Bedtime for DJs

F.D.: You'll never believe what the DJ upstairs said.

A-L: Try me.

F.D.: He said that he's trying really hard to be considerate, and turn down the music when it's late, but he's struggling with knowing what is "too late".

A-L: Are you saying that he doesn't understand the concept of "bed time"?

F.D.: He doesn't understand what time people who aren't DJs go to bed, and he needs help knowing when that is.

A-L: I have an idea.

F.D.: Uh oh.

A-L: No, it's a good idea. It's not one of my silly "I'll say this for a laugh" ideas.

F.D.: Ok.

A-L: Each night, when it's bed time, you could go upstairs and read him a bed time story. That way, there'll be no confusion about when bed time is. When the story is over, he has to turn the stereo off.

Michael: Or put on headphones.

When a DJ Lives Upstairs

Flatmate David: Have you heard the super loud music from the upstairs neighbors?

A-L: No. It might be my snoring that you're hearing.

F.D.: No, it's definitely melodic. But waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too loud, and waaaaaay too late.

A-L: Oh, actually I have. I forgot that I wrote a poem to the upstairs neighbor.

F.D.: Wow, and right on cue, he's turned it up again.

A-L: What song is that? Sounds like the Jackson Five.

F.D.: Not sure. I could Shazam it.

A-L: That's when you know the music upstairs is too loud.

F.D.: They just don't understand the concept of THIN WALLS + LOUD MUSIC + DIFFERENT WORK SCHEDULES = UNHAPPY DOWNSTAIRS NEIGHBORS.

A-L: I think passive aggressive is the way to go here.

F.D.: Good idea. When I leave the house at 6 am, I'll leave really bad music on loop. Can I borrow your Phil Collins CD?

A-L: Which one? I mean, I don't own any Phil Collins. Honestly. I was thinking George Michael. But maybe that's so bad it's good.

Conversation Stopper

At the San Francisco Airport, after a few minutes of friendly conversation...

Friendly man: So, what do you do?

A-L: I'm an admin assistant.

(insert long pause)

Friendly man: Do you want a drink?

Location, Location, Location

A-L: I must be drunk. I'm filling in some information about a company, which is in Texas, and I put down the wrong country. Texas isn't in Canada!

SR: Texas is in Texas.

A Definite Red Flag

Caroline: I once broke up with a boyfriend because he had a Mariah Carey CD.

A-L: Really?? Which one?

Caroline: I think it was Daydream.

A-L: I meant which boyfriend.

Interview Saga - Part 1

This really happened. To someone I know. Names have been changed to protect those who need protecting.

Sally: I'm thrilled to be here, Nancy. Thanks for giving me an interview.

Nancy: No problem. I just want to start out by telling you that I'm leaving the company very soon. I'm going to get my MBA. I just thought it was fair to say that up front.

Sally: Great, then maybe I'll get your job instead of the one I'm interviewing for. I mean, what a shame. I'm sure I could learn so much from you.

Nancy: I have NO IDEA how they're going to find someone to replace me. They're never going to find what they're looking for.

Sally: Yes, you look like that rare individual who is indispensable.

Nancy: So, the salary's not spectacular for this low-level customer service position. How do you feel about that?

Sally: I've considered dog walking, nit picking and converting so I could become the mother to someone else's Jewish baby. I'm not particularly money motivated in this down spiraling economy. What's REALLY important to me is that I like the product I'm selling and that I work with nice people. And that I'm employed.

Nancy: Oh, I'm not nice.

Sally: Yes, I didn't not notice that. I mean, tee hee.

Nancy: I'm serious. I'm not nice. I hate training people. I'm really impatient.

Sally: Are you drunk? Did you just say that to me? I mean, I can understand that sentiment. I've been a manager, and training people can be challenging.

Nancy: Yeah, I'll show someone how to do something once, and if they don't get it, they're on their own and I get really aggravated.

Sally: Nit picking wouldn't be so bad. I could make my own hours.

Nancy: One thing that makes this mindless job very complicated is that we use many different systems, so you have to be very precise.

Sally: Well, I'm very good about admitting if I've made a mistake, and then going back and fixing it.

Nancy: That's a good trait, but, uh, we don't make mistakes. I'm serious. We don't make mistakes. We can't make mistakes.

Sally: You are the best thing that's ever happened to my blog. Are you kidding me? Did you REALLY just say that to me during an interview?

Nancy: Ok, come meet my boss, Bob.

Sally: Let's hope he's also a goldmine of interviewing no-no's.

-----

Bob: Scaaawwt-land, huh? How long did you live in Edin-bor-ough?

Sally: I'm not sure where Edin-bor-ough is, sir, but I lived in Edinburgh for five years.

Bob: I'm Scawwww-tish.

Sally: I don't believe you.

Bob: So, tell me about the retail job you had in Beverly Hills. I bet you had some demanding customers there.

Sally: That was seven jobs ago. Do you really want to focus on that one?

Bob: I'm just going to talk over you, and anything you say is wrong. My interviewing style is a mix of aggressive, condescending and confrontational. So explain how you would have dealt with an unhappy customer when you were working retail.

Sally: Well, I would have apologized, and then spoken with my manager...

Bob (interrupting): Let's say your manager's unavailable.

Sally: Well, I would have spoken to my manager's manager.

Bob: That person's not available either.

Sally: I didn't work alone at this high-department store. I don't think, sir.

Bob: Moving right along, prove to me that you're organized.

Sally: Uh, my resume is easy to read? I got here on time?

(At this point in the interview, Sally had given up, and already strongly disliked both Bob and Nancy. And never wanted to work near/with/for/against them.)

Sally: What, exactly, are you looking for in a low-level underpaid customer service rep reporting to self-important, inexperienced and unprofessional managers? I mean, what are you looking for in an employee?

Bob: I'm looking for someone who can "keep their head, when all about are losing theirs".

Sally: I like that poem.

Bob: Yes, it's Robert Burns.

Sally: Try again. It's Rudyard Kipling.

Bob: It's one of the two.

Yeah, the one I said.

And here concludes Part 1. Let's recap: Sally corrected her potential boss's boss in an interview because she can't bear to let it pass that he's attributed a Rudyard Kipling poem to Robert Burns. Will Sally ever get a job?? To be continued.

The Tao of Annais - Verse One

A-L: Good morning Annais. How did you sleep?

Annais (closing her eyes): Like this.

Q & A With Public Safety Pete

I received the following e-mail from Gemma, our Paris correspondent:

A-L,
Please forward this photo to Public Safety Pete for analysis.

Thanks, GL

Pete, can you rate this on the scale of 1 - 10?

The Tao of Annais (Rhymes with "The Tao of Niece")

A-L: You should drive up to visit me in San Francisco sometime. It's only a 10-hour drive from Coachella (aka The Surface of the Sun).

Sister Maria: That sounds perfect for the girls. There's nothing five- and three-year-olds like more than being confined to car seats for 10 hours.

A-L: Is it really bad?

Sister Maria: Hey, Annais, tell A-L how much you like the drive to Northern California.

Annais: What?

Sister Maria: Tell her about the drive up north, how fun it was.

Annais: The drive was ... (insert dramatic three-year-old pause) ... the plane.

A-L: Does she work for Southwest Airlines? Or is she Yoda?

Sister Maria: Both.

Police Custody

Public Safety Pete: Hi, I'm waiting for my fingerprints to dry.

A-L: Are you and Irma stenciling the hallway with your hand and foot prints?

Pete: No, I'm at the Channel Islands Police Station, I think.

A-L: What happened? Did you finally act out against the homeowners' association rules and put up a lawn ornament? I hope it's a life-size troll.

Pete: No, I'm getting fingerprinted.

A-L: And I was your first phone call? Unfortunately I'm pretty busy. Sister Maria and I are running errands. Can I call you back when you're eligible for parole?

Pete: I wish. I'm getting my paw prints taken so I can do that volunteer job you signed me up for.

A-L: The one counting birds for the Audubon Society?

Pete: That sounds more exciting. I'll be installing Life Alert systems in elderly people's homes.

A-L: Does that mean you get a free one? If so, can I have it? I'd love to get it connected to the Velo Rouge coffee shop across the street from my house so they could deliver freshly brewed coffee.

Pete: Um, pressing the Life Alert button means an ambulance, not a barista, shows up.

A-L: Oh, so it's broken. No wonder they need volunteers.

Are You New?

If you're a new reader, and I know there are tens of you, or you just need reminding, these are the characters who play recurring roles on the Ferocious Reader:

1. Public Safety Pete - My dad. Concerned with safety. Named Pete. Or Peter. Native to California.
   
2. Irma (aka "the Irma") - My mom, Irma. Married to Public Safety Pete for 39.5 years. Of Finnish origin.
   
3. Sister Maria - My sister. Her name is Maria.
4. Grandbrother Hector - Husband of Sister Maria. "Grandbrother" is Ted's (see Character 7) version of "brother-in-law".
5. Aila - Original niece. The elder of the MexiFinns. Fan of pygmy marmosets, hummingbirds and scarlet macaws.
   
6. Annais (aka "Cachetona", "Cache", "Eese") - Younger of the MexiFinns. PRONUNCIATION KEY: Rhymes with "geese". (Bonus information: Was named "Peter Marie" while gestating.)
7. Ted - Of Polish origin. Flatmate of four years in Edinburgh. Still in Scotland. Accident prone. Wife and two children in Poland, eagerly awaiting his return. New(ish) to English. Originator of the phrases "sister-in-love" and "grandbrother", among others.
   
