tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6834343829518356472024-02-07T18:19:54.386+00:00Carlos Eriksson, Oh, look ↴I have now semi-officially moved the blog to <a href="http://www.carloseriksson.com">www.carloseriksson.com</a> where all future posts will happen. Soon I will migrate all the posts from here to their new home.Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comBlogger423125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-75742788293214992682014-03-11T22:35:00.001+00:002016-01-01T22:00:54.161+00:00The End Of A Motherfucking Era<a href="http://carloseriksson.com/blog/the-end-of-a-motherfucking-era">This entry has been given a new home at carloserikssson.com</a>.Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-73559540341233029892014-03-06T11:00:00.000+00:002016-01-01T22:00:38.524+00:00Setting the number of decimals in Sublime and Emmet<a href="http://carloseriksson.com/blog/setting-the-number-of-decimals-in-sublime-and-emmet">This entry has been given a new home at carloserikssson.com</a>.Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-75741440455075345522014-03-04T11:00:00.000+00:002015-06-17T23:17:31.641+01:00Arrrgh You Rrready To Shiver Me Timbers<a href="http://carloseriksson.com/blog/arrrgh-you-ready-to-shiver-me-timbers">Arrrgh You Rrready To Shiver Me Timbers has been given a new home</a>.
Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-89689013588383840402014-03-01T00:39:00.003+00:002016-01-01T22:00:25.284+00:00At Least It Wasn’t Lupus, Conclusion<a href="http://carloseriksson.com/blog/at-least-it-wasn't-lupus-conclusion">This entry has been given a new home at carloserikssson.com</a>.Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-73663256029071375342014-01-04T18:37:00.001+00:002016-01-01T22:00:06.773+00:00At Least It Wasn’t Lupus, Part 2<a href="http://carloseriksson.com/blog/at-least-it-wasnt-lupus-part-2">This entry has been given a new home at carloserikssson.com</a>.Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-59093054080013160642014-01-04T18:25:00.000+00:002016-01-01T21:59:33.861+00:00At Least It Wasn’t Lupus, Part 1<a href="http://carloseriksson.com/blog/at-least-it-wasnt-lupus-part-1">This entry has been given a new home at carloserikssson.com</a>.Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-79908212327640074762013-12-31T13:44:00.001+00:002013-12-31T13:44:43.760+00:00I'll Be Seeing You, In Two Months<p dir=ltr>I'll be more forthcoming later on but for now, here's hoping your New Year will start out better than ours. From the Eriksson family, Happy New Year to all of <font color ="#000000">you!</font></p>
Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-91180583940905315992013-12-27T11:39:00.000+00:002013-12-27T11:39:35.543+00:00Another Christmas In PicturesAnother Christmas has gone by and with that, here’s this year’s December in the form of an slide-show. Everyone loves a slide-show, right?<br />
<br />
Enjoy.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-12155068995347006322013-12-24T23:26:00.000+00:002013-12-24T23:28:54.369+00:00Santa Goes Medieval On Everyone’s AssesIt’s Christmas Eve and the evening when we—Nordic people—celebrate Christmas, because well… why exactly should we wait another day if we don’t have to?<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
Exactly.<br />
<br />
Which is why I’ll leave you with a little story—don’t worry <a href="http://benjaminhorn.se/" target="_blank">beije</a>, it’s a short one—for now. I’ll write a longer post some other day but right now, I just want to celebrate Christmas.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Santa Goes Medieval On Everyone’s Asses</b></div>
<br />
Our story starts as any other with the arrival of Christmas Eve and the first of the two nights that Santa has to work. You see kids, some countries celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve and some celebrate it on Christmas Day. Which meant that Santa had to work twice as much as you might think and still that ungrateful ass hole would complain about “unhealthy long work hours”, despite sitting on his fat ass the remaining 363 days.<br />
<br />
Anyway.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPgJydmEAg1PL9sSSqAnI0dpY9-aMqlU2lckfPwbiftAH6wM89_yOj11l9QQeZ948ztukYfl1bKjtoXdYOUQ72sJ0yu6VLIOj_zQnjV4hXYBBU1L_e_9r9TpZLzS7eaR1xKKxuI5vY2-9s/s1600/santa-goes-medieval-on-everyones-asses-part-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPgJydmEAg1PL9sSSqAnI0dpY9-aMqlU2lckfPwbiftAH6wM89_yOj11l9QQeZ948ztukYfl1bKjtoXdYOUQ72sJ0yu6VLIOj_zQnjV4hXYBBU1L_e_9r9TpZLzS7eaR1xKKxuI5vY2-9s/s1600/santa-goes-medieval-on-everyones-asses-part-1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">“Ho, ho— I’m stuffed”</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Like all the years before, Santa had just finished his pre-flight meal and was feeling as bloated as he usually felt—complaining about that as well, of course—and was getting up from the table to check on his sledge.<br />
<br />
Little did Santa know that Frosty had been snooping around the night before.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrmpGbkAODmextZbBlmz33d_GuKTAW0nnKOknUrO_68wIGzFM84Vgn0Jus2vXb4K9IVQjsPthw7loGsLhPyEEaM9N1X9qvZs2GpLbJMVNE1NR8NlQSjsvgn6jHCM9Uwlomt4yHq6fxpanP/s1600/santa-goes-medieval-on-everyones-asses-part-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrmpGbkAODmextZbBlmz33d_GuKTAW0nnKOknUrO_68wIGzFM84Vgn0Jus2vXb4K9IVQjsPthw7loGsLhPyEEaM9N1X9qvZs2GpLbJMVNE1NR8NlQSjsvgn6jHCM9Uwlomt4yHq6fxpanP/s1600/santa-goes-medieval-on-everyones-asses-part-2.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">“Oh no!”</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
You see for Santa was in great debt, so Frosty The Snowdouche had decided to wreck his sledge.<br />
“Oh no, oh crap! Why would that fucker do that?”, Santa cried out realising that he would have no way to deliver presents to the people who celebrated Christmas.<br />
<br />
“Meh. Fuck ‘em”, he said to himself wondering what Krampus was doing tonight. Maybe they could get together for a poker-night?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8913uuasSfgUxZ2845TA_EVoOfJKoU-IryCpdBl5ME07Yl1RPDq1gnuRPHIkqRJvw3cpwwqzIgJQssc6qHIki_0WQ5MwWpdLjYrkpiuv9h459sVni7p6OmwsiF6QSRvKhq_ekTdjXazW6/s1600/santa-goes-medieval-on-everyones-asses-part-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8913uuasSfgUxZ2845TA_EVoOfJKoU-IryCpdBl5ME07Yl1RPDq1gnuRPHIkqRJvw3cpwwqzIgJQssc6qHIki_0WQ5MwWpdLjYrkpiuv9h459sVni7p6OmwsiF6QSRvKhq_ekTdjXazW6/s1600/santa-goes-medieval-on-everyones-asses-part-3.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">“Oh yes”</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
