#gitte

[edgar-moser-blog]

gitte - die deutschen singles 1963 - 1967

[higherentity]

[roboraindrop]

Just a lil sketch of my favorite ladies (':

[selin-n]

Git_______/// !!!!!! 💙🦋

Günahıma girmeden_____/// 🌹🥀🥀

Katilim olmadan git_________/// 💙🦋

[leflambeur]

Andreas Bach and Gitte Guldhammer

[christopherleefan]

Christopher Lee and his wife Gitte, March 1962

[389]

Gitte Maria Moller

[enhancedchicks]

Gitte Von G

[hannahssimblr]

With cleaned plates and full bellies, we sit, weakly protesting as Gitte carries out the dessert, bowls of rice pudding that looks good enough to risk its consequences.

Felix has migrated onto my lap following a tour of the table, curious, and insistent on being closer to the action. From Pernille to Gitte, a brief, tearful sojourn with Astrid, to Mia, and now me. “Oh look, he wants to say hello,” they cooed as he extended his chubby arms outward, fingers clutching in my direction. They took a picture of us, then. The boys.

He holds the collar of my t-shirt as I struggle to eat with one hand. “Pernille, can he have some of this?”

“Yes, a little, because it is Christmas,” she says. I borrow his plastic spoon and take a little from the top, carefully feeding it to him, then laughing at his screwed up expression, shock and confusion at the cherry sauce.

Astrid makes a comment about the drool on his spoon while I dig in afterwards with my own utensils, but I don’t mind. On the point of saying I have had much worse things in my mouth, I decide against it in case someone asks for an exhaustive list. 

During dessert, I am, for a moment, aware of myself. Me, here, with a table of women. One might joke that I’m in my element, but I feel it. There is affection here, respect, joy. I cheer with the others, and pretend to understand what is happening when Gitte finds a whole almond in her dessert. Another tradition no one has explained to me. Clapping along as a little gift is produced for her to open. A candle. An almond worthy of a candle. Okay. I will ask later.

There's a feeling in me. What is it? Guilt. Yes. I am struck with guilt, imagining the misery of Christmas in Dublin. Ivy, being as quiet as a mouse at our grandmother's table, trying to avoid attention during mad rants about politicians, our grandmother managing, incredibly, to become even more dour and unpleasant with each passing year.

I am grateful it is different this year. That Christmas can be a holiday, for once, that does not leave me anxious for a week on either side of it.

Later, as we gather around the Christmas tree, Mia and Pernille light candles upright upon the branches, joking morbidly about the whole thing bursting into flames. 

“It has never happened, don’t worry,” Pernille assures me, quickly righting a tipping candle before it catches the tinsel. 

We exchange gifts, one by one, delighted, laughing, and some for Felix too, just for the sake of it, though he doesn’t understand what is happening. A hat pulled onto his head. Bath books leafed through. Teddy bears given voices with which to speak to him while he stares, stricken, eventually bursting into tears with overwhelm.

“A scarf,” Gitte says, when I pull my gift free of its wrapping. “I knitted it for you.”

I am unexpectedly touched. Moments spent, then, just holding it in my hands and looking at it, thinking of this woman I have never met before, knitting this for me, stitch by stitch. Of me being worth the time to do it. “Oh, really? Gitte, I love it. Thank you so much.”

“You don’t have to wear it if you don’t like it. It won’t offend me.”

“I’d probably frame it and hang it on my wall, actually. That’s how nice I think it is,” I say, and they all laugh, though I’m serious. 

The Larsen’s gifts are a collection of small, thoughtful things. Astrid has made little mugs and bowls in her ceramics studio. From Mia, books. Pernille, organic hand creams, cosmetics she knows are good for sensitive skin. I know my gifts from my parents will await me in the mailbox in Berlin. The new iPhone, maybe a laptop. A wallet with embossed with the word BOSS, or something, so gaudy I’ll leave it in the drawer of my desk, joining that Tom Ford cologne that smells the same as window cleaner, and the clippers they already got for my birthday last year, with one new attachment this time.

