finding information. It annoys the hell out of me, and it ends up in tears. I ignore it (my by now infamous Swedish attitude as Reinout calls it). Victoria runs downstairs and come up with Reinout in tow. “What the f*ck is going on?”. I hastily end a skype call with a good friend I haven’t spoken to for in months. Typical, the one time I have time to catch up with friends I get interrupted. But the focus shifts swiftly from skype call to Victoria. An animated conversation breaks out.

I don’t have much to add, but the message is clear. Victoria is not taking her school-work seriously and expects others to do the work for her. But the conversation pays off. 4 hours later she has two pages. It’s a good start.

I feel relieved and turn my attention to the next chore, laundry and ironing. I finished it all half an hour ago. Finally some time to relax.



housewife....moi?

light morning dark thoughts

A good night’s sleep can only be summed up in one word...bliss! I don’t know if it was the ghostly presence of one of the spirits we have milling around us (we have apparently three according to my husband), or Lola’s gentle purr thought the night, but I slept like a log. No strange or eerie dreams plagued my nocturnal hours either. This is going in the right direction.

The last hour has been spent trailing through the news. I’m very much a person of rhythm. I do things in a certain order, to create order and structure to a more and more un-orderly world around me. On Sundays I read Aftonbladet, Expressen and DN (three Swedish newspapers) followed the British tabloid News of the World. It’s an interesting sequence as DN is (seen as) a liberal, centre right newspaper, with well balanced journalism. News of the World couldn’t be more further away. Whilst DN will be publishing non-controversial debate articles, News of The World will cater for the masses. There is hardly an ounce of political or worldly news (which is a paradox giving its name). Instead kiss-and-tell stories are making front page along with articles on human deprivation.

Reinout’s CEO, Simon, who was on a lengthy skype call this morning, was rolling his eyes in mock horror at the fact I was reading the News of the World. I must have shattered his illusions of the classy girl from Sweden that enjoys soirees, interior design and history in equal measures. But there is a dark side to my light and seemingly happy nature. The dark side delves deep into human misery, deprivation and despair. Not to mock, but to understand and explore...often my own darker feelings and thoughts. I kept those little hobbies to myself for a long time, only being drawn out by the equally disposed. It takes one to know one. The dark siders are all among us and we sense each other. We seek each other out, but don’t necessarily interact. We know of each other, but often we like to keep it that way......on a safe distance. So we are left lonely, with our dark thoughts obscured by our perfect lives.

I can't help but wonder, do I live with a dark sided person? I think I do. It flairs up from time to time, in looks and expressions. And sometimes in a certain raw, yet controlled, energy. I believe we all have it within us. The only difference being how we chose to act upon it.

the un-easy way

Saturdays used to me a day of at least moderate rest. Slow wake up at 10.30 followed by coffee, news, brunch in town around 13.00, a little bit of shopping, home at 4 o’clock, read a book, watch a film, dinner and a movie. Sounds perhaps boring, but this was my ideal Saturday, no I stand corrected, my usual Saturday which I had no complains over what so ever. But times are different alas. A Saturday looks more like this now... wake up at 8.45 by the dogs running riot through the house. Cecile aka the Devil, will start banging the door with her paws until someone can’t stand it any longer and will rush to give her immediate attention. That someone is usually me. The fact that you just want to strangle her completely escapes her as she wags her tails and bats her eyelids oblivious to my feelings....she is a woman after all, and knows all the tricks in the world to seduce.

At this point the whole house is awake, and the one least of all happy is my other half. I notice this from his short replies and looks that could kill, literally. My female talents are perhaps not as well developed as Cecile’s but apt enough to understand that some tender, love and care is needed. So I run downstairs to make a perfect cappuccino. He accepts......for now. Phew I’m off the hook for another half an hour, and enjoy my own coffee which has now gone lukewarm.
News are nothing to write home about, so after 30 minutes of uninspirational reading I hit the shower. In half an hour I have an appointment for my facial, but I manage to make a second cappuccino to appease my husband. It works...or at least so I think.

Dash off for my facial, which at this point I’m in desperate need of. 15 minutes later I’m all tucked up to the sound of dolphins. I’ve waited for this moment all day and it’s only 10.30!
Home at 12.30 I find my husband in a better mood. He is smoking a cigar and playing with the dogs. He has discovered that Cecile can in fact break-dance, with a little bit of help. He spins her around on her back, over and over. It looks worse than it is, because she’s coming back for more. “It’s good for her. It will only make her feisty to the other dogs”. I get the mental image of Cecile turning into a pitbull. The potential is certainly there.