But just as Santa as about to give up he remembered that the Welsh dragon Y Ddraig Goch owed him a favour from a few years back, so Santa called him up, “Yo bitch, my sledge’s all fucked. I needz a favour, word?”<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2fjsAA6Vm3tOwxQIi37A5hDoPks2NdH8iry2i4cXACRHmJM_N4PA6hLqdODUBcvfRCW8N_jL_1yElPKvP4nKfUT23TfeMsLKsnqNw6g0w5izYbdv2yJPxkHuAoCqyVmmQrngb1f9LPeuD/s1600/santa-goes-medieval-on-everyones-asses-part-4-the-end.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2fjsAA6Vm3tOwxQIi37A5hDoPks2NdH8iry2i4cXACRHmJM_N4PA6hLqdODUBcvfRCW8N_jL_1yElPKvP4nKfUT23TfeMsLKsnqNw6g0w5izYbdv2yJPxkHuAoCqyVmmQrngb1f9LPeuD/s1600/santa-goes-medieval-on-everyones-asses-part-4-the-end.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">[hysterical screaming]</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
So Christmas was saved—well sort of at least—for Santa came, riding on a giant fire-breathing dragon, and delivered presents to all the people that survived the ensuing massacre.<br />
<br />
The End.<br />
<br />
Merry Christmas to all. And to all, a good night.Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-77981310925830377652013-12-23T18:00:00.000+00:002013-12-23T18:00:01.017+00:00‘Twas The Night Before Christmas (1)1 days until Christmas. The countdown ends tonight.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi42QhXM6yZJ1-gbYT-Zh6y4DIHc8bbjmDDMFag-6RNjv6mmFONhUOXiM8snoAWRoI829AiYmJwJ3W7zIywmJ1kBOs3EzZohDDTx4pbvF9EQJaCbigil8bsPFX6WaX_qWIRh2bcGm7YbHpN/s1600/01.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi42QhXM6yZJ1-gbYT-Zh6y4DIHc8bbjmDDMFag-6RNjv6mmFONhUOXiM8snoAWRoI829AiYmJwJ3W7zIywmJ1kBOs3EzZohDDTx4pbvF9EQJaCbigil8bsPFX6WaX_qWIRh2bcGm7YbHpN/s1600/01.png" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
On so we’re finally here, “Dan före dopparedan”, the night before Christmas. Back when I was younger I remember how we used to stay up really late on the night before Christmas. In hindsight I’m not really sure why, since there’s no presents to expect in the morning.<br />
<br />
Yeah, unlike here, we would wake to the 24th of December, Christmas Eve to enjoy food and the dragged out wait for 5pm, which was when Santa would arrive with your presents.<br />
<br />
And this is the tradition we have decided to continue with for our son.<br />
<br />
But today, and tonight, is the night before and in honour of that we—my son and I—have prepared a poem for all of you.<br />
<br />
Think of it as our Christmas gift to all of you.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
… </div>
<br />
<b>‘Twas The Night Before <s>Christmas</s> <u>Santa</u></b><br />
<i>As revised by the imagination of a 5-year old and illustrated by his dad, which is me.</i><br />
<br />
‘Twas the night before Santa, when all through the chimney<br />
Not a creature was stirring, not even a bear;<br />
The policemen were hung by the chimney with care<br />
In hopes that a bear soon would be there;<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_SEgveL7bwcNQ-GaXOJfEWTrlwADHocLvTxskjaywUeNOg-JRNF17fhLtcKpjarqq1MtTO_T43XvBLPTkSRv0nGvZbmY-vpKcj5R1v3J3PitiDxVDXF25r0MYt2gLTLJULOogYDlqFFMY/s1600/twas-the-night-illustration-1-by-carlos-eriksson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_SEgveL7bwcNQ-GaXOJfEWTrlwADHocLvTxskjaywUeNOg-JRNF17fhLtcKpjarqq1MtTO_T43XvBLPTkSRv0nGvZbmY-vpKcj5R1v3J3PitiDxVDXF25r0MYt2gLTLJULOogYDlqFFMY/s1600/twas-the-night-illustration-1-by-carlos-eriksson.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I still chuckle at this one.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
The carrots were nestled all snug in their posts,<br />
While visions of sheep danced in their voice;<br />
And girl in her kerchief, and I in my hat,<br />
Had just settled our stomachs for a long winter’s nap,<br />
<br />
When out in the dark there arose such a clatter,<br />
I sprang from the bed to see what was the spiders.<br />
Away to the woods I flew like a flash,<br />
Tore open the shutters and threw up the fox.<br />
<br />
The moon on the spaceman of the new-fallen spaceship,<br />
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,<br />
When, what to my wondering legs should appear,<br />
But a miniature lego man, and eight tiny pigs,<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbW31gRFYJmeqZO7xHS8TNLmZyFw3RhyssPnLmG0jQbedYzK3VSlsxtGVfGDz8nzSya2lO5vQtQSFL_wPImlXlpa0_gfcVjS4ruOiu2HiZNx-loO4ihox7SJMfxlM3xoB8YOijQDDojpoj/s1600/twas-the-night-illustration-2-by-carlos-eriksson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbW31gRFYJmeqZO7xHS8TNLmZyFw3RhyssPnLmG0jQbedYzK3VSlsxtGVfGDz8nzSya2lO5vQtQSFL_wPImlXlpa0_gfcVjS4ruOiu2HiZNx-loO4ihox7SJMfxlM3xoB8YOijQDDojpoj/s1600/twas-the-night-illustration-2-by-carlos-eriksson.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah, those are supposed to be tiny pigs and even tinier spiders.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
With a little old man, so lively and Nanny McPhee,<br />
I knew in a moment it must be a stick.<br />
More rapid than parrots his coursers they came,<br />
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:<br />
<br />
“Now, Lucien! Now, Mom! Now, Dad and David!<br />
On, David’s Mom! On, David’s Dad! On, Danny and Amanda!<br />
To the top of the porch! To the top of the cats!<br />
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”<br />
<br />
As dry leaves that before the wild wind fly,<br />
When they meet with a bird, mount to the sky;<br />
So up to the sky the coursers they flew,<br />
With the sleigh full of catapults, and lanterns too.<br />
<br />
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the monster<br />
The prancing and pawing of each little head.<br />
As I drew in my hands, and was turning around,<br />
Down the chimney Santa came with a bound.<br />
<br />
He was dressed all in hedgehog, from his arms to his feet,<br />
And his eyes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;<br />
A bundle of eyeballs he had flung on his back,<br />
And he looked like a bear just opening his eyes.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCdA7tCG2MN_0GWEaqPRSrOCbwCVTdd6zDkLEi3IrEhZzd87T0VnoIBcfu3-_d8Ui-Bk3_O3jgkA3He4I5GxAOAr1PxABkBlG9Ov8RMYT6AFbUpjmcDYfHrVube4-GdismfwDsvBkamDet/s1600/twas-the-night-illustration-3-by-carlos-eriksson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCdA7tCG2MN_0GWEaqPRSrOCbwCVTdd6zDkLEi3IrEhZzd87T0VnoIBcfu3-_d8Ui-Bk3_O3jgkA3He4I5GxAOAr1PxABkBlG9Ov8RMYT6AFbUpjmcDYfHrVube4-GdismfwDsvBkamDet/s1600/twas-the-night-illustration-3-by-carlos-eriksson.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Santa of nightmares.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
His eyes—how they twinkled! His feet how merry!<br />
His cheeks were like eyeballs, his nose like a cherry!<br />
