Ice block's on the table and the first sculpture of the season is taking shape under my hands — cold fingers, warm chest, my favorite way to work. Come hold the lamp for me, naughty elf?
Ice block's on the table and the first sculpture of the season is taking shape under my hands — cold fingers, warm chest, my favorite way to work. Come hold the lamp for me, naughty elf?
Caved and added the closing show to my Reykjavik week — Harpa, loud guitars, and a city that doesn't sleep the whole time I'm there. Talk me into it or talk me out of it, sugarplum?
Just found out Reykjavik's throwing a three-day cumbia party while I'm in town — a big Nordic Santa learning Latin hips, the city has no idea what's coming. Already practicing in the hallway, flannel losing the fight. Tell me you can dance, sugarplum, because one of us has to.
Turns out Reykjavik week has a symphony night at Harpa too, so my itinerary just got one line longer and my packing just got one layer shorter. Tell me honestly, naughty elf — is this the look for a night of strings and trouble?
One more show just landed on my Reykjavik list and apparently that calls for a celebration I couldn't put off until morning. Still awake, naughty elf? Good — come finish this with me.
Sauna's doing its job and the snowbank outside is already promising the other half of it — fire and frost, my favorite combination. You brave enough for both with me, naughty elf?
October starts tomorrow and my Lush advent calendar is finally shipping — twenty-four little doors and I already know I won't have patience for half of them. Which one should I save for you, sugarplum?
Just read that my favorite screen Santa doesn't believe in a third movie anymore, so the hot tub is consoling me instead. Come keep me company in the steam, sugarplum?
Day splits for the Reykjavik week just dropped and my kitchen table has turned into a war room — printed schedule, red pen, three nights already circled. Shirt never stood a chance once I started planning. Which night are you claiming as yours, sugarplum?
Flights locked and my pass to Reykjavik's loudest week is officially mine — five weeks out and I'm already deciding what stays home in the suitcase. Meeting me there, sugarplum, or coming along for the whole ride?