Prince Maria

A-L: Do you remember that song about Christmas in Africa?

Maria: Yeah. With WHAM! What's the name of the guy who produced that video?

A-L: I have no idea. Oh wait, Bob Geldof. Sorry, it's actually Sir Bob Geldof.

Maria: Says who?

A-L: The Queen. I guess. She changed his name. With a wand, I think. And so the Brits have to call him Sir Bob. But the Americans don't.

Maria: Because we don't believe in the Queen?

A-L: Exactly. It's the same with Dame Judi Dench.

Maria: Who? Oh yeah, Judi Dench. You threw me off with the whole Dame thing. What's the hierarchy? Is Lady better than Dame or Maiden?

A-L: I'm sure Google knows. But last time I checked they don't hand out the title Maiden. Did you know that Camilla Parker-Bowles is The Duchess of Rothesay when she's in Scotland?

Maria: Only when she's in Scotland? What is she when she's in England?

A-L: Um, I'll leave that one to the comedians. And the Queen's husband, Prince Philip, is known as The Duke of Edinburgh, among other things. And there's a Princess who's known as Princess Michael of Kent, because her husband's name is Michael, I think.

Maria: Well, by that logic, wouldn't that make the Queen's husband Prince Elizabeth, The Duchess of Edinburgh? And what's Fergie known as now?

A-L: Don't bring up the F-word. Or the other one.

Maria: My mother-in-law loves the other one, Princess Diana.

A-L: I think now she's known as the Princess formerly known as Diana. She changed it to get out of some contract with Sony, or the Queen.

Nativity

The nativity play begins at 10:00 a.m. I have been commissioned to photograph the production. Gloria the babysitter is worried that baby Jesus (Annais) will be cranky. Aila, the Princess/Wiseman, has had a cough, and this morning the Christ child sounded congested. Report to follow.

Gross

So, I was walking the dog in my sister's neighborhood, minding my own business (publishing) and then 'the neighbor' pulls up...

Neighbor: Ohmigod, are you Maria's sister? You look exactly like her.

A-L to herself: We have the same parents, and they look alike.

A-L to neighbor: Yeah, people always say that.

Neighbor: Ohmigosh, so, are you home alone? What have you been doing? How long have you been here? Are you enjoying your visit?

A-L to herself: I'm old enough to stay home alone.

A-L to Rudy: Oh, I've been helping my sister out, and relaxing a bit.

Rudy: Ohmigod, do you want me to show you around the Coachella Valley? Aren't you bored at home alone?

A-L to herself: Not that bored.

A-L to Rudy: Oh, I've been here before. I'm enjoying spending time alone. Did I mention I have bird flu? (cough, cough)

Rudy turns car engine off.

Rudy: Have you been to the casinos?

A-L: I don't gamble.

Rudy: You don't have to gamble. How old are you?

A-L: Twenty-nin...uh, thirty.

Rudy: Do you drink?

A-L: I'm a recovering alcoholic.

Rudy: You look so much like your sister. I thought you were Maria, except she's smaller. You're more husky.

What????? I'm husky???? Where the hell did that come from?? First I was being invited to a seedy evening of blackjack and G & T's and now I'm HUSKY???

The Nativity

Maria: Can you get Aila a princess outfit?

A-L: Ummm, yeah.

Maria: They're having a princess parade at daycare on Thursday. I need to check with Gloria to find out exactly what Aila needs.

A-L: Ummm, ok.

Three hours later...

Maria: Turns out Aila needs a princess outfit because they don't have enough wisemen at daycare so instead they're having princesses.

A-L: That's a bit different than a princess parade.

Maria: Annais is going to be baby Jesus. So, can you also get some swaddling clothes for our little Christ child?

A-L: Can't you just wrap her in a sheet?

Maria: No, Gloria [the babysitter] wants the costumes to be shiny.

A-L: Baby Jesus didn't wear sequins. Or get visited by princesses.

Maria: Maybe Wal-Mart will have something.

Kitty's Profile

Paul e-mailed me a link to Kitty's online profile.

Talking Baby

Saturday -

Maria: Annais said her first word today.

A-L: Who's Annais?

Maria: She's the baby I had in May.

A-L: Oh yeah. What did he say?

Maria: She. She said 'da da'.

A-L: I'm not impressed. Babies, even quite young ones, can easily imitate sounds that those around them are making. How old is she?

Maria: She was born in May. May 23rd.

A-L: Not bad. But call me back when she's fluent is something more than 'da da'.

Sunday-

Irma: Hi. Annais is talking.

A-L: I know, I spoke to Maria yesterday. I heard she said 'da da'.

Irma: Oh no, this is better. I was holding her just now and she said 'ok'.