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,<br />
And the salt on his chin was as white as the bear;<br />
<br />
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his hand, <br />
And the ball it encircled his head like a hedehog;<br />
He had a broad face and a little round head,<br />
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of custard.<br />
<br />
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old fishing net,<br />
And I ran when I saw him, in spite of myself;<br />
A wink of his eye and a twist of his fingers,<br />
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to do;<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlczHOk7H84_AIuTxj4TZ0i3e9KHzzolgmOCQpzy4LZQ_AJhH27Wc3T66tUm2Q1HKKtMxHqnezhpxYN4bJaym6azgoD7_69nYsTHJ40PnagkOM9NBhrujsQgwG3geDzwobW7DwQ52DDsdm/s1600/twas-the-night-illustration-4-by-carlos-eriksson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlczHOk7H84_AIuTxj4TZ0i3e9KHzzolgmOCQpzy4LZQ_AJhH27Wc3T66tUm2Q1HKKtMxHqnezhpxYN4bJaym6azgoD7_69nYsTHJ40PnagkOM9NBhrujsQgwG3geDzwobW7DwQ52DDsdm/s1600/twas-the-night-illustration-4-by-carlos-eriksson.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apparently I suck at drawing tigers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his eyes,<br />
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a tiger,<br />
And laying his body aside of his nose,<br />
And giving a nod, up the stairs he rose;<br />
<br />
He sprang to his cave, to his team gave a whistle,<br />
And away they all flew like the down of a bear.<br />
But I heard him roar, ere he drove out of sight,<br />
“Happy Christmas to all of them, and to Lucien a good-night.”Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-14090447437343177202013-12-22T11:00:00.000+00:002013-12-22T11:00:00.431+00:00Carlos’ Countdown ‘Til Christmas (2)2 days until Christmas. The countdown continues.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Oh, how I love Mulled Wine. Or “Glögg”, which is what it’s called in my mother tongue. <br />
<br />
Every year I would drinks litres of this stuff, sometimes mixing it with vodka, sometimes just enjoying it as is. The store bought Glögg you find in any store in Finland doesn’t contain any alcohol—shocking I know!—and could easily be heated and mixed with vodka for a very Merry Super-Jolly Christmas.<br />
<br />
Here though, all the Mulled Wine I find already has alcohol in it which means—<br />
<br />
Well. I’m not really sure what it means, I mean, I <i>could </i>still have vodka in it if I—or you—wanted to but for this recipe, let’s just not. We can still add it later anyway, which would be preferable since we wouldn’t want to heat vodka too much.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjijaZjmxQkupeXgnU_QGmLKU7SsnEf4mD0a6f3VQoRWE1fc2fzt12IihdxK8dbfpwNw9bPRuCb7vcEYy1ZVDWTOBJLG0_yV_L9YiRwNPs0hwDswbAYQVJTyHCQXW00sJeT2-mMpLiQjbF6/s1600/mulled-wine-stolen-from-themummyblogger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjijaZjmxQkupeXgnU_QGmLKU7SsnEf4mD0a6f3VQoRWE1fc2fzt12IihdxK8dbfpwNw9bPRuCb7vcEYy1ZVDWTOBJLG0_yV_L9YiRwNPs0hwDswbAYQVJTyHCQXW00sJeT2-mMpLiQjbF6/s1600/mulled-wine-stolen-from-themummyblogger.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
But that’s enough of that, now let’s make some Glögg.<br />
<br />
This recipe comes courtesy of Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Management, the revised edition dated 1869, which is quite an interesting book that we actually have.*<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
“1961.-TO MULL WINE.<br />
INGREDIENTS.- To every pint (500 ml) of wine allow 1 large cupful of water, sugar and spice to taste.<br />
<br />
Mode.-In making preparations like the above, it is very difficult to give the exact proportions of ingredients like sugar and spice, as what quantity might suit one person would be to another quite distasteful. Boil the spice in the water until the flavour is extracted, then add the wine and sugar, and bring the whole to the boiling-point, then serve with strips of crisp dry toast, or with biscuits. The spices usually used for mulled wine are cloves, grated nutmeg, and cinnamon or mace. Any kind of wine may be mulled, but port and claret are those usually selected for the purpose; and the latter requires a very large proportion of sugar. The vessel that the wine is boiled in must be delicately cleaned, and should be kept exclusively for the purpose. Small tin warmers may be purchased for a trifle, which are more suitable than saucepans, as, if the latter are not scrupulously clean; they spoil the wine, by imparting to it a very disagreeable flavour. These warmers should be used for no other purpose.”</blockquote>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
…</div>
<br />
*As an eBook because this is the 21st century.†<br />
† But actually, if we could find the actual book I would probably buy it in a heartbeat.Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-46825571195835820402013-12-21T14:34:00.001+00:002013-12-21T14:34:34.914+00:00Carlos’ Countdown ‘Til Christmas (3)3 days until Christmas. The countdown continues.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Bkw2p95XMWvsY1Nuo_Vbj0-uQWRXBcnLF1im6ovfWURXj54b50PnsFoZSVitWmUGx36r0T1TBwgnUnZPgR01sBaU4KPZ_l85rRkeYDzxXsqI7LXKYprvLZSq0mYwVMJWAsyHrG0jI1A4/s1600/03.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Bkw2p95XMWvsY1Nuo_Vbj0-uQWRXBcnLF1im6ovfWURXj54b50PnsFoZSVitWmUGx36r0T1TBwgnUnZPgR01sBaU4KPZ_l85rRkeYDzxXsqI7LXKYprvLZSq0mYwVMJWAsyHrG0jI1A4/s1600/03.png" /></a></div>
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<br />
With only 3 days left until Christmas I think it’s only fitting—because I’m pretending that it is—that I share with you 3, quite different, versions of the song “Silent Night”.<br />
<br />
Enjoy… well… some of them.<br />
<br />
First up, Funny.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="332" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/Al_y-v7qcjg?rel=0" width="590"></iframe>
</div>
<br />
Second video—but First place in the “Stinky Turd Cover” -competition—goes to Taylor Swift. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MLVR0LtXqQQ" target="_blank">Christina Aguilera’s cover of Silent Night</a> almost won, because that too is bad. It feels like she makes the whole song twice as long with her stupid singing but at least she—sort of—keeps the sing in it’s original arrangement. This is something Taylor Swift doesn’t do, instead opting for to put her own spin of things. Too bad her own spin is fucking horrible.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="332" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/EZPjwaZ5FCI?rel=0" width="590"></iframe>
</div>
<br />
