Season's ham is getting the full spice treatment under these hands and the cabin already smells like salt, smoke, and trouble. Apron's the only thing keeping me decent. You here for the chef or the main course, sugarplum?
Season's ham is getting the full spice treatment under these hands and the cabin already smells like salt, smoke, and trouble. Apron's the only thing keeping me decent. You here for the chef or the main course, sugarplum?
The Airwaves lineup is out and Daði Freyr's playing Harpa with the full symphony right in the middle of my week — my card is going to hate me by November. Robe's already given up staying closed over all this excitement. You claiming that night with me, naughty elf?
The advent calendar landed on my doorstep an hour ago and my willpower is already on the naughty list — twenty-four little doors and I've figured out which one rattles the best. Do I open door one tonight, sugarplum, or should somebody make me wait?
New prototype's been chilling out on the porch rail and it's finally cold enough for a proper test. Lamp's low, bench is cluttered, and the only thing left on tonight's list is finding out how long I can hold out. You timing me, sugarplum, or joining in?
First night run of the season and the powder was cold enough to make a man feel every inch of alive. Jacket's been open since I clicked out of the bindings and I've got no plans to close it. Tell me you'd warm me up, 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.