A-L: That's it? Just 'ok', not 'great' or 'super'? I guess it's pretty good for a six month old...

Monday (at work) -

A-L: The baby is talking.

Co-workers: Really?

A-L: Yeah, she said 'da da' and then on Sunday she said 'ok'.

Co-workers: How old is the baby?

A-L: She'll be seven months on the 23rd.

And then the co-workers looked at each other like I was a compulsive liar. Note to self: Don't tell anyone about talking baby niece.

Challenge

Paul: I challenge you to write a post that doesn't include the words "Kitty", "Finnish", "Finland" or "Aila".

A-L: Are you trying to destroy my blog?

Paul: No, I'm your friend. I'm trying to help you expand your reader base.

A-L: Don't throw fancy marketing speak at me. I'll get a dictionary. Which is what we should get Ted for Christmas: A Polish/English dictionary.

Paul: If you bought Ted a Polish/English dictionary for Christmas it would essentially be a gift for you.

A-L: Clever, huh? Then I could indoctrinate him in Irma's gospel of Finnish nurse's hygiene.

Paul: You can't even type three sentences without writing the word 'Finnish'.

A-L: Looks like you can't either.

Social Circles

A-L (singing): Theee fiiiirrrrsssst nnooooooeeel, thhheeee first noel

Paul: Who was telling me about someone born on Christmas day whose name is Noel? Was it you?

A-L: No, but I know someone born in December whose name is Noelle.

Paul: Who was telling me that, I mean, if it wasn't you? I don't talk to anyone else. I haven't left our living room in 33 days.

A-L: Ummm, maybe Kitty told you. Or did you read it online?

Paul: Yeah, I probably read it online.

Moving Day

Paul: Hey, A-L, when are you moving out?

A-L: What? Are you trying to get rid of me?

Paul: No, when are you leaving for California?

A-L: Oh, on the 17th. Are you renting out my room while I'm gone?

Paul: No, it would be too much of a hassle. It would take too long to explain everything. Can you imagine having to explain Ted to a new flatmate? "This is Ted. He doesn't feed the cat. He teases her, and sometimes he locks her in the bathroom, accidentally. And his room stinks." It would take weeks to explain.

A-L: Yes, I suppose that's reason enough not to rent out my room while I'm gone...

The Words Were Out of My Mouth Before I Knew It

So at Ted's party I was talking with Katie and Stuart about their niece Hannah, who turned 1 in August. Apparently she's an adorable genius. And they have proof. Hannah was at daycare, and one of the adults asked her "is your dad picking you up today?" So Hannah said something, seemingly unintelligible. And then the two-year-old standing next to her said to the lady, "no, Hannah's dad is at University today." Apparently Hannah's dad was at University that day, and this information could not have come from anyone other than Hannah, as none of the adults at the daycare knew that he had gone back to school. So, Katie and Stuart take this as proof of Hannah's genius. Fair enough. Although I think the two-year old also deserves some credit for interpreting. But I didn't mention this. I didn't want to burst their "our niece is a genius bubble." So, instead I said:

"Well, does your niece speak Spanish?"

Multi-Loyal

I know that cats have never been prized for their loyalty, but since I'm usually 'the Feeder of the cat' I am the recipient of loyal behaviour, however faux it might be.

The current situation is quite different. Kitty has deserted. Paul, who does not buy her food or change her litter tray, or pay her vet bills, is apparently her favourite. (Ironically, she is sitting in my lap, for the first time in weeks, as I type this. Cats are also manipulative.) So, Kitty has 'gone off me', as the British would say. She lets Paul hold her, and she jumps into his lap where she will happily sit for hours. If I so much as look at her, she will run from the room. Teenagers.

Christmas Cards

Paul: What's that list you're writing?

A-L: Christmas card list.

Paul: It's very long.

A-L: I have thousands of friends.

Paul: And you send all of them Christmas cards?

A-L: Unfortunately it's the only time all year that I write to most of them. So I think it's important to keep it up. And, how else am I supposed to generate Christmas cards? That's why I send them out in early December, and when I e-mail everyone to ask for their address, I give them mine.

Paul: You're going to the States on the 17th, that doesn't give people much time to get their cards to you. You'll have to get yours out soon.

A-L: I never said the cards have to arrive here before I leave for the States. In fact, I want to walk back in the door and have a stack of at least 10 waiting for me.

Paul: You're sending out 603, I think you'll get more than 10 back. And how do you decide who doesn't get a card?

A-L: That's easy. I don't send cards to people who I haven't spoken to, or had contact with (via e-mail), for a time period longer than that for which I knew and had regular contact for them. For example, I knew Stella for a year and a half, haven't spoken to or heard from her for two years, she's off the list. A very simple equation. And I don't send cards to my Jewish friends.