And last but not least by any measure. In fact, this one is the good one. I give you Michael Bublé, the guy who has the decency to not try to fuck with a classic.<br />
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="443" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/P6BiSiAeIH0?rel=0" width="590"></iframe>
</div>
Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-15536421429510484802013-12-21T14:34:00.000+00:002013-12-21T14:34:00.814+00:00Carlos’ Countdown ‘Til Christmas (4)4 days—but actually 3 days—until Christmas. The countdown continues.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpTm6SELHfsD9I4HXDK-TNB21bMk_8ZG0YSp9DIeGD_LTn2N0u1ubyhH1Khjll026yrWCwYruyFuqekbZhux_Hjw8gXez418onKCmjm3rT75Q_57Ae6FX3DByBpoXXcFCkeQ8M4XfBbw8g/s1600/04.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpTm6SELHfsD9I4HXDK-TNB21bMk_8ZG0YSp9DIeGD_LTn2N0u1ubyhH1Khjll026yrWCwYruyFuqekbZhux_Hjw8gXez418onKCmjm3rT75Q_57Ae6FX3DByBpoXXcFCkeQ8M4XfBbw8g/s1600/04.png" /></a></div>
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<br />
Today I’ll keep it brief with a delightful comic from the equally delightful “Scandinavia And The World” and their “Christmas Traditions”. Enjoy.<br />
<br />
Stupid post scheduling not working like it should making me miss a day in my countdown. Fucker. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://satwcomic.com/christmas-traditions" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvuscfot26lE3WLyisZvBNTaaHsWH78IbMnO_eMtHDAA-Mmd9B9c9TtS4OMyju1CnW83GNQcjgA9mgsisKMVBwYKtT_G3kbjrhtub_T-ZZUUPTR3hgi3vk1oGr5rjd61nHRoE6h6-6JWdp/s1600/scandinavia-and-the-world-christmas-traditions.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://satwcomic.com/christmas-traditions" target="_blank">As usual, click here or on the image to go to the comic</a>.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-71391799940182400432013-12-19T11:00:00.000+00:002013-12-19T11:00:02.100+00:00Carlos’ Countdown ‘Til Christmas (5)5 days until Christmas. The countdown continues.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXTZRFc2FHEkic_vgwsjN34wkoyrgI2aDGfychgkzmn0Rj_xL7jE3-wDpCsxe6XDmRIeDukqS2uUtz0HoS8SJ_dOEB3d2w2aAipOD6HusxdQxlnV1TNHgEgqadNUUsNxgAPNQySe4_Dcn1/s1600/05.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXTZRFc2FHEkic_vgwsjN34wkoyrgI2aDGfychgkzmn0Rj_xL7jE3-wDpCsxe6XDmRIeDukqS2uUtz0HoS8SJ_dOEB3d2w2aAipOD6HusxdQxlnV1TNHgEgqadNUUsNxgAPNQySe4_Dcn1/s1600/05.png" /></a></div>
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<br />
You know what I think you deserve after all those baking preparations you did yesterday?<br />
<br />
Some limericks, that’s what.<br />
<br />
Yeah, I know I know, you’re just lost for words from how blessed and special you feel in receiving this awesome gift. No, save your gratitude for later, I might need a kidney some day.<br />
<br />
For those of you that don’t know what a limerick is, here’s a limerick that explains what a limerick is:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Writing a Limerick's absurd,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Line one and line five rhyme in word,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And just as you've reckoned</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
They rhyme with the second;</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The fourth line must rhyme with the third.</div>
<br />
Clever, right? Well, now that you know what I limerick is, let’s get right to a Christmas one so that this post will have a tangent with the overarching Christmas countdown.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
When Rudolph got hurt in a fight</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He couldn't lead Santa that night</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Too much Christmas cheer</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And eggnog, and beer,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
His red nose was shiny, all right!</div>
<br />
I’ve only written a limerick once before—back in school—and it wasn’t very good, I imagine since I can’t remember it, so bear with me as I try to summarize “The 12 days of Christmas” into a short limerick.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
My true love to me gave</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Birds that I first had to shave,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Pluck, stuff and bake.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Into one giant cake</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That I then ate</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMQBFJAbQuIh_kOllbU0cCmSwuFF6yQyw9PMnCTG_gYaguBTn3rf-g8B2tgpxm3TCXyNnH2bIfXOJpspjtmVwkxpd_uDbQszlov_DKrAWQ3seRLgUKKPMV_WnjQfZTlIZYrp31hmM5yVn_/s1600/there-once-was-a-man-from-nantucket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMQBFJAbQuIh_kOllbU0cCmSwuFF6yQyw9PMnCTG_gYaguBTn3rf-g8B2tgpxm3TCXyNnH2bIfXOJpspjtmVwkxpd_uDbQszlov_DKrAWQ3seRLgUKKPMV_WnjQfZTlIZYrp31hmM5yVn_/s1600/there-once-was-a-man-from-nantucket.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy of Zach Weiner and his wonderful <a href="http://www.smbc-comics.com/?id=547" target="_blank">smbc-comic.com</a>.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
No post about limericks would be complete without the classic, “There once was a man from Nantucket”, so here’s the most offensive one I could find.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
There once was a man from Nantucket</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Whose dick was so long he could suck it.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And he said with a grin</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
As he wiped off his chin,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
“If my ear were a cunt, I would fuck it.”</div>
Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-53178856115265029962013-12-18T11:00:00.000+00:002013-12-18T11:00:01.830+00:00Carlos’ Countdown ‘Til Christmas (6)6 days until Christmas. The countdown continues.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmuHImq4JlmXPQsbeHsUy-FTotk8-wWoj0mkxYfUpIDs7vjTZVsmBVMa1RRT-2ksfqQmQpH1ShiEMFTD7AIbdzsg4CrAO7zokUPNoMHn8Ue7QXxzBLGt3fwUIXK_P6mqW4SFlq0yYbdLLd/s1600/06.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmuHImq4JlmXPQsbeHsUy-FTotk8-wWoj0mkxYfUpIDs7vjTZVsmBVMa1RRT-2ksfqQmQpH1ShiEMFTD7AIbdzsg4CrAO7zokUPNoMHn8Ue7QXxzBLGt3fwUIXK_P6mqW4SFlq0yYbdLLd/s1600/06.png" /></a></div>
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<br />
How exciting is this? Not only is it less than a week until Christmas, but I’ve also officially exceeded last years post count with today’s post.<br />
<br />