Ah well, I’m starving , so I get Victoria all dressed to hit town... It’s windy, cold, and in fact snowing. The cold is penetrating my bones, and I can’t button my jacket (I’m too big!). After the 5th shop I’m running out of energy and from there on it’s downhill. By the time we’re are about to turn back home, my energy levels are in free fall. Victoria notice, because I give her the look. The same look that Reinout gave this morning...the only difference being it took me about 6 hours to work it up. Reinout has a natural talent.

Back at home, Reinout is all cosy with a friend. My company is not desired. I try to win them over with some filled speculaas (gingerbread)...it’s homemade I point out. No interest. At this point I’m so fed up I go upstairs and crash.
I just woke up....



waking up to a snowy garden



Pregnancy glow (after facial)

An erotic encounter

Despite having bought a Vanity Fair, to endure my trip back home, I’m drawn to a woman opposite me. In fact she caught my attention before having actually seen her, her perfume announcing her entrance. Like a veil it surrounded her and I imagine she seduced my fellow passengers too with her presence. I know it, because it is my perfume – Fracas. The train was neither empty nor full, as we were waiting for the train to embark. She took the seat opposite me. I glanced at her and smiled, which she returned.....cautiously.

It was difficult to determine her age, she could have been in her late 20’s but equally in her early 40’s. One really couldn’t tell. Her manners were impeccable, placing her birkin bag next to her as in order not to let anyone in on her personal space. I wondered why she didn’t take a taxi, she looked rather out of place although she didn’t really seem to mind. She took up a brown, leather clad diary and started taking notes, her long legs crossed in an inverted V, leaning slightly towards the aisle. I looked around and noted other people had noticed her too. The Dutch are in general rather blunt, so to my surprise people were in fact not staring directly, but rather discretely. It was as if her appearance and demeanor demanded a certain respect, which she must have been used to getting. And people took notice.

As I was sitting there, the few minutes I had her in my presence before she stepped off at Amsterdam Sloterdijk, my mind started drifting to the type of life she was leading. Was she someone’s wife, lover? I imagined lover. In my mind I saw her in an expensive hotel room, unbuttoning her expensive silk blouse, then her pencil skirt, revealing black lace lingerie. La Perla or Aubade I thought. As I was daydreaming, the train slowed down to a grinding halt. The woman looked up until everyone getting off had passed her. Then she stood up, took her bag and left. I was in awe. For that moment I wished I was her. I looked out of the window to catch a glimpse of her a last time but she was already gone.

There are 6.7 billion people on this earth. All with their unique lives and destinies. Sometimes our paths will cross, if only for a fleeting moment. The impact of those moments having the power to change our lives forever......without us even knowing it...




My Vanity Fair and a box of Ferrero Rocher, a peace offering to Reinout...

dreams and sleepless nights

From early morning until now, I’ve been trawling the net for good site designs. I’m exhausted, and as I got a lousy 4 hours sleep last night, I am desperate to catch some sleep. Hopefully this night will not generate any strange dreams like last, when I woke up in the middle of the night convinced that there was a rat crawling up in the corner of the room, next to the mirror. Reinout calming me down didn’t really help, and for what seem like several long minutes, I stared myself blind on the spot checking if there was no creepy animal lurking about.

Being the avid researcher that I am I did some research on dreams in pregnancy. As it turns out vivid and often crazy dreams are quite the norm during pregnancy because of increased progesterone and increased awakenings from dream-filled REM (rapid eye movement) sleep. It is suppose to symbolize your excitement, fear, and apprehension about the physical and emotional changes happening to you.

Well, dreams or no dreams, I’m off to bed...Goodnight!

Is money really the root of all evil?

There is one thing that men and women can’t agree on – money. Is this a relative new phenomena or has it been like this since time of dawn? Are men born with a running calculator adding up every shoe, handbag and piece of fashionable garment that women purchase? Some men may turn a blind eye, in so many ways they won’t ask where that new coat suddenly came from. As long as the bills are paid, the status quo remains. Other men can be fooled, but only by tricks and deceits. One I must admit I have employed myself in the past is hiding the purchase for a few weeks until the coast is clear. When asked if the Burberry shoes were new, I could with clear conscience reply ‘no’.

So far so good. But not all men are like that. Take my husband who I love dearly. He has a sixth sense for sniffing out my purchases. In this case no hidings or obscuring the truth with a little white lie will stop him. He sniffs it out like a bloodhound with a build in GPS. And when the truth comes out there is no turning back. I have to atone for my sins, and in some cases, I’ve raided my cupboard and jewellery box to amend my mistakes and repay some of the ‘debts’ I have incurred on our account. The jewellery box scenario is not something to recommend, but it did happen. And Reinout, my then to be husband, had to go back to the store owner and literally threaten him to get back the heirlooms. Out he came, with my rings plus a candlestick holder that he took fancy of.

