This is not Daisy

This is not me and that is not my new baby, Daisy.

This is a gorilla in the London Zoo and her new baby.

Image via AP and Jezebel.com

But we're both a bit tired and a bit busy, so please be patient for a few more days because unlike this mama gorilla, I'll be back here soon...

And my sweet Daisy is cuter than this baby gorilla, if you can believe it....

In Which I Explain the Price of Beauty in Norway

I've written about how much I love and miss mani/pedis (scroll down to Number 6), but also how they are mega expensive here, so they only happen for me when we go back to the states.

But, for my very first Mother's Day, Husband and Elliot went to the only place in town, Bare Clinic, and got me a gift certificate for the kind of mani/pedi I love, which means nothing too fancy, just the good, soaking, rubbing, scraping and painting.

First, my hands...the cuticles were trimmed and shaped, then my nails were clipped and filed and then painted.

Next I sat in a comfy chair, which reminded me of the ones in dentist offices, but without the bright lights, tray full of scary shiny instruments and an anticipation of imminent pain.  My feet soaked in a pan of hot soapy water and the polish was whisked off.  The sweet technician rubbed my feet and got every bit of calloused skin off.  Then she polished them properly, which is much more challenging than it looks.

And if it sounds like the sweet, sweet mani/pedi that I used to love...the one that can be had in every major American (and most non-major as well as non-American) city...the one that costs in the range of $17-50 depending on how swanky the venue...

That would be because it is the same.  

The process is similar and even the polish is OPI.  

The difference is that this mani/pedi cost 1490 kroner.* 

And, depending on the day and the exchange rate, that is about $231.  

I say this, not to necessarily share the cost of the present, but to illustrate a bit of the way things work here.

The pricing of these kinds of services are based on the time it takes to perform them.  

The manicure was the 60 minute mani which cost 700NOK ($108ish).  Husband could have chosen the 15 minute one, which is a polish change, or the 45 minute which is in between.  

It is the same with the pedicure. The lower end one is just a polish and the higher end one, which is what I had, takes 80 minutes and costs 790NOK ($122ish).

In comparison, check the price list for the waxing,* which is really when a skilled person smoothes hot wax over chosen and/or various hirsute body parts, covers the wax with linen strips and rips.  

It's pretty quick, or at least, if you're the one having it done, you hope it is.  

So the prices are pretty comparable to the US prices.

Also, the time it took for the mani/pedi (140 minutes) is approximately the same amount of time as it takes to cut and color my hair.  It is also about the same price.

The root of it all, in vastly oversimplified terms, is that everyone is paid a "living wage." Which also means that while a manicurist may not make the same wage as a CEO, proportionally, there is not the same massive difference that there is in the US.  

In related news, one also does not tip. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

*Don't judge or think I'm spoiled.  I'm not, or if I am, it's only a little bit.  I was my very first Mother's Day, so my boys got me my very favorite thing.  It was the best present ever and I appreciated it like crazy.

*Go to XE, if you'd like to convert for yourself.

Some days, my life is a poorly written SNL skit

I love Gawker for a variety of reasons and have spent much too many hours happy hours perusing the site for years.  

I saw this a few days ago and it reminded of Norwegian hospitals.* 

If you're going to have a baby in Norway, you get a letter from your local hospital about 3 or 4 weeks before your due.  That letter instructs you to come in to the birthward to pre-register, which should be a great thing.  

You meet with one of the midwives who will take your info and confirm your details (name, address, etc....).  This midwife is also supposed to make notes about your wishes (all natural vs drugs, language requirements for caregivers, would you like a window, etc....) 

So on the day (or evening) when you came in for the birth, whoever is on duty can pull out your file and be good to go.

This is especially important because the person giving birth (in this case, me) will not have ever met or have ever seen whoever is on duty at that moment.  

The person delivering the baby (in this case, Pickle) will be a complete stranger and just whoever happens to be on duty.  

Yes, the only person I will know at the time will be Husband. 

So when I say this appointment is important, it's because it is. 

Ours was not very successful.  

We had Kari, The Wonder (Mid)Wife.**  

Over the course of our 20 or so minutes, along with our other wishes, we said we'd like a note put into our file that I would like an epidural and that any caregivers should be fluent and comfortable speaking English.

She informed us that because Husband knows some Norwegian, that English speaking wouldn't be as important.***  

And more so, that, if she were the midwife on duty, she'd take an assessment and decide whether or not I could have the drugs, but that it would really be better for everyone if I practiced breathing and used the gas.**** 

After that, I was slightly disturbed, but even more so, when she began chit-chatting while she was typing into our file.... 

___________________________________________

Kari, the Wonder-Wife:  So what do you think of your new president?

Me:  I am thrilled

K, t WW:  Thrilled?