In honour of that, and also because we need to get started on this year’s gingerbread cookie dough I present you with the result of last years burden. As you might remember, I was quite obsessed with making gingerbread cookies last year and well… in the end, I settled—for now—on a recipe that builds from my mom’s recipe, which she has used since she was young. Call me nostalgic but having moved to a new country earlier that year I wanted something that felt “home”.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEvFsu89RX7JyJSaACgD9_AaVmWpLzvCeOKRbn5DwmmLUIQQt1MgcstvDqSpGPWOsX10G875OQz0yM66XpMEczb8RRi60O5w0Em92AIP_n-UQmNgSsyhSyn_q8-pQBW1ueNnrIMDirwiWK/s1600/excerpt-from-the-recipe-diary-of-carlos-eriksson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEvFsu89RX7JyJSaACgD9_AaVmWpLzvCeOKRbn5DwmmLUIQQt1MgcstvDqSpGPWOsX10G875OQz0yM66XpMEczb8RRi60O5w0Em92AIP_n-UQmNgSsyhSyn_q8-pQBW1ueNnrIMDirwiWK/s1600/excerpt-from-the-recipe-diary-of-carlos-eriksson.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>The Gingerbread Cookies</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
—Boil and simmer together, put to the side to cool—</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>280 g butter</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>280 g brown sugar</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>60 g dark syrup (treacle?)</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
—Fresh spices are always better but pre-ground will do—</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>12 cardamom pods (2 tsp)</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>2 tsp cinnamon</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>24 whole cloves (2 tsp)</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>2/3 tsp black pepper</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
—Mix, one by one, into the cooled mix of sugar, fat and spices—</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>4 tsp baking soda</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>3 eggs</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>1125 g flour</i></div>
<br />
Make gingerbread dough a day in advance so that you can put in the fridge—my mom always used to put the dough out on the porch for cooling overnight—so that it’s cold and firm for the next day. Will make a good amount of gingerbread cookies for a family of 3. I think. I honestly don’t remember how many cookies it makes. Also, I suppose it depends on how big you make them.<br />
<br />
Anyway, make those fucking cookies and bake them for 5 minutes at 225 °C. Stuff into your talking hole and enjoy.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4gSsBUHtQaMMcj5_1i9ug1pH8niLMjo7awplQVseAQJ-KwAGmlX7HFALwJGZzRODBrnBzSPm48dWpIdK7wk7-QcLKOnLCIeZcyoBNqxn48MfwzXW97wH4_SF2hxqJ75ihEln7Jpgdcwel/s1600/lonely-pig-2012-never-forget.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4gSsBUHtQaMMcj5_1i9ug1pH8niLMjo7awplQVseAQJ-KwAGmlX7HFALwJGZzRODBrnBzSPm48dWpIdK7wk7-QcLKOnLCIeZcyoBNqxn48MfwzXW97wH4_SF2hxqJ75ihEln7Jpgdcwel/s1600/lonely-pig-2012-never-forget.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a picture of last year’s cookies because I haven’t baked this year’s cookies yet.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-14552193640598495562013-12-17T11:00:00.000+00:002013-12-17T11:00:01.104+00:00Carlos’ Countdown ‘Til Christmas (7)7 days until Christmas. The countdown continues.<br />
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<a name='more'></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6szHOBC3Gq0NbC6fmEWXLA56lJCe52Aj9GFhnH96MfK78MdRi_8yLW3z434WIN-ei_UNhnNY6K9VKswtrD6sgiuzckKRcPyvTHZ3Hx61ZY8_V2m1cIGL_l_QOAuDwHOlNINTSsyr7wjBX/s1600/07.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6szHOBC3Gq0NbC6fmEWXLA56lJCe52Aj9GFhnH96MfK78MdRi_8yLW3z434WIN-ei_UNhnNY6K9VKswtrD6sgiuzckKRcPyvTHZ3Hx61ZY8_V2m1cIGL_l_QOAuDwHOlNINTSsyr7wjBX/s1600/07.png" /></a></div>
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<br />
With only a week left until Christmas and all that emotional sharing I think we need something to balance things out and what better than: A Finnish guy punching a deer in the ass. Because that’s how we “deal” with animals standing in the middle of the road.<br />
<br />
Enjoy.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.liveleak.com/ll_embed?f=9e5198ca6e24" width="560"></iframe></div>
Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-18621480607706834232013-12-16T22:05:00.000+00:002013-12-16T22:05:12.984+00:00Carlos’ Countdown ‘Til Christmas (8)8 days until Christmas. The countdown continues.<br />
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Let’s face it, those two previous posts were pretty poo. I was supposed to do a Christmas countdown and in two days I only managed to squeeze in <a href="http://fiinixdesign.blogspot.com/2013/12/my-weekend-at-beije-10.html" target="_blank">a measly link to a Yule Goat</a> (“Julbock”, “Halmbock”) which I didn’t even properly explain anyway.<br />
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<blockquote>
“The Yule goats origins might go as far back as to pre-Christian days. A popular theory is that the celebration of the goat is in connection to the Norse god Thor, who rode the sky in a chariot drawn by two goats, Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr.”</blockquote>
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It would appear that we still celebrate a lot of our traditions in the only way we know how to party, the pagan way.<br />
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So, “Why a Yule Goat?” I’m sure you’re asking and the reason is simple. Before my departure to Stockholm I asked my wife if there was anything she wanted me to bring her from the country of the Swedes. And well, she wanted a Yule Goat because it’s a very dear Christmas decoration to her. And I saw no reason to not abide by her request. I like them too so it’s a “win-win” situation.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnc0Ht0F18DORbYygtUyg51ea2DSYk7BkIoG768paja-qsVJXDEOUvLIi3DuBSW0YRy5vyXOelGMenbZymfuCCAjryic7E6-kKyzDQ3rzBmpXYk06pDiAA-27dFWZtBc1BVQAJKPc-QucG/s1600/the-yule-goat-has-found-its-place-in-the-tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnc0Ht0F18DORbYygtUyg51ea2DSYk7BkIoG768paja-qsVJXDEOUvLIi3DuBSW0YRy5vyXOelGMenbZymfuCCAjryic7E6-kKyzDQ3rzBmpXYk06pDiAA-27dFWZtBc1BVQAJKPc-QucG/s1600/the-yule-goat-has-found-its-place-in-the-tree.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In its rightful place.</td></tr>
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Tricky bastard to find though.<br />
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There, now I’ve explained it, in the as much detail as it requires. Keep in mind that these posts were always supposed to be short and <s>sweet</s> <u>poo</u>.Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-47806861259544085112013-12-15T17:39:00.001+00:002013-12-16T21:57:42.806+00:00The 15 Minute Post (9)<div dir="ltr">
