A Short Story Involving Magic

Yes, I have been absent for a long, long time, but it’s been busy in these parts, with lots going on.  I'm making new plans and I will rectify it all soon, but today I saw a little news item and it reminded me of this little short story…..

Once upon a time I was covering one of my very first events. 

A swanky four wheel drive kind of car company created an obstacle course on the top of a building in the lower west side of town, so semi-industrial, I am pretty sure it didn’t have a cutesy name yet. 

So, if you were one of the UES elite invited to the party, you had to navigate through a car showroom and then ride a cargo elevator to the rooftop. 

Then the guests had to wait an excruciatingly long time in an excruciatingly long line for quite possibly the stiffest free drinks ever poured on the island of Manhattan. 

Once they made their way to the bar, they would make their way over to the test drive area, crank up and fly over fake hills and giant puddles.*

It was a pretty beat event as those things go, celebrity-wise. There was an aging actress/model type who had once been ultra famous, with her much younger actor boyfriend.** I was working on a story about them and that was who I was there to interview. 

But there was also a middle-aged magic-type.  He was a “name” but also he showed up to everything. Every single event, ever.

And in the beginning, when I was pretty new to it all, I often got assigned the lower priority events,*** so he and I knew each other a little bit.  This was mainly because he would talk to me incessantly, clearly hoping to get some sort of quote in the magazine.

And on this particular evening, as I was waiting for my five minutes with the couple, he sidled up as he did.  And I gamely asked him a few questions, then waited for him to start telling me all about his next big trick. 

But on this night, he decided to take another tactic.  

He asked about me.  

And then started on that faux-deep sort of soul-searching sort of nonsense.  

He wanted to know if I believed in alternate planes.  Could there be things out there that ordinary humans did not understand?*****

After several long minutes of politely trying to deflect the conversation, he wasn’t letting me scoot past it at all.  

Pressing on, finally he said, “Just tell me, do you believe in magic? What would it take for me to make you believe?”

“Well,” I said, “I would absolutely believe in magic, if you could make a drink appear.”

He disappeared****** soon afterward. 

THE END

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

*Yep, but that is not the point of my story.

**She was a cougar before it was hip. 

***It was excellent practice and fun, too. 

****Now, it’s not that I don’t believe in magic, that is also not the point of my story.  What I do not believe in are phony deep conversations that include equally phony soul-searching looks when I am in the middle of working at an event. Also, I did not want to insult his business or hurt his feelings.  He has been hugely successful at what he does, but do I believe that it is attributed to his connection with a higher plane or some special psychic talent? I just didn’t know. 

*****I am pretty sure that he did not count himself as the ordinary human variety.  This is someone who has made major, major giant things disappear. 

******Via his feet.

Do these socks make my feet look fat?*

Over the past few weeks, I've also been asked:

"Now that you're heading back does this mean you're going to be shutting down or renaming your blog?"

The short answer:
No and no.

The long answer:
Striped Socks and Skinny Jeans was never really about stripes, socks, skinny and/or jeans.**

It's always been about figuring out how to navigate where I am---which right now has been Stavanger, Norway and soon will be Atlanta, Georgia.

I've written about gettting hitched up, being newly married, traveling and having a baby, as well as other weighty topics such as wombats, how not to be burgled, glitter and tobacco.

I've even had contributors.

None of this will change.

So I'm just going to keep on with what I'm doing.

Please feel free to stop back by anytime.  You're always welcome.


_________________
*Horizontal stripes are often not considered a great idea on most body parts unless you are very very brave.  I am not.  But stripes on feet?  I kind of like them.  They just seem friendly.

**The name came from my very first trip to Stavanger, which was not Husband's first trip.  (He's American, but had lived here before, moved back to the US.  Then we got hitched up and moved back to Stavanger for a few years.)

It was early in 2008 and as it often is in these parts, Stavanger was cold and rainy.  But being the optimistic sort that I am, I immediately tried to figure out how to make the dampness less annoying.  And I began with my feet, which if you've ever had really wet and cold feet, you may know that often that makes all the difference.

If you every happen to drop into Stavanger, and really most of Scandinavia, you'll notice that women tend to wear close-fitting pants or leggings, often jeans, tucked into knee high boots. I am convinced that it is less (or at least equal) a fashion statement and more of a practical one.  

