The Twisted Gypsy

Do you ever get the feeling that you are just doing slight variations of the same thing over and over and over again? I guess it is the essence of what life hands us- the everyday, familiar patterns that no matter what cannot be broken. The sun rises, we rise, we eat, we go about our daily business, we communicate, we eat some more, we move around, we meet people, we eat again, we consume some entertainment and then we sleep.

Cooking here has really made me think about his for some reason. I make meals here, with ingredients that seem similar enough to those that I use in the States and each time, I hope that the result isn’t something along the lines of dog food. Most of the time, it works out okay. There was a time I was trying to make this Mexican roll up dish that my mom makes and I bought a can of tomatoes with peppers mixed in, thinking it would be a substitute for rotel. Umm. No. They were sweet peppers. So, it turned into more of an Italian dish, not bad, just not what I expected. Then, the other day, I bought this packaged dough that I thought I could just stuff with chicken and vegetables and have a little pocket of goodness. It worked…sort of…it is just that the dough turned out to be that really flaky, croissant like dough (which it did NOT look like in the picture.) Umm, can you say greasy belly ache? Then there is my constant quest for a machine that will puree things and make it possible to make my family’s delicious salsa recipe. I mean, I was so intent on finding a way to bring that salsa to Sweden that I actually brought a little chopper with me over here. It wasn’t until I got here with it that I realized that the two prong plug has a fat end on one of the plugs and will not fit in my adaptor. That caused a minor melt down. So, for now I am settling for ‘almost’ but not quite. It is good lesson for me to be forced to learn…but of course, I don’t like it.

This is semla:

In Sweden, it is a tradition to eat it on Fat Tuesday. Unfortunately, I love semla and unfortunately, it will make you embody the very name of this day.

Here is wikipedia’s description:
Today, the semla consists of a cardamon-spiced wheat bun which has its top cut off and insides scooped out, and is then filled with a mix of the scooped-out bread crumbs, milk and almond paste, topped with whipped cream. The cut-off top serves as a lid and is dusted with powdered sugar.

Make it. Find it. Eat it. You won’t regret it.

A week or so ago, we went to hear some famous, Swedish folk artist play traditional music. I have been to something similar to this before, so I knew what I was getting myself into. Actually, I throughly enjoy the music and especially love the dancing. Unfortunately, there was not a lot of dancing (only once) because of my, what I like to call, my “Nancy Carrigan” knee.

Anyway, after the concert ended, all of the musicians in the audience were ready for a jam. However, the place (that I guess usually stays open for them) was going to close. So, Kalle offers to have an ‘after fest’ at his apartment. Notice I said apartment.

We arrive and from the hallway, we can’t hear a thing. Kalle opens the door and suddenly we are hit in the face with a loud rush of 7 fiddlers there in the middle of the living room playing feverishly. It is loud. Kalle closes the door again, with all of us on the outside, and there is almost silence. The sound proofing is unbelievable. It was almost like he was hitting pause on a CD and then play as the door opened.

So, more and more people arrived (by this time it is one in the morning) with more fiddles, guitars, some guy with a soprano sax and 2 key fiddlers. It was suddenly a full on folk festival in a studio apartment in Stockholm in the middle of the night. Even the guys who played the show earlier in the night were there.

I took a try with the fiddle, playing one note to an entire song. I am pretty sure I did not miss my calling.

By 3:30a.m., the party has split up a bit, into different fiddling explosions. There was one group in the ‘living room,’ one in the kitchen and little did I know until I opened the door to use it….

…one in the bathroom. Please take special notice of Jonas (on the left) with his cello, on the toilet. Awesome.

James Taylor has the words for every occasion…

Beneath the tide the fishes glide
Fin to fin and side to side
For fishy love has now begun
Fishy love, finny fun

Paper moon, paper heart
Pink balloon, work of art
Al Capone, Bugs Moran
Valentine’s Day

Bootleg gin, porkpie hat
Dew Drop Inn, dirty rat
Through the heart, Cupid’s dart
Valentine’s Day

Day to repay the one that you love
Gentlemen take off your hats as I speak thereof
Just a brief break from the push and the shove
We may go a few rounds without boxing gloves

Land your punch, I stand my ground
We break for lunch and a second round
We set them up, we knock them down
Valentine’s Day

Me and you, you and him
Him and her, us and them
We keep score, love as war
Valentine’s Day

I lost my teeth, I lost my hair
I lost my mind, you don’t care
Love is war, all is fair
On Valentine’s Day

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Since it is Friday, here is a blast from the past treat for you. I give you Carrie, sixteen years old, wearing a sweater with denim collared shirt underneath it, spicy, thinking she knows everything, about to find out she is wrong.