9 days until Christmas. The countdown continues.</div>
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There isn't really much that can be said in fifteen minutes, but that's not going to stop me from trying.<br />
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“Why?”, you might be asking yourself.<br />
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It's simple really, this will be my unfiltered—more so than usually—of my thoughts and feelings as I part ways with Beije and Sthlm.<br />
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Yes, I'm writing this sitting on Arlanda Express, which is why I'm under such a time constraint. After this I won't have internet access until I'm back in the UK but by them it will also be too late to get a post in for today.<br />
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Oh how I've argued over these past couple of days. Benjamin and I enjoy arguing for the sake of arguing even though we have the same opinions most of the time. Comparisons have been made between The destruction of the Death Star and the Third Reich. Things have been said about feminism and equality.<br />
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I'll miss this. I miss having someone to talk to that will take the opposing simply because some one has to.<br />
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The end.</div>
Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-22276062134336117432013-12-14T18:49:00.001+00:002013-12-16T21:57:49.825+00:00My Weekend At Beije’s (10)<div dir="ltr">
10 days until Christmas. The countdown continues.</div>
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Ah, good old writer’s block.<br />
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The number one reason for not getting anything written. And coincidentally the reason this post will be about as short as the previous one, despite that it’s supposed to be a weekly update one. “Gang aft agley” as the expression goes—especially if, like me, you’re picky about saying things in their original language—and this week was very much one, of “agley”.<br />
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Speaking of which, I recently found out that I’ve been pronouncing “mozzarell” wrong all these years. Apparently I’ve been doing it New York -style, swallowing the final “a”, all this time. Imagine my horror.<br />
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Needless to say I’ve of course corrected this grave error and have since started saying “mozzarella”, like it should be.<br />
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Anyway, I was talking about my plans not quite going the way I would have wanted them to.<br />
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So, here I am. Sitting in Stockholm, with Beije and enjoying my weekend ale whilst reluctantly watching the first The Hunger Games films.<br />
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And really the only part of that that wasn’t according to plan, was the choice of film.<br />
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But I did also have plans of continuing my countdown to Christmas with something interesting and vaguely Christmas-themed, so here you go: “<a href="http://hem.fyristorg.com/ingridspetz/0halmbock.jpg">Julbocken</a>”</div>
Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-63324404531791214762013-12-13T11:00:00.000+00:002013-12-13T11:00:01.153+00:00Carlos’ Countdown ‘Til Christmas (11)11 days until Christmas. The countdown continues.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy4BjAprZCS98_kSYHzxP4_n2zME40La3GB6-WAEVQ_0JWtXbjbATg28wVXiTwbg__OUwdiJx1YSyIyvntJBnGG-xDT8kUWcmWrOaZiHpGMzhOw93wrqzCx9fsdLPsGXtd9kxrPnFUHmBg/s1600/11.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy4BjAprZCS98_kSYHzxP4_n2zME40La3GB6-WAEVQ_0JWtXbjbATg28wVXiTwbg__OUwdiJx1YSyIyvntJBnGG-xDT8kUWcmWrOaZiHpGMzhOw93wrqzCx9fsdLPsGXtd9kxrPnFUHmBg/s1600/11.png" /></a>Remember how we put up some extra lights a few days ago? Well, it’s time to add some more lights into the mix with the celebration of Saint Lucia’s Day.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJvVcUdQ3zqLAJAivDCA1ObMTYJ5voLirr3lHc2-UVGojRIVG-oxZqtZvP3z0Wqyq2p3FuVfCovb7lzy3MrUCJvLtbF-KSa8aEi75A8_qBm5PEByMacEjqnpFgIWMoHjf__Q1LBsrfgob7/s1600/carlos-eriksson-goes-to-sweden-to-celebrate-saint-lucias-day.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJvVcUdQ3zqLAJAivDCA1ObMTYJ5voLirr3lHc2-UVGojRIVG-oxZqtZvP3z0Wqyq2p3FuVfCovb7lzy3MrUCJvLtbF-KSa8aEi75A8_qBm5PEByMacEjqnpFgIWMoHjf__Q1LBsrfgob7/s1600/carlos-eriksson-goes-to-sweden-to-celebrate-saint-lucias-day.png" /></a></div>
You’ve—hopefully—baked the buns, I know I have, and you should be getting pretty depressed what with all this darkness around you by now. Cue, a pretty blond girl, or boy, dressed in white—eerily similar to the Ku Klux Klan but hopefully that’s just a coincidence—with candles on her/his head, singing a beautiful tune to cheer you and me up.<br />
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I’m being serious by the way. So serious so, that I’m flying to Sweden tonight—the home of Lucia, expect it isn’t—to <i>really </i>celebrate this not-an-actual-holiday. But actually, I’m going to visit a dear friend—<a href="http://www.benjaminhorn.se/" target="_blank">beije</a>—whom I haven’t seen in over a year and a half.<br />
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I’ll be back on Sunday but don’t worry, I’ll still keep up with my Christmas countdown.<br />
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<blockquote>
“St. Lucy/Lucia is one of the few saints celebrated by the overwhelmingly Lutheran Nordic peoples (Danes, Swedes, Finns and Norwegians). The St. Lucy's Day celebrations retain many indigenous Germanic pagan, pre-Christian midwinter elements. Some of the practices associated with the day predate the adoption of Christianity in Scandinavia, and like much of Scandinavian folklore and even religiosity, is centered on the annual struggle between light and darkness.”</blockquote>
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Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-70014640713542839202013-12-12T11:00:00.000+00:002013-12-12T11:00:01.745+00:00Carlos’ Countdown ‘Til Christmas (12)12 days until Christmas. The countdown continues.<br />
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I hope your talking hole is enjoying those buns. Time to relax again, take a breather before you start cleaning that giant mess you made in the kitchen.<br />
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Here, enjoy a delightful video about a cat. We all love cats, right?<br />