Such is the life of the Waldau-te Brake’s...

Truce?

Food for thought

Dinners are perfect ways of getting to know people. Instead of inviting someone over for an afternoon job interview, invite them over for dinner. The devil is in the detail, and the details accumulated paint the picture. It can be daunting, especially for the one invited, but it also creates a perfectly relaxed atmosphere putting everyone at ease. Today was one of those dinners at our home. I can’t say what the outcome will be, but the subject in question fitted perfectly in with our soirée of friends. As the evening progressed, so did the wine and conversation, and we were all pretty eager to share our knowledge of history trivia. I must confess I’m quite a history buff, and on top of this extremely competitive. I was in fact one of those terribly annoying kids in school, sitting on front row and waving my hand for the teacher to take notice. This infantile behaviour makes its comeback now and then, especially when it comes to games and discussions. I completely lunge myself at the subject, dissecting every little detail, until my guests become utterly bored or confused, or in some cases both.

Fortunately there were more than one history buff at the table, and so I was in good company. If it was up to me, he’s hired!



dinner leftovers

Counting down the days

Just back from lunch in town with Victoria. Christmas and Saint Nicholas decoration are lighting up the gloomy streets. Can't wait until December! I'm already dreaming of Christmas tree, Glühwein (mulled wine) and saffron bread! Today is exactly 2 weeks until we are going on a long-wekend to Disneyland in Paris. Victoria is counting down the days



Saint Nicholas and his helpers are in town



cakes and bagels



Victoria strikes a pose



me

I'm inspired by...

This morning I was woken up rather late by my husband with coffee, the obligatory vitamine drink, and a laptop. In this order, the laptop takes priority, and as usual I launched firefox to check out email and news. But today is not any day, and there were other much more important things on the web horizon – the launch of MMOhub.org, THE portal for free massively multiplayer online games.

This is the first site of MMO Life, a company Reinout founded less than 5 months ago. It’s amazing to see something coming to fruition, from conceiving the idea in early June, a time which was rather volitile and uncertain to getting the team together to the first site launch. I have all respect and admiration for that, a feat that is not inconciderable knowing what he’s been up against.

It got me thinking how important it is to have people around you that inspires, back you, are critical yet caring. It’s a matter of finding the right synergy. If it’s not there, it’s time to move on. It’s true for relatonships, friendships as well as in professional life. Yet we often stay in half bad situation, because of convenience and perhaps concerns of the unknown. This is also one of the reasons I started this blog. This is a time of change and I wanted to document my thoughts, feelings, decisions and actions. It helps me see thing more objectively and hopefully take better decisions. Everything starts with you, and you alone.



an inspirational note from Reinout early this year

a perfect dinner conversation

I just came out of a hot, steamy shower. Perfect ending to a never ending day. My sore throat has gradually receded to a dull ache. Unfortunatly my sexy, husky voice has disappeared too. In fact it was the best compliment I’ve gotten in months from someone other than my husband, when a colleague pointed out that my voice sounded incredibly sexy. That remark alone got me through the rest of the day.

I left office rather early, 5.15 pm as I had a dinner to attend to. Our guest this evening was Reinout’s notary and good friend Peter. As always, meatballs were on the menu. They’ve got a strong reputation by now, and whenever Reinout is looking to close a deal, make his point, get what he wants (but not necessarily deserve), meatballs are on the menu. So far so good....the strategy seems to work.

Evening progressed and we shared many war stories, from encounters with the Royal family to the Amsterdam criminal world. Two seemingly wide apart subjects, but neverthless rather close considering Princess Mabel’s past history with the liquidated, infamous drug baron Klaas Bruisma. But as the Dutch society is all about equal opportunities, we’ve naturally accepted such a minor faux pas. After all don’t we all have our hidden skeletons?

And on that note, it’s time for me to say good night, before I loose myself in an endless diatribe....



meatballs



smile...NOT



hungry eyes

boy vs. girl

We have this battle at home, about whether it will be a boy or a girl. Reinout is adement it will be a boy. After all he is the alpha-male (according to himself), and alpha-males produce Y-chromosomes. So far so good, until last week... It started with an ordinary meeting, with a rather unordinary man. A very interesting discussion errupted and as discussions go, grew organically until the subject of kids. “Do you know if it’s going to be a boy or a girl?” Glenn asked me. I gave the usual rant about that it had to be a boy, but to be honest I wasn’t completely sure. Glenn looked at me, and spoke “It’s going to be a girl.” I lit up, not because I wouldn’t want to have a boy, but I was thinking of all those cosy shopping sprees, and in a few years Barbies and the like. But how could he be so sure? Glenn went on to tell me that he used to work in a fertility clinic and developed a sixth sense for sex prediction. I was convinced...

