looks like you're not happy, 'less I open a vein

I need to start making friends without addictions.

Today I visited Scrap Happy Chelsey (don't click if you don't want to get really hungry)at her wonderful red home in Nacka. I will probably refer to her as ScrapCrazyChelsey – SCC – from now on. She. Is. Scrap. Crazy.

Five years ago – after relentlessly teasing her friends about their hobby – SCC made her first scrapbook, preserving memories and moments from her wedding. She was hooked. She kept scrapbooking, started her own business selling supplies online, ran monthly crops, and attended weekend retreats where they powernapped in lieu of sleeping.

In Sweden, she has a room dedicated to the hobby. It hosts shelves and cabinets of supplies – papers, tools, punches, kits, etc. Now I've caught the scrapbooking fire, and am mentally planning an ambitious Facebook photo transference project.

Smashing Story: Apparently the U.S. is spying on Sweden. Well, that isn't true – a disgruntled Norwegian worker accused the U.S. Embassy of spying (really?) in Norway, and Scandinavia generally runs on a "buy one, get all free" policy.

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Life Advice: When you turn 20, your mother will start thinking about grandchildren.

My mother didn't strike the genetic lottery with me. She, the diplomat's wife with a fondness for afternoon tea, has always had difficulty with me. As a child, I would wiggle and whine when she brushed my hair, and I had a a complete disregard for clothing (only noticing it when it hindered running/playing in dirt or with tadpoles).

"Dress to impress. You're on the market."
"I'm not a slab of meat for sale."

These are the types of conversations we have. Scintillating, I know.

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Have you heard about the leprechauns?
Favorite part: 10 seconds in; the expression on the male anchor's face.