the march of the emperor

This is one of the most amazing (!) documentaries I have ever seen: March of the Emperor (La marche de l'empereur) . You can watch it here for free (bad sound, though, I'm sorry...)

Wikipedia tells me that the peguins started their journey around a month ago (90 kilometres to walk, for them that's approximately 40 days and more) to get to their breeding place. About now, they should have found their partners and mate. The girls will lay their eggs and walk back to the sea to find some food. The guys will have to wait for them with an egg between their feet, no food for more than 3 months, and additionally withstanding lethal windstorms and temperatures from -60° to -70° C...

This is why the Arctic explorer Cherry-Garrard said:

"Take it all in all, I do not believe anybody on Earth has a worse time than an Emperor penguin."

Oh - and you should definitely watch the following ad :D *lol*

being selfish

Now that the cold season is definitely over, I have to get myself used to people again. Spent most of the weekend in Copenhagen, being completely knocked out by the masses of bodies moving everywhere around me. Lund is such a cosy little place, I'm simply not used to having strangers stepping on my feet and breathing on my neck anymore. Not that I ever really did... Anyway, you know what I mean, don't you...

The result was that I spend 4 days longing for my bed from 10 in the morning; pathetic.
As always, Yoga did the trick.

I just burped out another depressing assignment on the terrorist's mind; very intellectual and too philosophical as usual, and - worst and much to the despair of my teachers - I do mean my idealist ideas...

Now I'm free to relax into my monday-evening-occupation: running my fingers through some luxurious, deliciously soft Alpaca wool and transforming it into a gorgeous, extra-light and extra-warm cardigan just for me-me-me! After all the work for everybody else (pullovers, bears and countless mittens for the shop) I feel like I want to start wrapping myself in handmade purls and stitches.

Yay, call me grandma.

up the little hill

The other day, up the little hill just before where I live, I could see the horizon again. I could smell the sea, and the wind was mild.

When you feel memories bubbling up, so old you probably didn't even exist when they were created,

when the warmth of the sun on your face wakes you up in the morning,

it's spring for sure.

A song that smells just as fresh and clean as spring-time:

baby born

The baby is born, finally!

It took its mommy 60.000 stitches to make, 9 kilograms of wool (although she's certain it weighs less, strangely enough), and 70 days of labour. It's got a front, a back, arms and cables and everything:

It's ready now to roam this earth with its new owner. Farewell, baby!

Ŝtrumpetoj malaperis!

Imagu, amikoj, loĝi en loko (apartamento, fakte) kie ĉiom da viaj vestoj malaperas ĉiom da tempo!

Hieraŭ, plia paro da miaj ŝtrumpetoj malaperis!
Tiuj estis belaj ŝtrumpetoj!
Estis tre belaj, purpuraj ŝtrumpetoj!
Fakte, estis la plej belaj ŝtrumpetoj en la tuta mondo!
Kaj nun, neniam mi povos porti ilin!

La knabinoj ambaŭ diras ke ili ne estas ŝtelistoj, sed mi trovas ke iliaj visaĝoj aspektas tre strange. Tro strange, fakte. Tial mi aktivigos mian esplorpovon kaj solvos la misteron! Estis unu paro de ŝtrumpetoj tro multa!