Paul: Don't you send them Hannukah cards? I think you should.

A-L: They don't send me Christmas cards.

Cat Flu

For the most part I have received nice messages from friends and family wishing me a speedy recovery from this flu. From my father, however, I received this e-mail: "Your mother thinks it's cat allergies."

Operation Laptop

Dear Fans, Friends and Readers,

Operation Laptop restoration is under way. Pete has sent two, yes two, e-mails giving advice on how to resucitate it. Paul is performing minor surgery as we speak, so I am using Paul's laptop. It's not the same. The genius doesn't flow.

More later,
A-L

Wine + Laptop = No Blogging

SOMEONE spilled a glass of wine on my laptop at the party last Saturday which means my blogging is limited.

Paul: Does anyone want to use my laptop?

A-L: I'd like to.

Paul: You can use it until I go to bed.

A-L: When are you going to bed?

Paul: In 15 minutes.

Oh good. Well, that's all I have time for. Good night.

Alpha Beta

Telephone conversation with 'the Irma':

Irma: Hi, I was just thinking about you so I thought I'd call. It's such nice weather outside. It's 75 degrees, and your dad left to go to Chicago for RSNA, and it's supposed to be really cold there. Huge storms this weekend. So I've just been out in the yard, and am going to relax and read the paper. You'll never guess who we saw the other day at Alpha Beta.

A-L: Alpha Beta closed in 1983. And then it became Lucky's, and then Ralphs, and now it's Albertsons, I think.

Irma: Well, you'll never guess who we saw at Alpha Beta. Never! Nancy. We saw Nancy.

A-L: I know 133 people named Nancy, none of whom have been to Alpha Beta since in closed in 1983. Which one did you see?

Irma: Nancy Meher. We stood and talked to her at the front of the store. And then we saw Marcia Larsson. Do you remember her? The tall blonde lady from church?

A-L: Was she also sucked back in time to 1983 for a quick trip to Alpha Beta to pick up a case of Tab?

Irma: You know Marcia, the tall blonde lady.

A-L: Uh huh.

Irma: And then we went around the corner to the Salvation Army thrift store because your dad wanted to buy a purse to carry some tools in. He needed something small and thought an old purse would do the trick. He ended up buying a shaving kit from Rite Aid and using that, but everything in the Salvation Army was 50% off and they even gave us a senior citizen discount on the cookie plate that I bought.

A-L: Do you get a commission for dropping store names into conversation?

Irma: Isn't that funny that we got 50% off AND a senior discount?

A-L: Yes, that's the funniest part of this entire story.

White Space Be Gone

The white space is finally gone. But so are all the customisations (yes, it's a word) that flatmate Paul helped me create. It will take a while to get this looking ok, but bear with me. (insert cartoon of cute little bear)

Fleas

Last Sunday -

A-L: I'm taking Kitty to the vet tomorrow. I don't think she knows yet.

Paul: How are you taking her there?

A-L: In my handbag. Actually, I might phone them to see if they have a cat carrier I can use.

Paul: Will you put a blanket in there so she's comfortable?

A-L: Yeah, I guess so. But the vet is a block and half away, and I don't think a blanket will make up for the fact that she's confined in a box.

After the vet appointment -

A-L: Let's return her. She has fleas. It's November, it's 3 degrees outside and the cat has fleas. I thought they only lived near the equator. I can see the Arctic Circle from my bedroom window, and my cat has fleas. Don't they die after Labor Day?

Paul: Presumably the cat's fur keeps the fleas warm.

A-L: Don't get smart with me. I didn't sign up for this deal. Now I have to medicate her, fumigate the house, and wash all the bedding.

Paul: What do you mean you didn't 'sign up for this deal.' You stole that cat.

A-L: I didn't know she had fleas. This changes everything.

Paul: Don't be so dramatic.

A-L: What's a blog without drama? You have to keep the readers coming back.

Thursday

Conversation on Tuesday evening:

Paul: What are you doing on Thursday?

A-L: I don't know. I don't have any plans. Why do you ask?

Paul: Because it's Thanksgiving.

A-L: Oh yeah.

Paul: You should have a turkey sandwich.

A-L: Why didn't I think of that?

Bird Flu

I have bird flu. Not THE bird flu, but a minor strain. Perhaps finch flu. I've been feverish and head-achey and stuffed up for three days.

Globalisation

A-L to guy in the queue: I didn't cut in front of you did I?

Guy: No, no. I wasn't in the queue.

A-L: Are you American?

Guy: No, I'm Dutch, but I grew up in New York and have spent a lot of time in London, and I have American flatmates, so I think I've picked up some of their accent.