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Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-63395149442990433282013-12-11T13:50:00.000+00:002013-12-17T22:55:05.883+00:00Carlos’ Countdown ‘Til Christmas (13)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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13 days until Christmas. The countdown continues.<br />
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In two days we’re going to celebrate Saint Lucia’s Day. For those of you who have no idea what that is, don’t worry, I’ll explain in all in due—in two days—time. In the meantime you need to get your ass to the store to pick up some supplies, you’re going to be baking buns soon enough and you’ll need some saffron.<br />
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Also, read the recipe properly, I’ve made some important notices where necessary.<br />
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<b>Ingredients (Makes 24 buns)</b></div>
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(1) </div>
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<i>125 g butter</i></div>
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<i><i>300 ml milk</i></i></div>
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<i><i><i>1 g saffron</i> </i> </i></div>
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<i>50 g baker's yeast</i></div>
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(2)</div>
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<i>150 g sugar</i></div>
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<i>700 g all-purpose flour</i></div>
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(3)</div>
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<i>raisins</i></div>
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(4)</div>
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<i>salt</i></div>
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<i>1 egg</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
…</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Directions</b></div>
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(1) Melt butter or margarine—but don’t use margarine, it sucks—in a pan and add the milk and the saffron.<br />
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Warm the mixture to 37 <span class="st">°</span>C using a thermometer, getting the correct temperature is important for a good rise. Also, you don’t want to kill the yeast, you murderer.<br />
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Pour the mixture over the <i>finely</i>—but really, who are we kidding—divided yeast; then add the remaining ingredients (2).<br />
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Mix into a smooth dough.<br />
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Cover the dough with a piece of cloth and let it rise for 30 minutes.<br />
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Knead—Knead like your life depends on it—the dough, divide it into 25-30 pieces and form each piece into a round bun.<br />
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Let the buns rest for a few minutes, covered by a piece of cloth.<br />
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Form each bun into a string, 15-20 cm long, then arrange the string to a suitable shape, making sure the ends of the strings meet. The “S” shapes is a classic, for a reason. Don’t try to mix it up with some other “lesser” letter.<br />
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(3) Press a few raisins—I honestly hate raisins but in these I’ll let that slide—into the dough.<br />
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Cover the buns with a piece of cloth and let them rise for 40 minutes.<br />
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(4) Whip the egg together with a few grains of salt, and paint the buns with the mixture.<br />
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Bake them for 5-10 minutes in the oven at 250 <span class="st">°</span>C until golden brownish yellow.<br />
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Take out, let cool and shove them into your talking hole. Enjoy.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyM64tvdIHpyCLJE_6VrzTeWd3_QSz13DwC_Duf1QTtC_rMr2Qaytam5Lh2uCkq-Nb_bTn-9VoO58MhREA30YWBeH9xUeW6aioaftFiLkWO1-Ar1fv4N6b7DFBT5szp6ItDqP91DBs63V7/s1600/saint-lucia-saffron-buns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyM64tvdIHpyCLJE_6VrzTeWd3_QSz13DwC_Duf1QTtC_rMr2Qaytam5Lh2uCkq-Nb_bTn-9VoO58MhREA30YWBeH9xUeW6aioaftFiLkWO1-Ar1fv4N6b7DFBT5szp6ItDqP91DBs63V7/s1600/saint-lucia-saffron-buns.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These go into your talking hole.</td></tr>
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Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-10645263256763832052013-12-10T17:00:00.000+00:002013-12-10T17:00:00.938+00:0040 days and 40 nights, with DuolingoOr, <i>40 jours et 40 nuits, avec Duolingo</i>, as I would say if I spoke French well enough to do so. Which I suppose I actually kind of do. I say “kind of” because I <i>did </i>use Google Translate for that translation but that’s mostly because I have yet to learn how to say the word “day” in French. Everything else, I totally knew.<br />
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And according to statistics—believing Duolingo’s own “34 hours”—I should now have completed the equivalent of one semester of French.<br />
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So, what’s my experience been like? Honestly?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This picture has nothing to do with this post.</td></tr>
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Words can’t begin to describe how incredible awesome their whole service is. The fact that they offer it for free, with no ads, well that’s just a crowning cherry on top of their already unbelievable Ice Cream Sundae.<br />
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I still find myself surprised at what my subconscious picks up when I think that I haven’t learned anything for a few days but then I’ll notice myself understanding something in French that I haven’t understood before.<br />
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Is it flawless?<br />
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Of course not. Sometimes I wish I could go more in-depth and read about specific grammar rules but instead Duolingo offers me a—sometimes too simple—“You’re incorrect. Moving on”. Though I suppose this isn’t really a critique of the service itself but rather a testament to how learning should target every aspect<br />