The flashiness of my gift for Astrid dawns slowly upon me as I watch the Larsens bond lovingly. I will have to stand up, get it, present it to her after everyone has exchanged their thoughtful tokens. All “This made me think of you. I knew this would suit your colouring. Do you remember you mentioned this before? I noticed you ran out of this…” She likes it though, the fashionable gifts. She knows she’s worth it. Doesn’t she? I was so sure the gift was right until now. I go to the tree and take the little bag from underneath. 

“Here,” I say. “I just saw them and…” I trail off lamely. They were in the November edition of Vogue I scoured once while she showered, searching for whatever was on trend these days. Something girls wanted. Something now blatantly inappropriate and generic.

From the bag, she pulls a pale pink box the size of her palm. 

“An engagement ring,” Mia says in a flat voice, lounging beside her on the sofa. 

Heat rises from my collar. “It’s obviously… it’s not that.”

“Oh, good. Lucky for you.”

Astrid ignores her and undoes the thin ribbon, lifting the lid to reveal the earrings. 

I rush to explain. Self conscious now, and overcome by the need to tack on some element of personal significance. “Apparently they’re in,” I manage. “The… uh. I think they’re freshwater pearls or something?” Why did I phrase it like a question? Stupid. And why am I flustered, as though I haven’t bought her similar gifts in the past, which she seemed delighted with? I’m thrown off kilter at the thoughtfulness of the other gifts. A scenario I honestly had not visualised, and I’m struck by a terrifying new thought, that all the times Astrid said she liked my gifts, she was lying to me. 

“I love them, they’re beautiful,” she says, her face lighting up. A smile. Good. She wouldn’t smile unless she really meant it. She tucks pieces of hair behind her ears and puts them in, showing them off. “Yes, pretty,” her family says. “Very classy.”

Beneath her on the floor, I lift my hand to her leg. An emasculating type of gesture, feeling like a medieval peasant boy. “You like them, really?”

“Yes, I do. I swear.”

Somebody says something to her, and she looks away, distracted, then, reaching for another gift. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[edgar-moser-blog]

gitte - weisse rosen

1969

[happyheidi]

For my Norwegian followers I wanna show you something my mother made; GivingTuesday! Now that it’s been Black Friday, let’s do something for others with Giving Tuesday! She works for an organization called ‘Indias Barn’ (Indias children) that helps children in India. It’s like SOS Barnebyer or PLAN just a smaller organization. Anyway, she came up with this idea and wanted me to share it. She was so excited and so am I!

I dag er det GivingTuesday, Givergledens dag!

GivingTuesday startet som en reaksjon mot alle dager i november som handler om forbruk – og feires derfor etter Black Friday. I dag er GivingTuesday en folkebevegelse som setter giverglede og engasjement for andre i fokus.

Trykk her og gi en gave og bli med på å gjøre verden til et bedre sted 💜🙏

Med din gave kan de gi helsehjelp til barn og voksne som ikke har råd til å gå til lege/spesialist og betale dyre medisiner. Da kan de som sliter med helsen få den hjelpen de sårt trenger slik at familien slipper å sette seg i stor gjeld. 🙏💜

SE HER OM VIPPSBETALING: Trykk på bildet og velg beløp (kan også skrive inn akkurat det beløpet du vil) og fyll ut mobilnummer. Trykk nederst på Velg Giving Tuesday + Neste. Da må du gå ut av bestillingen og inn i din Vipps og betale gaven innen 10 minutter.

and if you can’t donate, please share! That helps a lot! 💜

Om du hjelper skal jeg lage et moodboard til deg og/eller gi en shoutout/noe annet du vil ♡

[warmheartedbimbo]

❤️💙🤍

[sitting-on-me-bum]

Arctic Fox

By Gitte Van der Meersch

[chloe251296]

[maebabezorz]