8. Kitty - A cat. Lives in Scotland.
9. Others appear as convenient/necessary/funny.
   

I hope that's useful.

Mary and Joseph Live On

This is an open letter to the family that lives off the 101 on the Central Coast of California, between Gonzales and Soledad.

I saw your nativity scene yesterday. I know it's not lit up, but it's out. And still set up in the typical nativity configuration. I was going about 65 mph, so I couldn't tell for sure, but it looked like the cradle was empty. Did a Groundhog steal the plastic Christ Child? Or are you rotating the contents of the cradle to suit the holiday? I know where you can get a cute little leprechaun. That should tide you over until Easter, which falls on April 12th this year.

What you could do, is celebrate the phases of Jesus's life, starting with the Nativity, and culminating with the resurrection. I attended an Easter brunch a few years ago where my friends had rigged up a rising Jesus in the doorway adjoining the kitchen and living room. These are the supplies you'll need to set up an outdoor equivalent:

1. A Jesus figure. Think lawn ornament size. (Here's a link to a Jesus Statue Catalog.)

2. A rope and pulley system. (There's a helpful diagram here.)

3. Someone who can be the resurrector. (ie: the puller of the pulley.)

4. Easter brunch!

I'll be heading back up North on the 101 next week. I'll stop in and discuss the options with you.

Human Rights in South Central L.A., or The Olsen Twins

Peter the Greek: Wow, that documentary we just saw (Crips and Bloods: Made in America) was incredible. It's unconscionable that this urban warfare is going on so close to the media epicenter that is Los Angeles, and yet it's barely covered.

A-L: Too right, as the Scots would say.

P the G: How does this escape the attention of mainstream media? It's happening in their backyard.

A-L: It's not that they don't know about it, it's just that it doesn't sell magazines. We need to get the Olsen twins involved for People Magazine to cover it.

P the G: I don't think the Olsen twins are into gang warfare. That doesn't seem like their bag.

A-L: Oh, maybe you're on to something. They could date rival gang members, and then facilitate a truce. People Magazine would love that. And then Americans in dentist offices across the country would know about the conflict.

P the G: That could work, except one of the twins is missing.

A-L: Which one?

P the G: Uh, I can't remember their names.

A-L: I don't believe you.

P the G: Ok, it's Ashley. She's withdrawn a bit. Mary Kate is the one who's totally in the spotlight, and used to hang out with Paris Hilton, et al.

A-L: So, what's the next step?

P the G: In getting Ashley back into the spotlight?

A-L: No, in getting the Olsen twins to make people aware of the situation, specifically the origins of the gang rivalry in South Central, and working towards a solution.

P the G: Pass.

In Training

Cousin Tina: Hi, have you been training for the upcoming ride?

A-L: Of course.

Cousin Tina: What have you been doing?

A-L: I ate two slices of that delicious pumpkin bread you made, to practice getting my blood sugar up.

Cousin Tina: And?

A-L: And right now I'm eating a banana, which has a lot of potassium. Right?

Cousin Tina: Yes, that's right. What else have you done?

A-L: I watched Cousin Daniel do ski jumping on the Wii. That was stressful. But he did well.

Cousin Tina: Umm, how many miles have you ridden?

A-L: I drove to the San Francisco Airport and back yesterday. Does that count?

Cousin Tina: Not if you were in the Camry. Are you planning to ride your bike today?

A-L: Is this the time for me to mention that I don't own a bike?

Job Counselor

Kitty: Do you have a job yet?

A-L: No, not yet.

Kitty: How about now?

A-L: Nope. Do you?

Kitty: Paul got me hooked up with a gig doing stress tests on snowboard goggle boxes. It's boring, but it's steady work and I get free snowboarding gear.

A-L: Aren't you a skier?

Kitty: No, I'm a cat. I got a call from GW the other day. Their apartment has a mouse infestation, and he wanted me to come round and have a look. I gave him a quote over the phone, and he hung up on me.

A-L: That's surprising, I think.

Kitty: He wanted fast service, and I was going to put my best man on the job. I've trained Ted to catch mice bare-handed. He's a natural.

A-L: Please tell him I say hello. I miss that guy.

Kitty: Oh, can you tell Cousin Tina that I probably can't join her on the bike ride in April?

A-L: Ohmigosh, that would have been so fun to have you pulling my bike! I bet someone would sew you a little spandex outfit. (Hint, hint, readers who sew.)

Kitty: Which is precisely why it's perfect timing that I'll probably be in D.C. the weekend of the Wildflower.

A-L: Sorry?

Kitty: I don't want to bore you with the details, but the Obamas are begging me to come stay with them to help "the dog" transition into public life.

A-L: Have they chosen a dog?

Kitty: It's not public yet, but I've sold the dog who lives with me.

Cheap Laugh

Paul: Do you remember those snowboarding goggles I got for my 30th Birthday?

A-L: No, that was AGES ago.

Paul: It wasn't that long ago. Anyway, the other day I found the picture of Kitty in the goggle box. Poor Kitty. I shed a tear.

A-L: Why "poor Kitty"? Because you stuffed her in a goggle box, or because now she's living in the Scottish countryside and is miles away from the nearest theatre and decent Indian food?

Paul: I didn't stuff her into the goggle box. She stalked it, circled it, and then put it on, as it were. And there's really good Indian food in Culross.

A-L: Why didn't anyone tell me she looked like a boa constrictor?

Boot Camp

Cousin Tina: We're going for a 17-mile bike ride today.

A-L: Do you want me to pass that message on to someone?

Cousin Tina: Um, yourself. We're leaving at 11 a.m., and you're riding Daniel's bike.

A-L: Cool. I hope Daniel can see past me sitting on the handlebars. Or am I riding in one of those carts?

Cousin Tina: Daniel's staying at home.

A-L: Oh, I see. It's remote control. Is it a new Wii game?

Cousin Tina: Call it what you like.

Mile 2 -

A-L: I'm HUNGRY.

Cousin Tina: I'm AUSTRIA. Keep pedaling. We're almost to the 1/8 mark.

Mile 3.5 -

A-L: I have to pee.

Cousin Tina: We're almost to the spot where I won't be lying if I say we're getting a bit closer to the half-way mark.

A-L: I hate word problems. Holly, are we there yet?

Cousin Holly: I don't speak 'whining'.

A-L: Tina, Holly won't talk to me. I have to pee.

Mile 5.5 -

A-L: Is it time for our banana bread snack yet?

Cousin Tina: I can tell by looking at you that your blood sugar hasn't dropped that low. Keep pedaling. We're getting closer.

A-L: By my calculations we're getting farther away from the house. And bathrooms. Did I mention I have to pee? And can a dietitian really tell someone's blood sugar level just by looking at them?

Cousin Tina: I can. And I have the power to determine when hypochondria has set in. You're in the advanced stages.

A-L: Does that mean I get to travel home in one of those carts? Is Cousin Gary coming to pick me up? And is the only cure a chocolate and peanut butter milkshake?

Cousin Tina: I need to observe you riding the bike for a couple more miles before I can clearly diagnose the situation.

Mile 7 -

A-L: I think I'm going into shock. If I pass on here, tell my parents, and Sister Maria, Grandbrother Hector, Aila and Annais and the rest of the Finn-family Sandstrum trolls that I loved them very much. And the $30.78 that's left in my 401(k) after the stellar stock market performance of 2008 should be divided evenly between Aila and Annais, and their boxer, Binx.

Cousin Tina: Noted. We have 1.5 miles to go until we're at the turn-around point.

A-L: Can I pee when we we get to the turn-around point? And are there hot tubs there? And wine and cheese?

Cousin Holly: Plenty of whine along the way.

Cousin Tina: Lincoln Airport is our turn-around point.

A-L: Are we only in Nebraska? We've been riding for days.

Cousin Tina: It's been 40 minutes. And we're not in the Midwest, technically. We're 7 miles away from where we started. Still in California.

A-L: Will search and rescue be able to find us out here?

Cousin Tina: I'm going to let Holly field that question.

Radio silence.

Mile 8.5 -

Cousin Tina: We'll, we're here.

A-L: Where are they hiding the hot tubs and the buffet table? This looks like a cul-de-sac next to an airstrip. And I have to pee.

Cousin Tina: You can pee here.

A-L: With low-flying aircraft overhead?

Cousin Tina: It's either that or hold it all the way back to the house.

A-L: How far is it back to the house?

Cousin Tina: Divide 17 by 2.

A-L: I didn't bring a calculator. And the suspense is killing me.

Cousin Tina: It'll take us just as long to get home as it did to get here.

A-L: If I can keep up that same pace.

Cousin Holly: Really? Do you think you could possibly ride your bike more slowly than you did on the way here?

And by some miracle we made it back to the house, on bikes.

A-L: Tina, do you think I'll be in shape by April to join you on the Wildflower 60-mile bike ride in Chico?

Radio silence.

A Poem

It's probably poetry week somewhere at a library in the Midwest, so in celebration, here's the poem my upstairs neighbor might have written to me.

A Poem To My Downstairs Neighbor, If I Wrote One

Why must you dry your hair, at 8 a.m.?
Which is the middle of the night.
Practically.
They make silencers for hair dryers.
I think you should buy one.
A nice one.
Or just go for a bike ride.

Why must you laugh, ever?
Your laugh is so very shrill.
Stop hanging out with funny people,
Or better yet, stop laughing
at your
own
jokes.
So loudly.