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I am in Gävle for a couple of days hanging out with Hank, Em and Harry. A list of new Swedish words that Harry is teaching me is to come. What better way than to learn than from a 3 year old?
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Today is Friday the 13th and it also happens to be my Uncle Phil’s birthday. If you have moment to say a ‘hope’ for him, please do. Today of all days, he needs it.
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This week, I went to see The Buddy Holly Story in Stockholm. I must say, I was skeptical going into the theatre, but was happily surprised at the performances. However, I didn’t know that Buddy Holly spoke Swedish? Weird=)
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This is the lone photographic survivor of my first ski trip (that my MCL is still recovering from a month later.) Yes, I look like I belong in the ’special club,’ but that helmet saved my soft brain from the very hard ski that went slamming into it as I tumbled down the mountain. Hotness? Or brain intact? I chose my brain. Go figure.

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Sunday was a very strange day in Stockholm. Late in the afternoon, a very thick fog (not unlike the fog that I imagine to be present through out Sweeney Todd’s entire life) settled in over everything. We went out to this cool area of town where there are museums and a zoo and theme park. They had all just closed….and the fog was getting thicker and thicker…and of course we walk right by the creepy, closed down, winter covered, fog engulfed theme park. At the end of the path, there is a ferry boat that will take you back to central Stockholm. We got on the ferry (did I mention how foggy it was?) and within 2 minutes of motoring, we could see nothing. Nothing. Just the water below us (full of ice that kept thumping the sides of the ferry and all I could think about was the Titanic) and the fog. It was the coolest thing. We could have been the last people on the earth.

After a few minutes, we start to see lights in the distance that seriously look like a space ship. I am pretty sure in reality that it was an apartment complex lit up with peoples lives that were happening, but in my mind, the aliens were going to attack at any moment. It is days like that day that I really wish I had a video camera implanted in my eyeballs so I could use the footage to make some art….and a million dollars.
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Animal love makes me teary eyed.

Who says animals don’t love?
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One time I left Jack, the giant orange cat, with my parents for 4 months. When I walked through the kitchen door and my mother called him into the kitchen, and he came…and then he saw me…and he made the weirdest sound I ever heard him make, from his gut. He then ran right to me. Yeah, yeah, it had only been 4 months, but I was overcome with his reaction. Of course, he then proceeded to punish me for a week, but that is beside the point.

This video reminded me of that moment in the kitchen (not unlike the landscape of Africa shown here…haha!) and of course, once again, made me teary eyed.

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After all the awkwardness and stumbling around, I now know that this is a sole truth:

“The words we speak and think hold great sway over the kind of life that we create for ourselves. Many people live their lives plagued by negative thoughts and never even realize this. They tell themselves and others that they are doomed to fail, not good enough, or not worthy of love, yet they are amazed when their reality starts reflecting these words. Just as the subconscious mind accepts as truth the critical statements we tell ourselves, however, it is also equipped to instantly accept the veracity of our affirmations.”

Read the rest of this article here:
http://www.dailyom.com/articles/2009/17198.html
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This is my 300th blog post.
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Blast from the past:

My first I.D.

Blast from the past #2, also known as “Carrie has no camera.”

A picture I took of the Spangler family (minus Martha) at a wedding in Key Largo, Florida I believe in 2004. All the girls were ‘junior bridesmaids.’ This picture is priceless…one of my favorites.
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This is my Mother and her brother, my Uncle Jim. The look on his face in this picture, well, just look at it:

That look is TROUBLE!

I have been away from the apartment in Stockholm for 10 days (all around the South of Sweden) and just returned last night. Somehow I had that old feeling I used to have when returning to Chicago after time in Kansas. It is linked to living in a city and having everything take 30 minutes longer than it should and having to plan ahead for the evening when you leave in the morning because it doesn’t make sense to go all the way back to the apartment before going out and inflation in the price of everything and no car (just for back up) and feeling lonely when surrounded by thousands of people. The feeling struck me today and took me a little off guard. I really do love it here. Stockholm is an amazing city and I live in a very central, happening part of this city. However, it IS a city. And with that comes the exact same trials whether that city be in America or Sweden or China for that matter. There has to be some sort of balance out there between rural life and city life. I am not sure what it is quiet yet, but I am determined to find it.
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I was going through my “draft” blog entries (basically ones that I started and never finished) and came across one that I think is my very favorite. Here it is:

Title: “YES!”
Entry: (completely blank)

Total brilliance, right?
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Since I still have no camera, I am going to start a series called “Blast From the Past.” Here it begins, Salina, Kansas, New Year’s Eve 1999 on Scott Haden’s porch…just before a trip to Indian Rock:

Top Left to Right: Tim Bunker, Ryan McCall, Jacob Knoll, Jonathan Huskey
Middle Left to Right: Matt McGaughey, Scott Haden Nathan Tysen, Joe Hagen
Bottom Left to Right: Misty Bell Stiers, Jamie Johnson, Me
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