Smokin' Pete Sandstrum

Last night I had a dream that my dad was in Edinburgh and needed my help navigating the public transportation system. So he rode the bus to work with me, and then I showed him which bus to take to the airport. (This is, after all, KGB Pete with billions of frequent flyer miles, and countless secret missions to complete.)

So I went into work and then later walked outside to make sure my dad had gotten to the bus stop ok. There he was, at the bus stop, my dad, AND HE WAS SMOKING! MY DAD, PETE SANDSTRUM, SMOKING A CIGARETTE. Can you even??

So I stayed back and just watched him. And he was smoking like an expert, so I decided that all these years he's been a secret smoker. Later in the dream, I was sniffing his briefcase and work papers for traces of cigarette smoke.

What would Freud say?

The Queen's English

This afternoon I overheard a woman ask the salesclerk at an electronics store if a product was "carry-able". No, ma'am, but it's portable.

Which reminds me of a good laugh my friend Ken Lund and I had a few years ago when he told someone we weren't making the most of the "up-space" above our convention booth. Yes Kenny, sometimes they call it the height.

And my friend Craig once spoke of the importance of "fore-planning". (The planning, apparently, that takes place before any planning can happen.)

I think the Queen would approve.

A Thanksgiving Greeting From My Family

Yes, they're thinking of me. This is the message my family sent me on Thanksgiving:

Gary says to just quit your whining and enjoy your haggis. Bagpipe music just doesn't go with football and turkey anyway.There really wasn't room for an 11th person at the table, and the only other setting was a tupperware plate from the 1960's with a whinnie-the-pooh sippie cup. The surplus white meat went to the most worthy recipient, our dog Pepper.

Peter is still raving about the stuffing and the gravy. Aila especially enjoyed Tina's yams with that tasty marshmallow topping.But you probably didn't care about any of that anyway.

Surely tropical Scotland is a much preferable place to spend the holidays, not like the sunny 70's we're enjoying here in California with a nice Napa valley merlot in hand. Oh, well, at least you get the benefit of picking up Shrek's accent.There's plenty of packing and moving waiting for you when you return.

I grabbed a few morsels of turkey for you from Pepper's bowl before he scarfed the rest down, so you'll have a memento of our holiday.

Who Needs the G?

The G on my keyboard is bein uncooperative. It takes three tries to et it to be a g. It has made it difficult to write about raduation, or the St iles Cathedral in Edinburh, and about reat White Sharks, and Scott Peterson's Attorney Mark eraos. And it's hard to properly wish everyone back home a Happy Thanksivin.

ood thin I'll be home soon and my dad can fix the . He's ood with computer hardware. I take that back: He's reat with computer hardware. He's fixed everythin from printin presses, and dishwashers, to CT Scanners, MRIs, and mammoraphy units. The should be no problem.

And when it's fixed, I'll tell him:

"Thank you, you're reat! You're the reatest dad a irl could wish for."

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving to all y'all.

The Mormon Pope

I know the Mormons don't have a Pope. But if they did, and the Mormon Pope had a web site, it would be www.mormoncult.blogspot.com.

What Baby Cat?

The apartment building across the street looked promising, when we first moved in. With about 15 windows within direct view of our sitting room, the building, we thought, would provide my flatmate Paul and I with lotsa 'people-watching' opportunities. We were prepared to have the neighbors figured out within, at most, a couple weeks.

At his last flat, on Alva Street, Paul and his flatmates had a direct view into six flats. Within a year of living there they had 'figured out' four of the six. There was Grooming Man who was a caretaker of a chess club (information gleaned from the Internet, legally) who groomed himself constantly. Next door to him lived four guys, one of whom moved away to Australia. Above them lived a gay poet with a taste for Victorian furniture. To the right of him was Ugly Almost Naked Man who did not do much besides sit on his sofa, in underwear. Above UANM was Single Lady Whose Parents Came to Visit Quite Often. Next to her was a couple who kept respectable hours, as far as Paul could tell.

But here on Perth Street, no such luck. We have Single Smoker Lady, and downstairs there's Boring Nordic Man, and a family, and The Guy With the Blue Light. Tonight I found out that The Guy With a Blue Light has a baby cat, who I could have been watching all this time. Meow.

Book List Continued

Recently read books:

The Mambo Kings Play Songs of Love, by Oscar Hijuelos (Winner of the 1989 Pulitzer Prize)

Man and Boy, by Tony Parsons (Winner of the Book of the Year 1999, British Book Awards)

A Clockwork Orange, by Anthony Burgess

Hire A Cousin

Visit my cousin Marty's web site.
Read his cowboy poetry.
Listen to his music.
The End.