Why must you cook with garlic?
Please stop.

Why must you listen to that CD again?
Get an iPod.
And press shuffle.

When is your sub-let over?

The end.

Missing: Jeffrey

Sister Maria: Do you remember Jeffrey?

A-L: I know a couple Jeffs, but no one who refers to himself as Jeffrey. Give me a hint.

Sister Maria: Aila's giraffe, Jeffrey?

A-L: A stuffed animal, I take it. I don't think I ever met him, unless he was a guest at one of the elaborate tea parties Aila hosts. Perhaps I sat next to him. Must have been a quiet fellow.

Sister Maria: Well, Aila took Jeffrey to kindergarten, to cuddle with during nap time.

A-L: And Jeffrey converted to Presbyterianism, and wouldn't come back home with her to the Catholic/Lutheran home you and Hector have so lovingly built?

Sister Maria: No, she took Jeffrey to school, on a Friday, and left him there. By accident, of course.

A-L: Don't tell me, the Presbyterians sacrificed him on Sunday.

Sister Maria: What is wrong with you? Irma and Public Safety Pete didn't raise us to be hateful people.

A-L: Sorry. I have too much time on my hands. And now Jim Morrison is singing the soundtrack to the video of the stuffed giraffe in flames on the altar.

Sister Maria: Anyway, when Aila returned to kindergarten the following Monday, Jeffrey was gone. One of the kids at Sunday school must have taken him. She was devastated.

A-L: I can imagine. She's such a sensitive little soul. Did you make a missing poster? I had a friend whose dad lived in Columbia, and his pet parrot flew away, and he put an ad in the local paper. So people started calling him and imitating a parrot voice, which is ironic. I think. Although being American, I'm not supposed to fully understand irony.

Sister Maria: Are you drunk? Do I look a woman who has time to make a missing poster, for a stuffed giraffe? We asked in the school office if anyone had turned Jeffrey in, but no dice.

A-L: Is the moral of the story that you wish you had sent Aila to a public school, where you expect people to steal things from one another, because they're heathens?

Sister Maria: When did you become so self-righteous? Don't answer that. So this morning, Aila said she really wanted to take a stuffed animal to school, because she wanted to cuddle with something during nap time.

A-L: Don't we all.

Sister Maria: So, I told her she could take a stuffed animal, but she is responsible for it, and if it gets lost, she'll be really sad. So do you want to know which stuffed animal she chose?

A-L: Don't tell me it was Annais's blue puppy? or the giant Elmo that Aunt Chrissy bought them?

Sister Maria: No, it was Kitty's horse.

A-L: I have a confession. That stuffed horse never belonged to Kitty. It was mine, a joke present a friend bought me when I told him I wanted a pony. I just told Aila that it was Kitty's, and that Kitty had asked me to pass it on to her because, uh, because I like to make stuff up. And because Aila never got to meet Kitty.

Sister Maria: The phone line was breaking up there. I missed all of that.

A-L: I just said that I know Aila will look after Kitty's horse. And I'm sure he'll come home with her this afternoon, safe and sound. He's pretty street smart, and I don't think he'll let himself be fooled by any Presbyterians trying to lure him to Sunday service.

Sister Maria: Well, I hope not. But I told Aila that she has to look after Kitty's horse very carefully, and that she doesn't want him to end up where Jeffrey ended up.

A-L: You're such a guilt tripper.

Sister Maria: I know. So Aila's reply was, "but I don't know where Jeffrey ended up."

A-L: Ohmigosh, that's heart-breaking. I wonder what she imagines. Is Jeffrey lying in a ditch somewhere, or is he now an indentured servant for the altar guild?

Sister Maria: So, of course, now I'm worried sick about Kitty's horse. I put a name tag on him, with Aila's details.

A-L: While we've been talking, I e-mailed Kitty, and she's sent me the link to the place where she bought her horse. Douglas is his name, and if you click here, you can see a photo of him. (He's the tan fellow, with the white mane.) So if the Presbyterians take him hostage, we'll send in a decoy.

Sister Maria: Good idea.

Overheard at Cafe

Man at cafe: My first job was delivering laundry.

Lady at cafe: Dirty laundry?

Safety First

Caroline: Hi, I can't talk for long. My friend is coming over to watch The Real Housewives of Orange County. Have you seen it?

A-L: Is the Pope German? I don't have a television, but maybe they'll be showing it on the big screen at the Abbey Tavern on Geary, where I watch Scottish football matches.

Caroline: Probably not. Different target market. The show's about to start. Let's talk tomorrow, after the pool electrician leaves.

A-L: Why would one need a pool electrician? Are you having an intercom installed so when we're in the hot tub, we can summon Dave to bring down drinks from the kitchen? Or is it a loudspeaker to scare the raccoons out of the pool?

Caroline: No, nothing scares the raccoons. We've surrendered to them, and they're now living downstairs, in the man cave.

A-L: In Dave's man cave? I thought you said I could stay there when I come up to Portland?

Caroline: Oh you can. They've put in bunk beds. Lots of them. The pool electrician is coming over to install an electronic pool cover.

A-L: Cool. Can we surf on it?

Caroline: Um, no. Bring rollerskates.

Maybe Next Year...

Gemma, dear readers, is the Paris correspondent for The Ferocious Reader. She is one of the Publishing Ladies, and an expert on Auster-Doyle syndrome.

Gemma: Were you at the annual Valentines Day pillow fight in San Francisco?

A-L: No. I'm Protestant. We don't celebrate pillow fights.

Gemma: Why not?

A-L: Because they're frivolous. And messy.

Gemma: And?

A-L: And because I was raised by a woman who lived through WWII. Pillows are not just for Valentines Day. They're for a lifetime. Especially for the Finns.

Gemma: How so?

A-L: Well, everyone knows the Finns used some brilliant tactics - like the Molotov Cocktail and white uniforms which camouflaged soldiers in the snow - to humiliate the Russian army during the Winter War, but it's a little known fact that their greatest weapon in defeating Stalin's army was...

Gemma: The pillow?

A-L: That's right. And that's the REAL reason why I can never attend the San Francisco Valentines Day Pillow Fight.

Gemma: And because you didn't know about it until someone in Paris told you.

Quiz

Here's what I learned when I was apartment hunting in San Francisco:

1. (Two cats) x (casual/non-existent housekeeping) + (super nice owners) = (pervasive cat pee odor)
Please note that the addition of (super nice owners) does not negate cat pee smell, no matter where in the equation it sits. This equation can also result in (more cats), which means you can square (pervasive cat pee odor).

2. (A stovetop wrapped in tin foil) + (doormats outside each of the bedrooms) x (nervous apartment owner) = (perpetually feeling like you're 11 years old and about to spill hot chocolate on mean grandma's white sofa)
You can substitute (grandma) with the following for the same result: (relative, neighbor, or piano teacher); and (hot chocolate) can be substituted with: (red wine, coffee or molasses).

10 Points Extra Credit
3. Including the following information in an ad for a sublet: (I am a thirty-one year old woman originally from NYC. I am a professional chef and freelance writer who moved to the Bay Area from a farm-based restaurant I ran in Georgia to cook at Chez Panisse, where I spent a year and a half. I currently work from home, writing full-time about food and culture, but spend many nights and weekends at my boyfriend's house in the Mission. The rest of the time I do yoga, cook, read, and work on sustainable food projects with Slow Food Berkeley.) =

A. (General confusion about why work experience at Chez Panisse is included.)
B. (Am I going to be tested on your hobbies?)
C. (Is it relevant that your boyfriend lives in the Mission?)
D. (Other answer, listed in comments.)

Poem for my Upstairs Neighbor

Dear upstairs neighbor,
I don't know you
Just your footsteps
How many feet do you have?
Many, many feet
Heavy feet
Running, jumping feet

Dear upstairs neighbor,
I don't know you
Just your thrash metal
Turned waaay up
Even after midnight
When I get a job
I will buy you headphones
Nice ones

Dear upstairs neighbor,
I don't know you
Just that you're learning to play the bongos
Against the wooden floor
Which acts like
One
Big
Giant
Bongo drum
Especially after midnight

Dear upstairs neighbor,
I don't know you
Just that you go to bed at 4 a.m.
And I lie awake
And dream of new hobbies for you
Like stamp collecting
and
Coloring.

The Skirt of Many Colors

A-L: Should I be insulted that a woman came up to me on Thursday and asked if my skirt was recycled?

Kitty: You’re not still wearing the patchwork skirt you bought from Joey D. in Edinburgh?

A-L: Of course I am. I like it.

Kitty: Well, let’s think about this. It is San Francisco, so “recycled” has positive connotations. Even if the undertone is “your skirt looks like Dolly Parton’s mom made it from the box of rags”.

A-L: Thanks. You always make me feel better.

Off Center Piece

Kitty suffering under the house rules at Perth Street:












Kitty enjoying new, more cat-centric, house rules:

Dress Rehearsal

Kitty: What is it now?

A-L: I need your help practicing for interviews.

Kitty: Ok. We'll start with my favorite question, "What's your biggest weakness?"

A-L: I'm a perfectionist?

Kitty: Try again.

A-L: Uh, I'm not very good at parallel parking?

Kitty: Are you applying for a job as a valet again?

A-L: No. How about this, I'm selfless and am always putting other people's needs ahead of mine, which isn't healthy.

Kitty: Are you reading that off of something? You can't take a script with you into an interview.