And if this was not evidence enough, I did find some interesting research on the subject of diet and determination of sex....read more here
Reinout, it’s a girl!! You will be outnumbered in our family, so you better get used to it. In the meantime I have a destinct tune in my head “I’m a Barbie girl...”

social agenda

The day is going towards its end but my mind does not. It’s full of ideas , action items, project plans and dinner appointments. Due to all the work I have tried to reduce get-togethers to a minimum, but as November and especially December tend to be very social months, my agenda is filling up. Tomorrow we have dinner with Reinout’s lawyer whose brains I need to pick for the start up of a new company (and the ending of another). Wednesday I have dinner with a girl who I have only met once but completely clicked with. We’ve been in touch on and off but haven’t seen eachother for over a year although she lives just around the corner...really looking forward to this. Thursday will be a working evening and Friday is reserved for utter relaxation. Saturday I have a well deserved facial plannned for the morning and in the afternoon we have a friend and his girlfriend over who are in the contracting business. He will give us a quote for a “fresh-up” renovation of our house, to give it a new coat of paint and a well deserved floor polish.

Busy, busy, busy...in order not to forget to relax I ran a bath, and treated myself to a mini-facial....Bliss!



pure luxurury comes in big...



...and small packages. Love the Lush Blueberry facial. Nice and cool straight out of the fridge.

Body hang-ups

Gaining weight is difficult to cope with for most. Gaining weight during pregnancy is a hell hole. My pre-pregnancy weight was 52 kg, hard maintained with a 5 day a week excercise regime, atkins diet and a busy life style. Even with all that hard work it was still difficult to keep, but I managed. I found out I was pregnant in June, and the first months were no problem in keeping the 2. I was feeling ill and didn’t have much of an appetite. But things changed when we went on our vacation to France. Typically I actually loose weight during holidays, due to sun, sea and a lot of beefsteaks. But this time the pastas were luring. I hadn’t had pasta in years, and those spaghetti carbonara and al pesto were talking to me 24/7.

That holiday alone I gained 5 kg. Coming home I decided to be strict, eat as healthy as I could, 3 main meals and two snacks. But even so the kilos kept piling on. Soon enough I broke the 60 mark. My goal was to gain 12 kg all in all, and 64 kg became a fixed target albeit a target that I didn’t want to reach. The 64 kg barrier was breached a month ago. 5 and a half month and another 4 months to go. I was in dispair! Every measure I took, seemed to be in vain. OK, I managed to keep 64 for a few weeks, but if I was thirsty one evening, then it was there immediatly the next day. It didn’t even matter that it was all water and tea I drank. I now start feeling a great appreciation for those men and women that go on one diet after the other without any results.

This morning I stood on the scale and to my horror it landed on 66kg! Being realistic I had already moved THE target from 64 to 66 with an absolute promise not to gain one more ounce than that.

The next 2.5 months will be an interesting period trying to maintain a weight whilst my belly is inflating. And in all fairness it’s so trivial, when a healthy kid is all that matters.

I have a grueling fitness program to look forward to in the New Year....



why did I ever complain about this?



...after my pasta infusion 3 months later



...yesterday

Who is Sinter Klaas?

Sundays are great. It’s the most multifunctional day of the week. A typical Sunday starts with sleeping in late, coffee and news in bed, hitting the gym, lunch in town or if Victoria is at home, pancake house in a nearby forrest. The afternoon is reserved for work (I feel most inspired on a Sunday), followed by wash and ironing whilst watching some TV.

Yesterday was no different. But hitting town, it soon became evident that it was a day like no others. Sinter Klaas has arrived! This makes navigation through town litteraly a nightmare. Kids are taking over the streets, seemingly fighting guerilla warfare to get the old man in the beard. And if not, they are terrorizing his little helpers, Zwarte Piet, for a piece of ginger bread and sweets. We fought our way through the densly populated town square, and drew a breath of relief as we stepped inside the bagel bar for bagels, cheese cake and muffins.




dropping in for lunch at the Bagel Bar



Salmon delux is an absolute favourite



On the way back we bought some treats for Victoria



And I was so happy to find Stieg Larsson's "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" (original title: "Män som hatar kvinnor". On top of this, an interior magazine to get inspired for the house in France