Because I thought she may not have heard me or perhaps didn't understand the vocabulary or some such, I tried again.....

Me:  Thrilled. I think he is a good man and just the right person to deal with the giant mess.  He's got a hard job, though. 

Still nothing.  Just a quick glance and silence.  So I gave it one more try.

Me: But what do you think?

K, the WW:  Oh I don't know.

And, in one last attempt to be cheery, plus clearly she had something to say...

Me: Really? Most people have some sort of opinion.

Kari, the WW: Well, I think a change is good, but I don't; know about a black man. Or any colored really.  And by colored, I mean any colored person other than white. We've only had people that are colored here for about 30 years and I don't think we'd let them run the country.

Me:   Huh. 

Husband, who has been silent until now:   Huh. 

Kari, the WW: Yes, you know how we are here. We like our own people.

Me: That's funny. I guess we just like all sorts of good, brilliant people back in the states.

Kari, the WW:  Well, that's not very Norwegian, is it?
_________________________________________

It was so odd and weird and unfunny, that, in between my rants about the system, we laughed about it until we almost cried. 

I am going to deliver the Pickle in the middle of an SNL skit...and a poorly written, not so funny one, at that.

**************************************************

*Or to be fair, it reminded me of one instance and one midwife in one Norwegian hospital. 

**And no, doctors don't get involved in these parts, unless surgery is needed.

***To be fair, Husband is actually fluent in the Norwegian language, so that note in our file would be valid and totally on point IF Husband was in actual possession of the particular ladyparts from which our Pickle will most likely emerge.  He is not.  I am. My Norwegian is only fluent-ish through Lesson 8 in my textbook.  So being able to ask a shop-person if they have a green sweater in my size won't be as useful in this case.

***The "gas" is the same gas used in the dentist office, in the case you need a bit of drilling.  One friend of mine, who missed the window for an epidural here because they told her to go home.  She took a long walk around the hospital grounds, came back and her daughter was born 90 minutes later.  She used the gas as a last resort and said "It does take the edge off and the mask is useful for screaming into." 

Better than Animal Planet

We've all been watching the West Wing, episode by episode, since the very first month Husband and I started dating*.

We love them.  Not is the show smart and honorable, but full of the fascinating details about government that I never even realized that I wanted to know.  And oddly enough, right now we're now in Season Five, which are the ones featuring the Isreali/Palestinian conflict. 

Afterwards, we had a family discussion about the current situation in Gaza.

*Lillie missed the first few months, but we quickly got her up to speed.

Coffee and Ice Cream?

In a previous (and perhaps future) life, I was a celebrity reporter.*

And, in these pages, I have written about some of the fairly clear delineations between the different levels of celebrity. 

But here's another tip, one that is really not a new story, but one I started thinking about as we were wandering through Nice this week....

Many celebrities do some kind of advertising in other parts of the world, often in markets and in mediums that would be considered career suicide,** if they took part in them in the United States.  

And up until recently, most included a clause in the contract forbidding the ads from running in the US. 

But who could blame them for signing up for the ads?  It's piles of dough for relatively little work.  

For instance, just for a few tiny examples...Michael J. Fox shills for a Japanese energy drink whose slogan is "Good Afternoon!" Jennifer Aniston starred in Heineken beer commercials around the world and credit cards in the UK. And Japan is a huge market for the ads, many of which can be seen on Japander (which doesn't seen to be running well right now...)  

But it's widely accepted and usually really funny, too and often a slight indication of the level of celebrity enjoyed by the star....

So here's your quiz question...

Which celebrity is on the fairly untouchable REALLY BIG LIST, which is even higher than A level? Which celebrity is firmly settled (for now at least) on one of the slightly less prestigious letters of the alphabet?

Example A)

An advertising campaign for a coffee-like beverage---seen on giant groupings of poster panels in French airports, hilarious prime time commercials and back covers of major magazines.

Example B)

An advertising campaign for ice cream---seen on a stand-alone poster outside of a cafe on the top of Nice's Castle Hill, which is a hill, but is no longer home to a castle.

  

*To be clear:

Celebrity reporter does not equal paparazzi. 

To be more clear:

Paparazzi jump out of bushes armed with cameras, I used to knock on doors (among other adventures, which included but were not limited to red carpets, nightclubs, fried chicken in kitchens, backstages, etc....) armed with a tape recorder and a pad of paper.

**Or perhaps merely a fairly serious form of cutting.

bikinis and loathing

Here's what I am thinking on today....

1) I love my new (slightly tacky) metallic green H&M $20 bikini more than the (tasteful) green $200 Calvin Klein bikini I saw in a swanky boutique.

and

2) My sun scorching hate for Car has been downgraded to mild loathing.