Graduation is Tomorrow

Graduation is tomorrow.
I'm not nervous though.
I've already written my acceptance speech.
Boy will they be surprised when I grab the microphone.

Since ya'll won't be there, I'll give you a preview:
"Ladies and gentlemen, fellow graduates, esteemed guests, family members and friends.
Welcome to Edinburgh's Festival Theatre, and to my graduation.
I remember what my dad said to me when I told him that I had been accepted to Napier University's Masters in Publishing Programme: 'What do you know about this school? Are you sure it's not some diploma mill?'
On that note, I'd like to conclude.
Thank you for your attention."

It's only a preview.

You Say Tomato

Here I was thinkin' that Donald Rumsfeld had fled. But it was John Ashcroft. Six of one, half dozen of the other.

And now Colin Powell. See, I told you my U.S. Army Officer source was reliable. You read that scoop here, first. Don't forget it. So in the future, turn to this page for breaking news.

Giving Thanks Without Me

In an extremely controversial move my family has decided to celebrate Thanksgiving without me. As my friend Sara would ask, "Can you even??"

No Sara, I can't.

My brother-in-law Hector is apparently the only one thoughtful enough to forego Thanksgiving celebrations due to my absence. Very diplomatically Hector has told the rest of the family that he cannot attend because he is working. I always knew he was my only ally.

Even my darling niece, Aila, is part of the betrayal. Shame on her.

My dear parents, Pete and Irma, my sister, and my niece Aila are gathering with the "Finnish" side of the family, north of Sacramento, in Loomis, at my aunt and uncle's house. I thought they loved me. I can't bear the thought of them having fun without me.

They should forego Thanksgiving celebrations because: it's inconvenient to have 10 at the table - place settings are always sold in sets of 11, no one will be there to replace all the photos of Maria with pictures of ME, no one else will eat the tender white meat, and because there won't be anyone to sleep on the floor - and everyone knows it's not REALLY Thanksgiving unless the youngest, single relative sleeps in a sleeping bag on the living room floor.

In conclusion, I believe the "Finnish" side of the family is incapable of celebrating Thanksgiving without "the Informer" (a name I earned at age 11).

I welcome rebuttals. And white meat.

Remembrance Sunday

Today is Remembrance Sunday. So this morning, Paul and Sarah and Bryan and I watched on T.V. the Remembrance Services, held in London. The Queen and her posse were there. We accidentally talked through the minutes' silence at 11:11 a.m. Oops. I must confess, before this year I didn't think much of the Royals. But my flatmate Paul is an admirer of the Queen and her diplomacy skills, so I'm converted. And today when she placed a wreath at the Cenotaph (the UK's national memorial) she backed down the steps, in high heels. Just like Ginger Rogers, who, as Faith Whittlesey said, did everything Prince Phillip did, but backwards and in high heels. So the Queen has my vote.

And this evening Madonna was inducted into the UK Music Hall of Fame. For some reason she only has an English accent when she's in the States. Here, in her homeland, she sounds quite American. But she deserved the award. Madonna wrote the soundtrack to my elementary school/junior high years.

And then today my friend Norette said the funniest thing I've heard in a long time:

"He's an atheist, thank the Lord."

Did you know?

1. Apparently Colin Powell doesn't care for (my mom told me never to say "hates" and to use "doesn't care for" instead) George W. Bush. Maybe this is old news, but I had no idea. My inside source is an officer in the U.S. Army. And Army officers know everything about Colin Powell and his friends.

2. Glasgow, a city in the west of Scotland, when pronounced correctly, rhymes with "BINGO"

3. Scottish people make fun of Americans who mispronounce "Glasgow"

4. There is a market for sheep showers. See: http://www.andertongroup.com/Monsoon/monsoon2.htm

5. "This is Peter Knowlson" sounds like "this is Peter Thompson", especially when he has an English accent

6. If you work at Black and White Publishing you are entitled to a free copy of every title. Guess who's giving books as Christmas persents???

7. "Sewer Rat" is actually a corruption of the German term "Sauer Rotte" a Bavarian dish made with cabbage.

8. "For all in tents and porpoises" is a kinda funny way of saying "for all intents and purposes"

To Do:

Send the Palestinians an sympathy card
Send Donald Rumsfeld a Thank you note (Has Hallmark broken into the "Thank you for not serving a second term" market??)
Try to remember what my darling niece looks like because I don't have any recent photos of her (Hi Maria, if you're reading this. or this.)
Calm the North Wind (it makes Scotland cold)

In no particular order.