A-L: It's a brochure about co-dependency. I've put it away. Ok, for real, here's my biggest flaw: I'm too funny, and it can be distracting because everyone loves working with me.

Kitty: So you're delusional and self-obsessed. This is good. We're getting somewhere.

A-L: This isn't therapy. We're supposed to be practicing for an interview.

Kitty: You're the one reading off a mental health brochure. Why don't you stick with the parallel parking answer? And good luck.

Edinburgh v. San Francisco

Kitty: I'm dying to know how San Francisco compares to Edinburgh.

A-L: You are?? That's so sweet. Are you thinking of getting a passport and coming to live with me? I'd love it.

Kitty: Hell no. Jenny lets me chill on the dining room table. And there's a dog here. He does whatever I tell him. I'm just curious. Besides me, what do you miss about Scotland?

A-L: Well, I miss Kebab Mahal, and that crazy ecstatic feeling you get in Scotland when you see the sun.

Kitty: You read The Sun?

A-L: That too. We see the sun here almost every day, which gets boring. Kind of.

Kitty: So you miss me, some hole-in-the-wall Indian restaurant, and??

A-L: Uh, cobblestones. And IRN-BRU. It's made in Scotland, fae girders. And I miss watching Scottish football at a decent hour. And I miss hearing the Scottish accent.

Kitty: Wow, I never realized how shallow you were.

A-L: You've always known how shallow I am. I only stole you because you matched the color scheme in the flat on Perth Street.

Kitty: So, you don't miss any people? What about all those communists you knew?

A-L: They were Lefties, not Leftists, you foolish cat. And of course I miss my former colleagues, left-handed or not, and the servers at the Christian Center (where you can get a baked potato for 3.00 or 3.50, depending on who's working the cash register), my flatmates, friends from Napier, and friends picked up along the way.

Kitty: And?? Which is better?

A-L: It's too early to tell. I haven't found a cat that matches the decor yet, and I've only met one Lefty (who is a publisher, of course), so it's early days.

Kitty: Wow, you're shallow AND wishy washy.

Privacy

A-L to 3-year-old Carley, daughter of friend Kate.

A-L: Hi Carley, how old are you?

Carley: I'm three.

A-L: Wow. When are you going to be four?

Carley: On my Birthday.

Mom Kate: I'm going to start saying that when people ask me when I'm going to be 40. "On my birthday."

The Job Hunt - Day 300

A-L: I found the perfect job.

Sister Maria: Under the refrigerator, or inside the vacuum cleaner bag?

A-L: Good guess.

Sister Maria: I imagine it's in the Etc. portion of Craigslist. Are you converting to Judaism so you can donate your eggs to a loving Jewish couple?

A-L: I don't meet the minimum requirements: Irma's a Gentile. And my Math score on the SAT wasn't exactly stellar.

Sister Maria: And it's a bit of a race against the clock. You've only got 4 months before some couple thinks you're too old to be the biological mother of their Jewish baby.

A-L: That's why I'm going to apply to be a Private Investigator.

Sister Maria: Ok, let's do a practice interview now. And the following CANNOT be used as answers to the question "What qualifications do you have?"

1. I watched Murder, She Wrote when I was in elementary school
2. I LOVE Cold Case Files
3. I only have six more episodes of The Wire to watch.
   

A-L: Pass.

Sister Maria: Ok, next question. The job requires "sitting patiently" for hours. Is this something you could do?

A-L: Pass.

Sister Maria: They describe the ideal candidate as having "strong common sense". Can you comment on that?

A-L: Define "strong".

Sister Maria: I imagine you would have to maintain confidentiality, and be pretty selective about when and how you use binoculars.

A-L: Can you please restate the question?

Sister Maria: Technically that's the answer. You wouldn't be able to blog about a) seeing the job on Craigslist, b) applying for the job, c) getting the job, or d) any of your adventures on the job.

A-L: That's B-O-R-I-N-G. I mean, I think I'm overqualified.

San Francisco Tourist Attractions

A-L: Hi Emma, when are you coming to visit me?

Emma: Soon. I'm dying to see the Nutcracker.

A-L: Bad news. He's dead. Or hibernating.

Emma: You killed the 3rd Avenue Nutcracker?

A-L: Uh, I think so. Public Safety Pete and cousins Tim and Tom were in town last Wednesday. We went for dim sum, and of course we walked back to my house via 3rd Avenue. I think we were the last people to see the Nutcracker alive.

Emma: How did you kill him?

A-L: We went up and touched him to find out what he's made of.

Emma: You didn't! You touched him?!

A-L: He's made of fiberglass.

Emma: Was made of fiberglass. I think I'll schedule a trip to San Francisco to coincide with the birth of the next Nutcracker. When do you think that'll be?

A-L: Shortly after Labor Day, I'm sure. It's supposed to be lovely in San Francisco in Autumn. The leaves turn and the Nutcrackers hatch.

Premonition

Annais: I had a dream that there were angels at Momma's (Irma's) house.

Sister Maria: What were the angels doing?

Annais: Cleaning.

Raucous laughter from Sister Maria.

Happy Birthday, Sister Maria

A-L: I can't believe you're 38! Happy Birthday. It seems like yesterday that we had your 10th birthday party at the house in Germany.

Sister Maria: Yesterday?? It was Reagan's first term.

A-L: Nancy Reagan was president?

Sister Maria: You're so predictable.

Signs

A-L: Hi Kitty, I miss you.

Kitty: Have you found a job yet?

A-L: Not yet, but things are looking up.

Kitty: I knew things would turn around. You know, until last Sunday Mercury was in retrograde.

A-L: Is that near Glasgow?

Kitty: No, it's a planet, and its position was impeding your job search.

A-L: I didn't know you believed in that stuff.

Kitty: Of course I do. I'm a typical Taurus.

A-L: What makes you think you're a Taurus?

Kitty: My birthday is May 11, 2005, and I exhibit all the Taurus traits. I'm stubborn, reliable, a financial wizard, and I like a comfortable life and expensive things.

A-L: I hate to break it to you, but no one knows when you were born, or even how old you are. I made up that date. You could be 14 years old for all I know. And a Capricorn.

Kitty: But I'm twelve days older than Annais. And I was a tiny kitten when you stole me.

A-L: You were small, but I always attributed that to cigarette smoke having stunted your growth.

Kitty: I never smoked.

A-L: Yes, but you always lived with people who did. I bet you've got a half-pack-a-day secondhand smoker's habit. It was Paul's plan to stunt your growth, and market you as a Shetland Kitten, online.

Kitty: Then maybe the Obama family would want me.

A-L: As if. The last thing they need on their family holidays is a stubborn cat complaining that the thread-count on the hotel sheets isn't high enough.

San Francisco: Nutcrackers Welcome

I love Christmas as much as the next Christmas-loving person, and I have a high tolerance for yuletide lights and trees that survive into early January, but I think it's reasonable that when February dawns, all outdoor Christmas decorations should be fast asleep in their plastic crates under the stairs/in the attic/in the guest bedroom closet/in the garage. Especially the two-story tall Nutcracker that stands guard outside the house around the corner (on 3rd Avenue between Anza and Geary, if you're up for the drive). Yes, of course there were originally two Nutcrackers, but his partner who was stationed to the right of the front door collapsed a couple days after the Inauguration. In relief, I think.

I haven't gotten close enough to see what Mr. Nutcracker is made of, but it's something strong. He's now survived Chinese New Year, the Super Bowl, the worst recession since 1945, and has a little more than a week and half to go until Valentines Day. It's a testament to the live-and-let-live nature of San Francisco that he can stand tallish (he's tilting a bit) and proud well into February.

Inspection

Sister Maria: Hi, what are you doing?

A-L: I'm exhausted. I've been cleaning all day.

Sister Maria: Aren't you supposed to be job hunting?

A-L: I thought maybe I'd find a job under the refrigerator. I scrubbed the bathroom, and even vacuumed the vacuum cleaner.

Sister Maria: Is Irma coming to visit??

A-L: Close. Pete will be here tomorrow.

Sister Maria: Public Safety Pete is coming to visit and you wasted a whole afternoon cleaning? You know the first thing he's going to do is a fire safety inspection. You don't have any battery-less smoke alarms in the place, do you?

A-L: Maria, I live in an old Victorian house that's been converted into a maze of apartments. My bedroom is what used to be the dining room, a couple lives in the garage, and the lights flicker when someone upstairs uses the garbage disposal. There is NO WAY this place is going to pass Pete's safety inspection. So I thought it was best to dust door jambs and mop the kitchen floor.

Sister Maria: You've got it all wrong. Pete wouldn't notice a dusty door jamb unless it had a sparking wire on it. He'll be focused on overloaded sockets, fraying wires, a malfunctioning oven fan, obstructed exits, and slippery stairs.

A-L: I'll keep the lights low.

Sister Maria: How long will it take you to find a new apartment?

Dispatch from the Field

E-mail from friend AC:

Hi, Here's a new one for your blog: "My company just hired 5 people today, despite the lousy economy." OK, what's the message here? That if her company hired 5 people, why can't I get a job too? That the economy really isn't THAT bad? That I'm not trying hard enough? What? What, already!?"

Dear AC,

Yes, take the hint. The job market really isn't that bad. We're just of a generation that is content sitting at home and blogging (or in your case, e-mailing) about our woes. What we should be doing is pounding the pavement, knocking on doors. Which is exactly what I will be doing if I get a job working for www.census2010.gov. Apparently they're hiring.