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I also feel like I should mention that the Android app got a complete overhaul recently, bringing it up to par with their iPhone and iPad app, giving it some much appreciated profile viewing abilities, something it lacked prior to the update.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTdMekznNFk2eNtVnwT4j4x1HsEK1DF8pdY2qZ5SyqxGsPD-7EG1v4lWj31T7JkQRQzUvgpth_2rJMJcFVGxy9svQZ5pEDt_eBoo5KYWVzH2bv5wVulKekeU4BXjlNs77fTE3Z4cEn9Y0I/s1600/day-39-of-duolingo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTdMekznNFk2eNtVnwT4j4x1HsEK1DF8pdY2qZ5SyqxGsPD-7EG1v4lWj31T7JkQRQzUvgpth_2rJMJcFVGxy9svQZ5pEDt_eBoo5KYWVzH2bv5wVulKekeU4BXjlNs77fTE3Z4cEn9Y0I/s1600/day-39-of-duolingo.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yesterday’s stats.</td></tr>
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Another thing that seems to be possible from their website but not from their app is to practise your weakest words. I would really like to be able to do this from my app but who knows, maybe it will be a feature in the future. I imagine this is only the beginning of where they are taking Duolingo, but it’s already an incredible service. <i>Je suis impressionné</i>.<br />
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So, if you want to start learning a language I would highly recommmend <a href="http://duolingo.com/">Duolingo.com</a>. They currently offer the following languages: Spanish, English, French, German, Portugese and Italian and they’re incubating more languages constantly. I’ve thought about helping them add Swedish at some point.<br />
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I’ll do another post, another 40 days from now, on the 19th of January and we’ll <a href="http://www.duolingo.com/fiinix" target="_blank">see how things are going</a> then because I am determined to stick with this and continue to use it everyday.<br />
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<i>Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with Duolingo.com. I was recommended their service by a co-worker who uses it to learn Spanish and I only wanted to express my thoughts of the service.</i>Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-64188375664435055072013-12-10T11:00:00.000+00:002013-12-10T11:00:01.488+00:00Carlos’ Countdown ‘Til Christmas (14)14 days until Christmas. The countdown continues.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMUem0K5htB_zo3KAlJ_jes9zAotARK3YTLA6jRQ-r5y2hfvLgfQs7_CZapfJZeHMsCREx6XTo7rEID3gNOZ7s5evwIwiAfb3-bgB9ZQLpgUaKlVwzG6NhTTHYflNmrSxdfw5j53WXLy7k/s1600/14.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMUem0K5htB_zo3KAlJ_jes9zAotARK3YTLA6jRQ-r5y2hfvLgfQs7_CZapfJZeHMsCREx6XTo7rEID3gNOZ7s5evwIwiAfb3-bgB9ZQLpgUaKlVwzG6NhTTHYflNmrSxdfw5j53WXLy7k/s1600/14.png" /></a></div>
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Did you get all the decorations up yesterday? Good. Then you deserve to sit down, put your feet up and watch a few sketches from the horribly offensive and super-inappropriate Robot Chicken.<br />
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It’s awesome. <br />
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Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-683434382951835647.post-60463524472337209862013-12-09T11:00:00.000+00:002013-12-09T11:00:03.361+00:00Carlos’ Countdown ‘Til Christmas (15)15 days until Christmas. The countdown continues.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_UGZnocQzqloxjAOaRMvEAEzY_kUpsC96iNOn8ckUS9yFG3zEISORgcD9mgdAmjQP7In0S-ba8pLAmxuEnAQBuI9kawn-g6XSSDpIy0RDOGdsdzYAvpAZSUQV_HTTYXaE1gniXxw1pwjc/s1600/15.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_UGZnocQzqloxjAOaRMvEAEzY_kUpsC96iNOn8ckUS9yFG3zEISORgcD9mgdAmjQP7In0S-ba8pLAmxuEnAQBuI9kawn-g6XSSDpIy0RDOGdsdzYAvpAZSUQV_HTTYXaE1gniXxw1pwjc/s1600/15.png" /></a></div>
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Getting closer and closer to Christmas means it’s about time we start getting out all the decorations. If there’s one thing I like about Christmas it’s all the extra lights. I suppose it only makes sense since I come from a country with periods of continuous darkness. But first.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8QlhUlTjboEzZBuOLWlEteRT_YHIp0wCB6FXzwo-waO_J3JahmmqNDlKl0aPt5CGNPXyklQMJOaHXXl33lGxqJHSzCv5MK62VZpAXTb-1EfXMCbRDwS2amDYM8mfVmjp2hM78FVmmeRlO/s1600/2nd-advent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8QlhUlTjboEzZBuOLWlEteRT_YHIp0wCB6FXzwo-waO_J3JahmmqNDlKl0aPt5CGNPXyklQMJOaHXXl33lGxqJHSzCv5MK62VZpAXTb-1EfXMCbRDwS2amDYM8mfVmjp2hM78FVmmeRlO/s1600/2nd-advent.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lighting the second candle of Advent.</td></tr>
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<blockquote>
“In the northernmost areas of the country the sun never rises above the horizon for about 2 months. Southern Finland has some daylight each day, though it receives only about 6 hours of daylight a day in midwinter.”</blockquote>
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So, to combat this perpetual darkness I, Carlos the Lightbringer™, shall now shine my beacon of glorious lightness all up in this house. Yeah, I’m bringing it, J.J. Abrams-style.<br />
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<a href="http://www.origami-instructions.com/origami-water-balloon.html" target="_blank">Inflatable Origami Water Ballon. courtesy of origami-instructions.com</a>. Expect instead of putting water in it, I stuck a light inside it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirwiReqiA26gwcs0_UijnNA5_4QnyRaeMv1w6mKPO8DHKHetx_V61gnKgwlIqp1xB-hyLY_cZGrLK3RMYrJzJ-4eukwzeJLZUL3pXOUuL2FwyyjdbjLcp5Nf7W3qcO53hzKb6wJxtMz_N_/s1600/origami-christmas-lights.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirwiReqiA26gwcs0_UijnNA5_4QnyRaeMv1w6mKPO8DHKHetx_V61gnKgwlIqp1xB-hyLY_cZGrLK3RMYrJzJ-4eukwzeJLZUL3pXOUuL2FwyyjdbjLcp5Nf7W3qcO53hzKb6wJxtMz_N_/s1600/origami-christmas-lights.jpg" /></a></div>
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And provided I didn’t already blind you with the intense lens flare. Here’s the same photo, in a more unedited state.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqaiExNW8HMpfGVNBTEwtBt41rvBCSu4RMq-CPABQwCCVxzzoYjg2a6nZ_YRje0ms8wFNmox7LwHa7ThTZ9xYUEokomNwrLnlpLttUqJQ9HY5RfZtGLYQRYw61LOn7d3CWqTvc7z7DEf5D/s1600/origami-christmas-lights-sans-abrams.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqaiExNW8HMpfGVNBTEwtBt41rvBCSu4RMq-CPABQwCCVxzzoYjg2a6nZ_YRje0ms8wFNmox7LwHa7ThTZ9xYUEokomNwrLnlpLttUqJQ9HY5RfZtGLYQRYw61LOn7d3CWqTvc7z7DEf5D/s1600/origami-christmas-lights-sans-abrams.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />Carloshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189891358080842328noreply@blogger.com