On dark, dank days, the last thing you want to do is get the hemline of your pants wet.  Then not only will it eventually creep up your pants, but also will track into your home.

Which brings me to the next bit, the striped socks.  Unless it's a place of business, shoes are never worn inside.  Once you step over the threshold into your home, the shoes are removed.  And really, no one wants to see holey socks.

Also, I just like stripes.

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.

It Does Really Matter (or Please Don't Flip a Bird to the World)

In case you haven't been following the news, there's a US Presidential Election coming up.  

The US economy (which clearly spills over into the worldwide economy) is in dire straits.  It's likely that several Supreme Court seats will come open in the next few years.  We've got several "conflicts" going on around the world, not to mention several non-economic messes at home. 

And that's just speaking in generalities.  

Somewhere in the long, long list of issues the candidates are debating, there is at least one, if not many, that matters to you. 

Whether or not you think you've got a stake in that one issue, believe me, you do.

For instance: 

Maybe you don't have millions of dollars in the stock market, but perhaps you care about the rate you get for your next car loan. 

Maybe you are certain you'll never want or need an abortion, but perhaps you do care about your own right to privacy or have compassion for a victim of a crime.

Maybe you can afford groceries every week, but you really have your eye on a 40 foot schooner and are calculating whether or not your tax return will cover the sales tax.  

Pick your topic, however large or small.  The candidates have radically different plans and thoughts on everything.  The big plan initiatives will trickle down to affect your own life in myriad ways. 

Do your homework and see whose plans you actually agree with and trust.  Read their websites. Listen to them speak and hear what they say. 

(And don't think for a second think that the Vice-Presidential candidate doesn't matter. It does.) 

So vote. 

If you're not registered already, get on it.  

Some states' deadlines hit this Saturday, October 4. 

Both registering and voting are easy and painless.  If you're reading this right now, you have a computer, so click on the sites below.  

Don't trust the internets?  All counties have an office, staffed by real people who will help you. 

And voting, even easier...In some states you don't even have to stand in lines on Election Day in your local elementary school gym. You can vote early.  Perhaps you can even vote via absentee ballot.  

There is no reason not to vote.  

Not only is it convenient, more importantly, it's an amazing, and somewhat unique, right American citizens have. 

All around the world, there are millions of people who would love an election...Not to mention a free election, in which it's okay (and encouraged) to debate openly, then vote without fear of personal repercussion.  

We have the the ability to participate in choosing the direction and path in which our country,  and our own lives will follow. And frankly, much of what this president does will affect the rest of the world as well. 

By not voting, you're not only taking your own freedom for granted, you're also flipping a giant (and prolonged) bird to rest of the world. 

Also, if you're an American citizen and don't vote, please don't complain about the outcome. 

At least not to me.  

___________________________________________

Registration Deadlines begin this Saturday, October 4

Declare Yourself

Overseas Vote Foundation

Rock the Vote

2008 Absentee Voting Information for Americans Abroad

-------------------

NOTE:  And in case you don't read the comments, this what Erin wrote below...I thought it was important enough to pull up here....

Here here sister!

And for our foreign friends that just may have been BORN in the US, check out Vote From Abroad which will get you all set up to vote.

Don't worry, you wont be drafted, taxed, or treated any differently if you exercise your right to vote!

Langston Hughes Was Writing About Big D

There are very few things better in the entire state of Georgia than Big D's bed. Giant, king-sized, four-poster---It's just the right amount of firm and always has the exact right amount of pillows.

Best of all, it's big enough for Mom, my sister and me to pile into to watch television, play Scrabble or just hang out and visit.

And we do, almost ever single time we stay over at D's house.

But, no matter how late it gets or how big and comfortable her bed is, my sister and I rarely sleep in it for just one reason:

Big D snores.

For such a small person, she could easily pass, on a particularly good night, as the subject of a Langston Hughes poem, specifically one called "Morning After."*

But right now, I sit in her hospital room and listen to her snore, tonight much more faintly than usual, I love the sound.

She's had a tough day.

The surgeries were long and brutal, but went the best they possibly could. All the cancer has been removed. The lymph nodes are clear. And the initial phase of the reconstruction went well.