And the woman you describe above must have been at the Super Bowl party I attended yesterday, disguised as a man. Here's the conversation I had with her (him):

A-L: Hi, what's your name? Are you hiring?

Mr. You're-just-not-trying-hard-enough: Oh my gosh, I'm sooo busy. I could totally use more help.

A-L: So, you're hiring? Where do I apply?

Mr. YJNTHE: Oh, I'm not hiring, I'm just really busy. I already have an assistant. She makes about $50 an hour. That's pretty good, huh?

Of course I didn't know how to reply. Was that supposed to make me feel better? or worse? or was it just an arbitrary question? Anyway, I feigned a heart attack (after lots of chicken wings, half a burger, a gallon of spinach dip, and 32 butterscotch haystacks) and walked away.

So, I went back to the dining area, where a friend deduced that all of the companies that were advertising during the Super Bowl must be hiring. So after EVERY commercial, she turned to me and said, "So, they're hiring." There are lots of commercials during the Super Bowl. After a commercial from a wind energy company, and the subsequent "so, they're hiring", I turned to her and said, "Now I can finally put to use that PhD in Sustainable Energy that I've been sitting on all these years." I didn't have the energy to be aggressive, just passive aggressive.

AC, the moral of the story is don't go to Super Bowl parties. Stay at home and job hunt.

Your friend,
A-L

Was a Bit of a Fuzzy Line

Kitty: Hello?

A-L: Hi Kitty, it's me.

Kitty: Are you calling collect?

A-L: No, I borrowed my roommate's mobile phone. How are you?

Kitty: I'm good, thanks. You're not using me to generate material for that web site, are you? You know it backfires. You end up alienating about three quarters of your readership when you give a cat a speaking part. Especially when you do it at 9pm on a Saturday night. Are you out on the town?

A-L: No, I'm not "out on the town". I'm at home, job hunting. How are things in Scotland? Are you loving your new home in Culross?

Kitty: Yeah, it's great. I'm totally spoiled here. They let me sit on the kitchen table, which is something I only ever did in Edinburgh when you were asleep, or in the living room, or in London, or anywhere but the kitchen. Have you found a job yet?

A-L: No, I'm still looking. But it turns out you were right all along and I should have done that online course in Bankruptcy Law you suggested. I met a bankruptcy attorney yesterday who said business is booming.

Kitty: The Scottish economy is robust, as far as I can tell. Is it really that bad there?

A-L: It depends on who you ask. I hear lots of anecdotal evidence of a strong economy. Today someone suggested I should apply to companies in the Silicon Valley because "they're totally still hiring". (Emphasis is mine.)

Kitty: Have you looked on Craigslist?

"Intellectual" Property

My roommate, MWM, and I got to talking about Alzheimer's and dementia the other night. My favorite (can I say that??) dementia story is of an elderly Finnish woman who would not leave her house, and move into an assisted-care facility, despite the fact that she could no longer take care of herself. She was only convinced to move when someone told her that the Russians were coming, and they knew of the *perfect* hiding place.

So MWM said: That's what you call The Lighter Side of Alzheimer's.

A-L: What a great name for a blog. I'm going to register that.

MWM: It was my idea.

A-L: Thanks, MWM. Keep the good ideas coming.

Things Could be Worse

"Things Could be Worse" is another school of thought. Yesterday evening, my friend Yang and I met a toothless saxophone player*. (This is San Francisco, after all.) Yang dragged me out of the cafe before I could suggest that the man take up piano.

*Do I need to add that he's unemployed?

Are you hiring?

If you're serious about a job, don't put "PICK ME! PICK ME!" in the subject line of the e-mail to the hiring manager. Apparently it's not very professional. Also, include a cover letter.

Dear Jobless Readers

I have some advice for you, which I have collected with the help of some new (also unemployed) friends. Below you will find a list of the most commonly reoccurring pieces of advice from the gainfully employed:

1. Don't hang out with other unemployed people. It will give you the false impression that everyone is unemployed, and that it's ok not to be working.

2. You should apply for the (insert low-paying mindless) job. Dog walking and espresso making are two suggestions I have heard. (This is part of the "take any job you can while there are still some left" school of thought.)

2. Keep checking Craigslist, because no one else knows about it, so employers are posting well-paid jobs up there and *no one* is applying to them.

3. Have you thought about applying to Google? It doesn't matter that you didn't graduate at the top of your class from Harvard, Yale, Stanford or MIT, you have *good* experience. You should go for it. Or gopher it!!

4. And, finally: Don't forget to include a cover letter.

Round One Elimination

I like the jobs that I can eliminate (on craigslist, where else?) by just answering 'NO' to the headline. For example:

Do you like Video Games? - (SOMA / south beach)

No. One less cover letter to customize.

Can You Sell The Super Bowl? - (financial district)

Not if I'm in Vegas, at the craps table.

The Job Hunt (continued)

Back to craigslist.org, only because it is funny and good.

Now, what does it say about me that I clicked on the job advertisement titled "Nitpicker wanted"? As I clicked, I thought "I'm about to find my perfect job." Honestly.

Here's what was really lurking behind this title:

The Hair Whisperers Lice Removal service is looking for someone based in San Fransisco to remove lice and eggs from people infected with lice. Qualified candidates should have valid driver's license, great close up eyesight, feel comfortable going into people's homes, be personable, good with children, and extremely detailed oriented. Squeamish people need not apply. A good sense of humor a plus! A background check is required, and references will be checked as well. To be considered, all applicants must include where they live, and what times and days they are available. Travel is not paid for. No Weekend Only please.
Driving is a large part of this job, and the longer you are willing to drive, the more you will work. Driving is unpaid. You can set your own hours, and choose when you work, but should be available at least a few hours every day. No 9-5-ers looking to start work at 6 pm, as children often go to sleep at 8. We will train qualified applicants. This is an independent contractor position. Training is in Los Angeles. Training and travel to Los Angeles is unpaid and can take anywhere from five to ten hours.

This *has* to be a joke, right? Firstly, why is Los Angeles the ideal training ground for nitpickers? (Although driving down to Los Angeles and advertising a rideshare on Craigslist would open up a whole new avenue for comedy.) Secondly, who has references for this sort of thing? Would they call my former boss, the Sales & Marketing Director at a UK publisher, and ask her to confirm that: a) I can drive, b) I am extremely detail oriented, fastidious, and, er, a bit of a nitpicker, and c) I am comfortable going into strangers' homes?

But no. It's not a joke. Here's their web site.

San Francisco (Day 12) - Saturday, January 17

I love San Francisco because, if you see a 30-something man on the bus, and he's wearing a baby carrier with *something* in it, the following is a totally legitimate question:

"Is there a baby in there?" which is what two people asked him. Because it is equally possible that he's carrying a squirrel, or a couple of kittens, or a half dozen avocados. Turns out it was a 7-week old baby human boy, and not a huge vegetarian burrito (which was my guess).

The Job Hunt

A-L: Hi Maria. I need your help. Looking for a job in San Francisco is impossible.

Sister Maria: Is the economy really bad up there too?

A-L: Uh, I guess, but I just keep getting distracted, and I find that there are too many jobs. How do I narrow it down? Today I found the *perfect* job on craigslist.org under "retail/wholesale jobs" -

Now hiring for all part-time positions at our new Sanrio store (Hello Kitty) in Japan Town San Francisco. We are looking for candidates who are friendly, energetic, dependable, courteous, motivated and customer service oriented.

A-L (cont.): I meet all those requirements, AND I love cats. But it's only part-time.

Sister Maria: Wow, that does sound good, I think. I guess stickers and pencils and glittery Hello Kitty lip gloss are recession proof. But you need something full-time.

A-L: Here's another good one -

Need 2 people to stand on the corner of Mission St. between Ocean and Geneva and simply WAVE to people. Will have to dress up in a Statue of Liberty costume.

A-L (cont.): I can do that. I'm friendly, and good at waving. And I think they meant to say "will get to dress up in a Statue of Liberty costume".

Sister Maria: I don't think you'd look very good in a crown.

A-L: Maybe I could do that job, while I'm doing this one:

Great dog walking position open!! Established dog walking service looking for the right person to work outdoors with great dogs. The job can be really fun and rewarding for dog lovers. You must own a large vehicle, truck with a camper shell, van or an SUV (sorry sedans are too small).

Sister Maria: Sorry to be the spoilsport again, but you drive a sedan. And Kitty would hate you.

A-L: Kitty who?

Sister Maria: The cat you left in Scotland. Remember her?

A-L: Vaguely. Was she the really affectionate one who lived to purr and be held?

Sister Maria: No, that was the cat you left in Sherman Oaks. Puppy was his name.

A-L: Oh yes, that's right. He was a little gem. Anyway, you're right, I have a sedan so I'm not qualified for the dog walking job. How about this -

Looking for a left handed person to demonstrate and sell product in our fun store, LEFTY'S SAN FRANCISCO on PIER 39- we cater to tourists who appreciate interaction and we require that you provide it--- very small store, you can't be the type to bounce off the wall in a small space--- resume not required, please respond with a letter telling me about your experiences as a left handed person and relevant retail selling background.

Sister Maria: Ummm, there are a couple of problems with this one, but I think I should let you work it out for yourself. I can't hold your hand, your right hand, through life. I know you'll find the right job for you.

A-L: You're totally right. And I've gotta go. I'm late for this -

Gay Mens Science Fiction Book Group Are you a gay man? Do you like science fiction? Are you interested in meeting new friends? Are you interested in talking about the books you read? Do you read one or more books a month? Can you come to a book club meeting once a month?

