Author: SatuBell

bubble power!


(NB: the poem is followed by rhyme-free text!)


laughter wobbles in my belly

swiftly turns me into jelly!

bubbles up and tickles my lips

then frolicks on my fingertips!

ruffles up my hair

swirls around the air

and spreads the giggles

carries the joy

and boy oh boy!

now everyone wiggles!

as the laughter trickles

down to every cranny and nook

between the covers of every book

onto rooftops, into knickers

and lo and behold:

nobody bickers!

nobody fights, nobody litters!

it’s no longer cold

the air’s warm with smiles

only shrieks of laughter for miles and miles!


I few years ago I was the victim of a laughter assault! At an outdoor family event, a man very purposefully strode towards me with a wide grin on his face, his right arm outstretched. He took my hand and started to shake it. And he laughed.

At first I was embarrased, his laughter seemed fake and he seemed kind of nuts, but I quickly realized that he was not going to let go of my hand until I started to laugh too. And of course I did, it was impossible not to. He then wished me a nice a day and walked towards his next victim..

I found out that he was there with a bunch of other people from a laughter yoga group. They were all wearing brightly-colored ha ha ha! tee shirts.  The idea of laughter yoga is that fake laughter inevitably turns into the real thing and combined with eye-contact and breathing exercises it is very beneficial for people’s well-being. Amen to that!

how to talk to a tree..


“Help me please! My hair is acting out!”

“What on earth are you shouting about?”

“I woke up today and my hair was yellow!”

“But yellow is always so nice and mellow!”

“Not when people walk by and whistle

the yellow submarine! That makes me bristle!”

“But at least your hair isn’t short and stiff!”

“Right now I really wish that it was! Then at least

it wouldn’t fall out and make me look like a beast!”

“On the other hand.. you have a whiff

of a most enchanting scent!

And your branches are toned, your trunk is tight

so even bark-naked you look just right!”


she blushed all red

it had all been said

 so she quietly led

her sweet-talking beau

straight into her bed!


I’ve been wondering..

.. if Leonardo DiCaprio ever wishes he had more to hold on to? Could all the models simply be a smokescreen to hide the fact that he’s actually into voluptious women? (I mean, dating a model is one thing – but going on holiday with dozens of models reeks of a massive cover-up!) Perhaps for all these years he’s had a secret, fat girlfriend!


one of those moments which would have gone viral

I reached for the toilet paper. And suddenly froze. Right there on top of the roll was a spider! I used to be terrified of spiders, but I’ve managed to conquer much of my fear so I went right ahead and started to pull the paper out. And the spider started to move backwards in order to stay on top of the roll. Which means that I had just turned a roll of toilet paper into a spider treadmill!

It was so funny that I just kept on pulling the paper, but after about 10 seconds the spider decided to step out. Can’t blame it, running on a treadmill is so boring! Except, of course, when the treadmill is a roll of TP and the running is done by a spider!

I wonder how many million views that video would’ve gotten.

Then again, the most likely outcome of trying to shoot the video would’ve been my phone falling into the toilet.. 😅

are you a showstopper or a sheet?

A week ago Abby Has Issues posted a blog post titled How to Change Your Sheets in Under an Hour.

Now, there are people who simply cannot comprehend what on earth she’s talking about. Then there are people like me. Who know exactly what she’s talking about.

Today I baked a rhubarb pie. And, as a person who knows exactly what Abby means, I opted for a sheet rhubarb pie. Simple, practical and tastes just as good as the pies with intricate decorations on top – tiny sculptures of the gods of ancient Greece carved out of rhubarb, perhaps.

Sheet pies are also known as slab pies. Except among people who always carve ancient gods out of rhubarb (at 2 a.m..) – even if it makes them tired, cranky martyrs! They call them slob pies. 😉



I LOVE MY HAIR! (That’s right! I actually went ahead and said that! Meant it, too!)


That’s right, I’m not kidding: I love my hair! More specifically, I love my hair’s all-natural color. I love the way it constantly, subtly changes; I love its sun-kissed highlights; I love its darker, contemplative winter moods. I also really love it like this: (because that is pure FUN!)


Allegedly the first grey hairs have made an appearance. I say ‘allegedly’ because I heard it from my hairdresser, but I couldn’t be bothered to take a closer look. Grey simply joins the cast of countless other hues on my head and plays its part in making my hair unique, impossible to replicate no matter how many top stylists were hired for the task.

Anyway, why mess with perfection? 😉

(Make no mistake here: I’m a tangled mess of insecurities and complexes. I simply choose to be merciful to myself, which means that I avoid looking into brightly lit mirrors. Quality of life largely depends on a soft-focus lens. (And every now and then a kaleidoscope!)