The next few weeks and months of recovery are going to be tough, starting with tomorrow.

We won't know for sure what, if any, the follow-up treatment will be until the pathology report comes back next week.

But right now, today, everything sounds about the best it can.




*Morning After
By Langston Hughes

I was so sick last night I
Didn’t hardly know my mind.
So sick last night I
Didn’t know my mind.
I drunk some bad licker that
Almost made me blind.

Had a dream last night I
Thought I was in hell.
I drempt last night I
Thought I was in hell.
Woke up and looked around me—
Babe, your mouth was open like a well.

I said, Baby! Baby!
Please don’t snore so loud.
Baby! Please!
Please don’t snore so loud.
You jest a little bit o’ woman but you
Sound like a great big crowd.

Shin-dig in Storhaug

Last night Husband and I went to an inflyttningsfest (literally a "moving party" Flytte=move or relocate, Fest=party), which is a housewarming party.


(We're in their kitchen.)

But before we went into the kitchen, we stopped at the door to take off our coats and our shoes.



Please see name of blog above. That is why. Socks are important here. Shoes go off practically the moment you enter a house. So good looking socks and clean smelling toes are of paramount importance. Especially if you are popular, I suppose. Which I also suppose would only be the case if the socks and toes were in order...


Our friends, Erin and Kyrre, are new to their home in a neighborhood just up the hill from our house. Because most of the boxes were unpacked, it was time to have everyone over. Erin is American, by way of Brussels, and Kyrre is Norwegian, so the inflyttningsfest guest list was an international mix.


(That's Erin on the right. If you'd been around, I'll bet she would have invited you, too. She's friendly like that.)

If you can bear the 8 seconds of this, listen closely and not only will you hear English by way of me thinking I was taking a photo, you'll also hear Spanish and Norwegian as well.



This is the photo I was trying to take...




Packed into the living room, kitchen and most of the house were, among, others:
1) Kyrre's Norwegian colleague from Stavanger University who bikes to work everyday, even in the rain. When she had to take her children to nursery school, they rode in a cart attached to her bike. Thankfully it was mainly downhill. Now they walk. The children, I mean. She still bikes. Every day. Even in the rain.

2) A consultant from Maryland who works at NATO (whose offices are housed in the middle of a giant hill. He doesn't get to work in the middle of the hill. He has to work in a rickety temporary offices outside. Which I guess is okay because he's a temporary worker.)

3) Hilarious Norwegian friends of friends who attempted to explain some fact of Norwegian culture to me.



It was completely mixed and was not quite English and not quite Norwegian.



I am not sure I understood it. At least not completely.

4) A group of Spanish and Mexican couples who moved to Stavanger because their husbands work for the oil companies. One husband looked a lot like Alfred Molina, the actor. (But not as the scary Dr. Ock, more as the kindly Dr. Ock. But still tall and friendly.) The Spanish woman made a tortilla, which is kind of cake made of onion, egg and potato. Another one is slightly sassy. (Scroll up to group photo. Sassy is in blue shirt. She's the one you want to stand next to at parties and hope you're lucky enough to hear one of her slightly wicked comments. And that's a compliment.)

And that's just who I talked to in the first hour or so.

Loads of fun.

I can't wait for ours.



Small aside....
Right now, Husband is in the living room, pretending to work, but really watching a Discovery Channel show on poots. Apparently poots fueled by brussel sprouts will ruin a dinner party because they will (now please read the following out loud in a posh English accent) "thwack you in the face, if you know what I mean."

Husband Knows Stuff, #1: What is a fjord?

It's been a pretty eventful week thus far and we're back at home for just a night. And only long enough to scarf down Thai take-away and do a load of laundry. Then we will be off again...

But in the meantime, here the initial installment of my newest feature. It's in the rough stages, but will appear sporadically, so please enjoy.

WARNING:
While the expert speaking in the attached video is held in the highest esteem by me, and by people who know, the information is in no way guarenteed to be be accurate.



And if there are any questions you would like for Husband to explain, please leave your questions in the comments. I'll make sure he gets them. Trust me, he knows lots of stuff. Maybe he can help you out as well.

Have a Happy Easter. There's lots to tell and I will early next week.