If you can say yes to these questions then please join our group! We are a small friendly informal social group. We meet on the second sunday of the month at Borderlands books. We will be discussing Queen of Angels by Greg Bear on Feb 8.

I'm Pretending This Blog is Facebook

These are my Facebook status changes:

A-L loves that when she calls her sister, who is now in the same time zone, the lady on the voice mail gives her the option 'to page this person', in case they have just travel(l)ed back to 1988.

A-L loves listening to Neutral Milk Hotel in her house in San Francisco across the street from Golden Gate Park.

A-L is wondering if you have heard that she is living in San Francisco?

A-L's mother is Finnish.

San Francisco - Day 6 (Sunday)

There's a windmill (?!) at the end of Golden Gate Park, right across from Ocean Beach (actually, there are two, but more on that later, maybe). I wandered down there on Sunday, and started talking to a man and woman who were dressed, as David Sedaris might say, like they had come to 'mow the lawns of San Francisco': comfortable white tennis shoes (trainers, for you foreigners out there in the Empire), circa 1989 sunglasses, and multiple layers of clothing.

A-L, standing under sign that says "Dutch Windmill": What is this thing? (Meaning: why is it here?)

Tourist man: It's a windmill.

A-L: Wow, you're right. (Meaning: Wow, what's wrong with you?) I wonder why it's here? (Meaning: Why is there a windmill in Golden Gate Park?)

Tourist lady: Well, windmills were usually built near water, to provide electricity.

A-L: Uh huh. (Meaning: Wow, what is wrong with you?) Maybe this sign will tell us something.

So tourist lady proceeded to read the sign to me, in case I can't read. Which was nice of her, I suppose, although she read a bit slowly, for a docent (that means guide, for you foreigners). The sign told us only who paid for the restoration, and not why there's a windmill in Golden Gate Park. So we're back to square one, and now I'm stuck talking to Tourist Man and Lady who think windmills are powered by water.

A-L: So, are you on vacation here?

Tourist Man: Yes, we're from Los Angeles. Where are you from?

A-L: It's a long story, but now I have a vaguely fake Scottish accent and I'm hoping it'll help me get a job at a British-themed pub. I came back to the U.S. because Obama got elected.

Tourist Man: He's just going to continue Bush's fiscal policies. Nothing's going to change. I've been briefed.

A-L: Perhaps you're right, but at least he's articulate and intelligent.

Tourist Man: As long as the tele-prompter is on.

Tourist Lady: That's right.

A-L: You said you've been 'briefed' on his policies. What do you do? Or would you have to kill me if you told me?

Tourist Man: Um, let's just say I'm a consultant.

A-L: Oh, you're unemployed too?

And that's the story of how I managed to find the only two Republicans within the San Francisco city limits, AND accidentally start a political conversation with them.

The End.

Casting Call

Maria: Tomorrow is the Christmas play at Gloria's house. Annais is going to be an angel.

A-L: What?? She played the starring role two years ago. She was baby Jesus. Did her and Gloria fall out?

Maria: I think she's too big to fit in the cradle. And the baby Jesus couldn't talk, or make jokes. No one likes a wise-cracking Savior.

A-L: I don't remember Gloria using a cradle. I think Annais was wrapped in swaddling clothes in a laundry basket. A plastic one. And why has she been downgraded to an angel?

Maria: That's sacrilegious. That's hardly downgrading. The angels were a very important part of the whole scenario.

A-L: Speaking of sacrilegious, you can't refer to the Nativity as a 'scenario', can you?

Maria: And since Aila's kindergarten is closed for Christmas vacation, she'll be making a guest appearance in the scenario.

A-L: As what, Jesus's Mexican cousin?? Is she serving tamales?

Happy Birthday Ted

Ted with his family in September. Today he is 34. Four years in Edinburgh. One of the best flatmates I've ever had.

Reportez Vous from Paris

This past weekend some of the Publishing Ladies gathered in Paris.

A-L: Dawn, I don't speak French because my high school French teacher was from Oxnard and not Lyon, so I need your help communicating with everyone.

Dawn: Where's Oxnard? That sounds dreadful.

A-L: Don't ask. Just help me translate this menu. Por favor.

Dawn: That's Spanish.

A-L: I like to call it Mexican French. What's confit?

Dawn: Uh, it translates as confit.

A-L: Here's one. What's terrine in English?

Dawn: Terrine is usually an hors d'œuvre.

A-L: A what? Have you heard that George Bush said the French don't have a word for entrepreneur?

Jess: Barack Obama started that rumour.

Gemma: Speaking of Barack Obama, my mum loves quilting.

Guillaume (Dawn's beau*): What is quilting?

Dawn (in French): blah blah le blah blah la blah blah patchwork.

Guillaume: Ah, patchwork, I see.

Turns out the French don't have a word for patchwork.

*French for beau.

That Yellow Orb in the Sky

Irma: I have the cutest story to tell you.

A-L: What has Pete said now?? He's always saying the darndest things.

Irma: No, this time it's Aila. Sister Maria and Grandbrother Hector went to a parent-teacher conference last week. And Mrs. Bread-Crumpet reported to them that she had been explaining the planets and stars to the class, when Aila said "but you know, the sun is mostly hydrogen."

A-L: You're right. That's the cutest thing I've ever heard. I can't wait to tell everyone who has internet access. I'll start by e-mailing GW. He's always game for a good niece story.

--

A-L: Hi GW, see above for the latest cute niece story.

GW: Everyone knows that Hydrogen only accounts for approximately 74% of the sun's surface by mass. The remainder is accounted for by Helium. She may have been referring to Hydrogen by volume, I guess.

A-L: She did say mostly Hydrogen.

Crumb-pets

A-L: Hi Maria, how's Kindergarten?

Sister Maria: I'm not in Kindergarten any more.

A-L: You know our lives and conversations now revolve around the two little people you made. How's Aila doing?

Sister Maria: She's well. She loves Kindergarten, and her teacher, Mrs. Crump.

A-L: Do you mean Mrs. Bread-Crumb?

Sister Maria: You heard me, I said Mrs. CrumP.

A-L: Who's Mrs. Crump? Does she have two teachers? This isn't one of those new-fangled job-sharing situations, is it? You're not sending her to a Presbyterian kindergarten, are you? What happened to Mrs. Crumb. Did she leave?

Sister Maria: Turns out her teacher's name is Crump. Like Crum-pet.

A-L: Not as fun as Bread-Crumb, but we'll work with it.

Happy Early Birthday

Emma, I'm so sad you're (sic) birthday's not until March, because I found this:

















from http://cakewrecks.blogspot.com/.

Report from Kindergarten

A-L: Hi, tell me all about Kindergarten.

Sister Maria: Why are you spelling it like we're speaking German? And I'll pass you over to Aila, so she can give you the full report.

A-L: Hi Aila. Tell me everything. How was your first week of Kindergarten?

Aila: Hi. Good. Do you want to talk to my sister?

A-L: I already spoke to Annais. At length. She told me she's wearing a brown dress, and she wants to come visit me, but it's too far away. We've run out of things to say to each other. How was Kindergarten?

Aila: Good. I'm in the quail group and there are roadrunners.

A-L: I guess at Kindergarten in Scotland the groups would be grouse and haggis, maybe. What's your teacher's name?

Aila: Mrs. Crum(b)(p)

A-L: Mrs. Crump?

Aila: No! Mrs. Crumb.

A-L: Oh, Crumb, like bread crumb.

Aila (laughing): Yeah.

A-L: So what does Mrs. Bread-Crumb teach? What did you do all day?

Aila: We had morning snack, and then lunch, and then afternoon snack. And then we learned about earthquakes. When Mrs. Crumb says 'bunny in the hole' we have to get under the desk and cover our heads so we don't bump them. I love you. Bye.

Sister Maria: Hi. Did you get the full report?

A-L: Totally. And I look forward to people Googling 'quail', 'roadrunners' and 'earthquakes', and winding up reading Aila's modern-day, Southern California Kindergarten tale.

Product Launch

Annais: Mommy, I'm hungry.

Sister Maria: What would you like to eat?

Annais: A Gorilla bar.

True Story

Pete: Hello, this is Pete.

A-L: Hi Pete. How was the County Fair? Tell me everything. Did Aila and Annais have fun? What did they say? They're so cute. Tell me all the funny things they said.

Pete: Yes, they had a good time.

A-L: What did you see at the Fair? What did Aila and Annais say?

Pete (soundingly faintly annoyed): Oh, we had a great time. We saw the animals, and went down the big slide.

A-L: What animals? Did you see all the art projects? Did they ride the ponies? Were there baby chicks there? And bunnies? What did they say??

Pete: Oh, they loved the animals. They saw the cows and goats and pigs.

A-L: What did they say?

Pete: Oink, oink.

L. Ron Gemma

When Publishing students* go to the London Book Fair...

Gemma: Why is no one speaking to us?

Norette: Uh, probably because we're not offering them thousands for a manuscript, or placing a large order for books, maybe.

Gemma: No, that's not it.

Lady-willing-to-talk-to-students-at-the-London-Book-Fair: Hello, do you have a minute? I'd like to invite you to a reading.

Gemma: Great. Will Paul Auster be there?

LWTTTSATLBF: It'll be a reading from Dianetics by L. Ron Hubbard.

Gemma to Norette: Is that the guy from Happy Days?