Visit Finland

Since it's Wednesday, and you're probably at work, you deserve a break. Take a quick virtual tour of Finland. It will make you feel happy, and inspired, and relaxed, and refreshed. Click here to visit Finland.

Things To Do List

You know those lists (or books) that list all the things you should do before your life is over? Well, I've started such a list for me. I've bolded the things I've already done.

• Eat mussels in Brussels.
• Dye Belgian lace by melting Belgian truffels on it.
• Leave a stuffed animal in a hotel in one country and have it sent back to you in another.
• Adopt a homeless pure bred dog.
• Be the sister of someone who's taken a hot air balloon ride.
• Celebrate a birthday in Brussels.
• Dress as a pirate and walk around town asking people if they've seen the new pirate movie, "It's Rated ARRRRRRRRGGHHHHH,"
• Learn how to make a good pie crust.
• Write one good sentence.
• Fly from Chicago to Los Angeles on a clear, sunny day. Sitting at the window seat.
• Make a documentary about crazy, fun, sentimental extended family.
• Visit all seven continents, dressed as a pirate.
• Learn to speak with a Scottish accent.
• Be called "unflappable".
• Fall at a graduation ceremony. (May be bold next week.)

to be continued

Witch Doctors and Old Wives' Tales

Never doubt "the Irma." That's what I started calling my mom yesterday. "The Irma" is an international phenomenon. More on that later.

On Saturday my niece, Aila, had a temperature of 102. My sister wanted to take her to the emergency room. I think her husband, Hector, persuaded her to call "the Irma" for some medical advice. So she did.

The Irma said, "Give Aila some baby Tylenol and then give her a bath. It will lower her body temperature."

What??!!? Maria is used to getting cockamaimie medical advice from well-meaning friends, neighbors, and in-laws. Had she misdialed? She thought she had called the Irma, Registered Nurse, mid-wife, and font of all knowledge medical. The best the Irma could come up with is "give the baby a bath"?

"Ok, thanks," Maria told the Irma.

For the first time, she doubted our mom's medical advice.

So she called the pediatrician.

Maria: "Aila has a fever of 102. Should I take her to the emergency room?"

Pediatrician: "No. Just give her a bath."

It will lower her body temperature.

The Canadians Will Save US

Bless the Candians. They will save the American liberal.
(Thank you to my friend DPD in Portland, Oregon for alerting US to this site.)

Quotes and such

When did Jesus have time to learn carpentry?

And today my flatmate Paul said, "I suppose Germany is the Texas of Europe."

Yes Paul, I suppose it is.

"Remember, we dumped all that tea into Pearl Harbor," my friend Hannah explaining to Paul the history behind Americans' love of coffee. (Hannah is writing a book. It's called: Why the Japanese Bombed Boston. It will be available in December 2005.)

That Clown

Last night I was watchin' the election results. When I went to bed Bush had 39 electoral votes, and Kerry 3. I called my mom.

"I can't believe you voted for that clown," I told her.

She got mad at me.

"At my age you have to have common sense. I'm not voting for him, I'm voting for the Republican party," Irma said.

So I repeated my line:

"I can't believe you voted for that clown."

My mom got madder. She raised her voice.

"I am being practical and realistic."

So there you have it, my mom voted for that clown, and his party.

Thank heavens I'm Finnish.

Finland in the News

It's not good news.

Election Mania

U.S. Presidential Election Mania has hit Edinburgh. My flatmate Paul says if he could vote in the election tomorrow he would vote for John Kerry because he is altruistic. (Paul, not John Kerry.) My friend Mhairi (pronounced Mhairi) would vote for John Kerry not because she likes John Kerry but because it would be a vote against Dubya. My flatmate Jason would vote for John Kerry because "you can't trust a man whose eyes are too close together." (Yes, Ralph Nader's eyes are much too close together.) And my friend Simon is going to make a million when he auctions off the chad from my ballot on E-bay. And he'd vote for Kerry too. So Kerry wins Scotland.

Tom Foolery

Tom foolery has kept me from posting the latest news from Edinburgh. Friday ushered in the beginning of a weekend of tom foolery with the arrival from Los Angeles of friends Hannah and Emily. They departed today, for London, so they had the standard 66-hour Edinburgh tour. It included: dining in French, French, and French restaurants, drinking in a couple few many establishments, a look at Edinburgh Castle from the parking lot, a spin through the *new* Scottish Parliament building, many cups of coffee, and a night-time tour of the spooky underground vaults. Oh, and a little Halloween party.

Any others interested this sort of whirlwind tour should book now.