Norette: Um, no.

LWTTTSATLBF: The reading's this evening.

Gemma: Will the author be there?

LWTTTSATLBF: No, he died in 1986.

Gemma: Oh, so he'll be there in spirit.

*now known as "the Publishing Ladies"

Bus Trip

On a recent bus trip from Edinburgh to Inverness, Ellie, Gemma and I were seated near some Austrians. Here's how the conversation went:

A-L: Where are you going?

Austrian 1: We are going to Inverness on a houseboating trip.

A-L: Great. The six of us will have a great time.

Austrian 2: Uh...

Gemma to me: Someone stole his sense of humour.

A-L: I lived in Austria for ten months, so now I'm going to speak at you in broken German alternating with English in a German/Austrian accent.

Austrian 2: Uh...

A-L: Let's talk about Austria. What's happening there?

And then I was possessed by an evil troll who made me ask: How's Josef Fritzl?

Austrian 1: Uh.

A-L: Sorry, I don't know what evil troll possessed me to ask that.

Austrian 1: Oh, that's ok, he's the most famous Austrian.

A-L: Uh, not really. Julie Andrews is the most famous Austrian.

Annais's Impersonation of a Fly

The Ted & Kitty Show

Let's face it folks, this blog is nothing more than a vehicle for Ted & Kitty to promote themselves. They've had a free ride for long enough. So, I'm splitting up the act. This December, after three and half years in the same flat, Ted and Kitty are parting ways. Kitty is moving to the States. To the west coast. For a while. Further information forthcoming. Kitty's invited me to join her, and we're flying out to L.A. on December 19th.

So, if you've never seen the comedy stylings of Ted & Kitty live, you have four and half months to do so. Shows daily, except Sundays.

Ma Ria

Sister Maria: Did I tell you my friend got engaged at Costco?

Chu Lia

And like a gift from heaven, temporary Chinese flatmate Julia (probably not her real name) has been dropped into my life. I returned to Edinburgh yesterday from my trip to the surface of the sun (Coachella) to find the living room strewn with personal effects. Kitty was curled up on a tourist map of the Highlands, reading a Chinese/English dictionary. She glared at me, snapped her fingers, and Julia appeared. Julia wears mismatched pajamas all day. Except when she goes outside. In an attempt to be hospitable, I’ve been wearing pajamas since I returned. I’ve made the jetlag rookie move of sleeping when you’re tired, ie: all day. I woke up today at 6 p.m., just in time for Julia to cook me a delicious stir fry breakfast. She tells me she’s not a very good cook, and back home in China her family only lets her do the dishes. I let her do both. She makes a mean garlic, ham, cabbage stir fry. It went really well with my morning coffee. And just when I was wondering if Julia would be of any use to me, she told me she’d like to go to France, and visit Disneyland Paris. “I want to dance with Mickey Mouse.”

Unfortunately Julia’s leaving on Tuesday.

Menu Planning

Sister Maria: We're bbq-ing for Fourth of July right?

Grandbrother Hector: Yes, I was thinking we could get some hot dogs and grill some chicken.

Sister Maria: Can we get those really good Frankfurters?

G’bro Hector: Um no. What’s wrong with you? I’m not cooking German sausage on Fourth of July. You can save that for your D-Day bbq.

Good News/Bad News

Sara, Brad, I have good news and bad news. The good news is there are some nice photos from the wedding. The bad news is that this is the best one:

$1 to the writer of the best caption.

Sweetness to the One-Millionth Power

Sunday morning, E-A-R-L-Y...

Annais: A-L, I am so happy to see you.

And then I melted...

Ninety, Two Hundred Ten

Just so I can have *more* Polish people in my life, I tutor Jacek in English once a week. This evening one of the stories in his workbook mentioned Beverly Hills.

Jacek: You know Beverly Hills Ninety, Two-Hundred-Ten?

A-L: Of course I do.

I think it's near Melrose Plaice

Elusive Niece

Telephone Conversation with Annais:

A-L: Hi Annais.

Annais: Hi A-L. What's your phone number?

A-L: I'll give you my mobile number. But remember you have to dial +011 and then the country code, and you drop the zero. What's your phone number?

Annais: 1-2-3-4

Ted at the Health Club

Ted was home in Poland for two and half weeks, and arrived back in Edinburgh on Friday. Which means there are now 55 kilos of Polish sausage in our refrigerator. "Pig", he keeps telling me. I think he means "pork".

So on Saturday morning I asked Ted if he wanted to go with me to my gym, as a guest, so he could soak in the jacuzzi.

Ted: Jacuzzi? Fantastic.

A-L: I'll take that as a yes.

Ted: 15 minutes.

And then he has a conference with Justyna behind closed doors. And comes back to me and says, "maybe problem." So I summon him back to Justyna's room so she can translate and help me understand what the "maybe problem" is.

Turns out he's nervous about the situation because he's never been to a gym. So I explain to Justyna the order of operations, and she translates. He seems happy with the explanation.

Ted: 15 minutes. Ok?

A-L: Let's go now.

Ted: Shave first.

A-L: You can shave at the gym.

Ted disappears into the bathroom, for ages. Ages. And then I hear the shower start.

A-L: What is he doing? He can take a shower at the gym, AFTER we go in the jacuzzi.

Justyna: Is this my first speaking part on your blog?

A-L: It'll be your last if you don't stick to the script. Why is he showering?

Justyna: It's a basic principle - you shower and get ready before you leave the house, no matter where you are going.

So Ted finally is ready: collared shirt, suede jacket, nice trousers. We arrive at the gym, which is accessed by a swipe card, and ascend the dark steel staircase. It's a bit like going into a secret lair, if you're Ted. He indicates he's nervous, by showing his heart is pounding. So we check in, and get towels. And then, it takes me 15, maybe 17, minutes to explain that he has to change in the men's locker room, which you enter by a door from the workout area, and then exit down to the pool through another door and an internal hallway.

Hallway, internal, access, and second are all words Ted doesn't know. And then he seems confused about where he's supposed to change. Uh oh.

Ted: Where get dressed?

A-L: In the men's locker room, Ted. Not on the treadmill. Or in the internal hallway.

Ted: Key?

A-L: There's a token that you have to insert in the coin slot, which releases the key. I'm going to change. I'll see you in the jacuzzi.

So I'm in the jacuzzi long enough to make friends with a couple from London, and Ted still isn't down at the pool area. I explain to them why I keep looking towards the entrance, and how I'm a little worried that I've lost a Pole in the bowels of Escape Health Club. And then Ted swans down the stairs, with a towel wrapped tightly around his waist.

Uh oh. It's not that kind of jacuzzi party. This isn't Dave and Caroline's.

I look alarmed. Ted looks and me and my new best friends, and says "oh". He looks sheepish. He does an about face, and heads back towards the stairs. And then he takes his towel off to reveal: the shorts I leant him to wear in the jacuzzi.

We jacuzzied, swam, saunaed, lounged on the lounge chairs. All went well. On the walk home Ted said "jacuzzi first time, 33 years old."

Caroline & Dave's Baby

Welcome Anneke, aka "Big Dutch Baby".

And it seems the mother's contact with coyote urine while pregnant means Anneke won't pee in the yard, or the pool.

For Gemma

Love, Kitty

Report from Coachella

Below is a report from Sister Maria. She's disguised here as 'Mommy'.

Last night I was putting Aila and Annais to bed, and the following conversation took place:

Aila: Mommy, I will love you forever. I will love Daddy forever too.

Mommy: We will love you forever & ever too!

Aila: But when I grow up I’m going to have to go away, and I’ll miss you so much.

Mommy: You can stay with us for as long as you like!

Annais: Yeah, I have to go away when I’m big too.

Mommy: Please stay a little bit longer.

Annais: No, I have to go. I’ll miss you.

Mommy: Where are you going to go?

~ long pause ~

Annais: I’m going to go to Costco.

Near Cat-astrophe

Let me set the scene for you. That's what I'm here for.

Saturday. Ted arrives back at the flat from the nightshift around 9:30 a.m. Kitty has a vet appointment at 10:20 a.m. (Why she made a Saturday morning appointment is beyond me.)

Getting Kitty to Dundas Veterinary (a 3-minute walk from the flat) means capturing Kitty, placing her in vet-supplied cardboard box with air holes, and closing the super-complicated lid. This requires twelve hands.

A-L: Ted, please help me. Kitty needs to go to the doctor.

No answer.

A-L: Ted, can you help me?

Ted: Keys. Where are keys?

A-L: Nevermind the keys. I have keys. Please help me place this flailing cat into the flimsy cardboard box (with air holes), and close the super complicated lid 'system'.

Ted is waaaay too laid back at first, and is AMAZED at how Kitty can squeeze herself out through the teeniest of tiniest spaces, many times over.

Five minutes later, and Kitty is contained. And mewing. Not meowing.

A-L: Let's go.

Ted grabs the cat in a box. I close the front door. And then shake my handbag to confirm that I have keys. This is the incorrect order of operations.

No keys. Ted, Kitty and I are now locked out of the flat. Justyna is gone hillwalking for the day. Super. Can we sit in the pub all day, with a mewing cat in a box? Ted's just back from a nightshift, and presumably doesn't want to take cat in a box on a walking tour of Edinburgh, although it is a lovely day. Friend and expert cat-sitter, Gordon, has a set of keys but is still in Morocco, I think.

So we ignore the problem at hand, and walk to the vet's office.

Vet: Oh, she's beautiful. (As Kitty pretends to be normal and loving, and allows Ted to pet her head as the vet takes her heartbeat.)

A-L: Can you tell if she's autistic or passive-aggressive by her heartbeat?

Vet: She's so affectionate.

A-L: Yes, she's always like this. Around trained professionals. Did you find a heartbeat? Because I'm convinced she's a robot of some sort.

Vet: Look at that sweet face.

A-L: That's a hologram.

Vet: She has beautiful teeth. Usually by this age they're covered in tartar.

A-L: Ted brushes them, with Justyna's toothbrush.

Vet: Well, she's very healthy. I can tell she's loved and cared for.

A-L: Yeah, that's why we brought her here in a box. Do you happen to have keys to our flat?

Vet: See you next time. Bye Kitty.

Turns out Gordon was back from Morocco, so Ted, cat in a box, and I got back in. But if he had still been away, this could have been a *really* interesting story. Justyna and Guiseppe didn't get home until 11 p.m.

Kitty now has her own set of keys.

Country Roads

Last Saturday Ted and I were homesick, so I introduced him to an old friend: John Denver. We played the Greatest Hits album. We turned the stereo waaaay up. Waaay too loud for a Saturday at 11 a.m. Ted loved it.

How is it that John Denver's music can speak to/resonate with a 33-year-old Polish man living in Scotland? And then I recalled something my friend Brad said a couple months ago, "Poland is the West Virginia of Europe." Ah, of course.

I haven't told Ted yet that John Denver is no longer with us.

The Raccoon Whisperer

Caroline: The raccoons have started tagging the back yard fence, and Dave found a dead possum in the pool.

A-L: Are these two events connected?

Caroline: Classic raccoon mob tactics.

A-L: Why get a possum involved?

Caroline: It's a ruse.

A-L: What are they trying to do? Claim the backyard with the pool, hot tub and BBQ as their own? Are they trying to drive you out? Could it be that they're attracted by the coyote urine?

Caroline: As far as I'm aware raccoons and coyotes are not natural allies in the wild.

A-L: Maybe the raccoons are daredevils, and they're looking for a fight. They obviously have no mercy. They've sacrificed a possum. Is Dave going to clean the pool? And wouldn't coyote urine attract coyotes?

stay tuned...

The Cat Whisperer

Via Messenger (actual transcript):

A-L: Hi Caroline. How are you? How's pregnant married life?

Caroline: Great. We hired a cat therapist.

A-L: Because the cats threw up on your cat self-help book Think Like a Cat?

Caroline: No, there was a whole lotta cat pee goin' on. In the house. So we paid for a telephone consultation with a cat therapist. Turns out coyote urine (available from G.I. Joes.) does the trick.

A-L: Wow. I couldn't make this stuff up.

Caroline: At first we thought it was just Cujo peeing everywhere, but then, while we were on the phone with the cat therapist, Zoe backed up to my closet and peed with impunity!

A-L: What does impunity mean? And where does the coyote urine factor in? Was there some weird poolside baptism? I can double-check with my mom, but I don't think pregnant women are supposed to handle coyote urine. Maybe your baby will have paws.

Caroline: Well, it turns out that Cujo and Zoe were getting upset by all the other cats they could see (through the window) that were coming into our yard, so they were marking their territory. Only inside.

A-L: How many other cats were in the yard?

Caroline: Well, we live on a corner. So it's a crossroads. There's quite a line-up of perpetrators, such as Gray Kitty, Fluffy Gray Kitty, Fake Steve, Fluffy Steve, uh...

A-L: Who's Fake Steve?

Caroline: The cat that looks like Brian and Ashleigh's cat Steve.

A-L: Of course. Why were they all drawn to your yard? The hot tub?

Caroline: That's why the raccoons visit. It's a raccoon swingers' bar come nightfall. Which is a whole 'nother story.

A-L: So, where does the coyote urine factor in?

Caroline: The Cat Therapist said to spray it around the yard to keep the other cats out.

A-L: Of course. It all makes sense. But secretly I wish there had been some weird full-moon coyote urine baptism pot luck. Kitty has the perfect outfit for it.

The Gospel According to Snoopy

In church, on Christmas Eve...

Pastor is reading from Luke 2: 1-20, the story of the birth of Jesus, which includes this passage:

11Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. 12This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."

Aila: Mom, mom, that's from Charlie Brown*!

Insert raucous laughter from A-L and Sister Maria.

*A Charlie Brown Christmas

Car Talk with Irma, Aila & Annais

Almost as funny as Car Talk, are the telephone conversations Irma has with Aila and Annais when they're in the car on the way home from day care.

Irma: Hi Aila, how are you?

Aila: Hi Momma, I'm fine.

Irma: Did you have a good day?

Aila: Yes, I had fun at Gloria's house. We sang songs.

Irma: What did you sing?

Aila: "Away in a Manger"

And then she sang Irma the first verse of "Away in a Manger", paused, and said, "You know Momma, it's a very long song."

Carry On

A-L: Hello.

Pete: Can you fit a snowsuit in your carry-on luggage?

A-L: Who is this?

Pete: It's your mother's boyfriend, the grandfather of the butternut squash.

A-L: Oh, my travel agent. How are ya, Pete?

Pete: Good, but answer the question. Can you fit a snowsuit in your carry-on luggage?

A-L: For what? Am I doing stand-up in business class?

Pete: No, you might need in it Newark, especially if you're spending Christmas there.

A-L: Why have you booked me through Newark? And who in New Jersey has invited me over for Christmas dinner?

Pete: Well, if you'll recall, you booked yourself through Newark. You know I'D never put you on Continental. And there are snowstorms scheduled for Newark.

A-L: I know, it was another rookie move booking a return flight through Newark in December. I'm sure it'll be fine though.

Pete: Did Irma tell you you only have an hour to change flights? She's worried you'll end up staying in New Jersey.

A-L: Forever? Do we have any cousins there?

Pete: Let me check. Hang on, Irma wants to speak to you.

Irma: Hi, A-L. Have you seen the news? They're expecting snowstorms in New Jersey right when you're landing. And you only have an hour to change planes. I hope you make it home for Christmas. It would be terrible if you got stuck in New Jersey.

Name that Gourd

I don't think that's technically a pumpkin, or a 'punkin' as Sister Maria called it. It looks a bit more like a butternut squash.

More English Lessons

Ted came home from work on Thursday morning (as I was heading to work) in an exceptionally good mood. I thought it was appropriate to bid him farewell with "see you later, alligator", which required a quick game of charades (with my arms playing the role of the alligator's mouth) and a look in the Polish/English dictionary. And then I of course had to introduce the phrase "in a while, crocodile."

We haven't had a chance to practice the exchange, but I'll let you know when Ted's passed the exam. Here's the Answer Key-

A-L: See you later, alligator.

Ted: In a while, crocodile.

Geography

Report from Sister Maria:

This morning in the car on the way to Gloria's, Aila said: "I don't want to go to Spain when I'm 5. I want to go to the big school."

So I responded with "There are big schools in Spain, and besides when we go to Spain we'll be closer to Anna Lisa."

My little geography girl replied: "Anna Lisa lives in Scotland, not Spain!"

I stand corrected.

Airport Journey

Last Thursday morning I escorted Ted to the airport. He was heading back to Poland for two weeks to visit his wife and kids, and was quite worried about going to the airport alone, and figuring out where to check in, etc.

But I wasn't being totally selfless. I didn't get up an hour early just so I could help Ted, and make sure he got on his flight ok. I was banking on the fact that on the journey between the flat and the airport, he would say something hilarious, like 'grandbrother' or 'sister-in-love' or 'tennis problem'.

No such luck. Ted's English is getting too good. I might have to exchange him. Mr. Squirrel said 'Kitty problem' last night (because he thought Kitty was confused by the fact that he had built a shelf above her litter tray), so I suppose he's thrown his hat in the ring. And as an added bonus, Mrs. Squirrel is a darn good cook.

Ted, redeem yourself.

Mr. & Mrs. Squirrel Come to Town

Flatmate Justyna's parents are here from Poland, for 10 days. They don't really speak English, so we speak the international language of vodka and cured meats. It turns out their last name is Polish for 'squirrel', which is probably why Kitty has adopted Mr. Squirrel as her foster mother.

Conversation, via interpreter Justyna, which took place after I caught Mr. Squirrel feeding Kitty pieces of pork off his plate...

A-L: She's for sale. I have papers to prove she's only had fleas once.

Mr. Squirrel (to Kitty): Oh, you can come back to Poland with me.

(Kitty: I need to be hand-fed cured meat.)

A-L: She doesn't have a passport though.

Mrs. Squirrel: She can be on our family passport. If they question us at the airport, we'll just say "it's two squirrels and a cat."

Two days later, Mrs. Squirrel changes her tune...this time no interpreter was present. A Polski/English dictionary, and lotsa hand signals resulted in this conversation:

Mrs. Squirrel: We saw a sign today, for a missing cat.

A-L: Yeah, I was thinking of copying the layout to make a poster saying I've found a cat.

Mr. Squirrel: The cat on the missing poster looks remarkably like Kitty.

Gordon to A-L: Have you told the Squirrels that Kitty is stolen?

A-L: Pipe down, or you won't get any more speaking lines.

Mrs. Squirrel: By my calculations, that cat is worth 150 GBP.

Gordon to A-L: Mrs. Squirrel just referred to Kitty as 'that cat'.

A-L: I know, she's lovely. Kitty hates her too.