A-L: You gotta watch out for those Americans.

Guy: I know.

Super-cool Friend of Guy: What are saying?

Guy to S-CFofG: Oh, she was just saying that I sound American, so I was saying that I must have picked it up from my flatmates.

S-CFofG to Guy: Yeah, that's globalisation for you.

A-L to herself: No, globalisation is that you're buying Doritos on Dundas Street in Edinburgh.

Overheard

Today:

"If there's one thing I hate more than amateur theatre, it's children's amateur theatre."

When Does A Party Really Begin

Martin Little posed a good question. What time does the party start? (Ted's Birthday party, that is.) If I had sent out invitations I would have said 8ish. But if you say 8ish, people show up at 10:30ish. And if you say 9ish, they'll arrive at 10:45ish. But if you want people to arrive at 9:30ish, because you're looking forward to seeing everyone, you'd have to say 7:15ish on the invitation, and then people would think dinner was involved. No sit-down dinner. Arrive when you like, the earlier the better.

Ted's Birthday

Polish flatmate Ted will be 31 on Saturday, 19th of November. Which is why this conversation took place:

A-L: What should we get Ted for his birthday?

Paul: Deodorant.

A-L: That's not very nice.

Paul: That's what he got me for my birthday.

A-L: Oh yeah, but that was sweet.

Paul: What??

A-L: Well, he had just moved in with us, he was new to the country, he was working 60 hours a week, and he wanted to buy you a present, so he got you something you could use. Now that we've turned him into a capitalist pig he'll never again give sweet, simple presents.

Paul: What did he give you for your birthday?

A-L: Nothing. Why don't we give the bastard back the deodorant he gave you.

Paul: I think it's probably enough of a gift that we're throwing him a birthday party on Saturday (to which Martin Little is invited, if you're reading this).

A-L: Let's get one thing straight: we are throwing a party, and it happens to be on Ted's birthday, but it is not a birthday party for Ted.

Paul: You've changed your tune.

A-L: Because you reminded me that he didn't get me anything for my birthday. And, it's your job to keep Ted away from the stereo on Saturday night.

Paul: Is that because he's discovered Meatloaf?

A-L: Yes, I would do anything to never hear Meatloaf again, especially at my belated birthday party.

Paul: Oh, now it's your birthday party.

A-L: Well, the 11th of December is my half birthday.

Paul: I think people stop celebrating half birthdays when they're 7.

A-L: Maybe in Britain. But there's a strong history of lavishly celebrated half birthdays in the U.S. Especially if your birthday falls at an inopportune time, such as June, when people are still recovering (emotionally and financially) from all those birthday parties the Pisceans threw themselves three months back.

Paul: You know, Ted said something to me the other day about "Dolly Parton", "party", "Saturday" and "broken". Do you have any idea what he's talking about?

A-L: I think he meant to say, "I've hidden A-L's Dolly Parton CD. Tell her it's broken."

The Other One

A-L: Paul, can you help me fix something on my blog.

Paul: Are you trying to trick me into looking at photos of your nieces?

A-L: Yes.

Paul: Fine.

A-L: Maria just sent these through.

Paul: By 'Maria' do you mean 'Mother Romero'?

A-L: Yes.

Paul: Ohmigod. Annais is huge.

A-L: She is. She's going to be very tall. Father Romero is 6'3", I think. Or is it 6'2"?

Paul: Annais doesn't look like Aila did when she was a baby, does she?

A-L: Actually, the other one looks just like Aila did when she was a baby.

Paul: Did you just refer to Annais as 'the other one'?

A-L: No. You can't prove that I did.

Paul: You've posted it to your blog.

A-L: Well, she's the second baby. It's ok to call her 'the other one'. I don't even remember when she was born. Was it this year, or last?

Paul: That's terrible. What if the other one finds out?

A-L: Well, then I'll just tell her the story of the time my mom called me by the dog's name, and then corrected herself by calling me by my dad's name, followed by 'Maria'. And my friend Inga, the youngest of three girls was known as Mhairi-Karen-Inga. Which, all things considered, is a much better name than Muffin-Peter-Maria.

Kitten Talk

A-L to Kitty: "You're a bad Kitty."

Paul to A-L: "Don't say that to her. You'll give her a complex."

A-L to Paul: "No I won't. She doesn't know what I'm saying, she just listens to my tone of voice."

Paul to A-L: "She doesn't listen to you."

A-L to Kitty: "That's why you're a baaaaaaaaaaad Kitty."

Paul to A-L: "YOU'RE a baaaaaad Kitty."

A-L to Paul: "I wonder why no one reads my blog."

German Class

So there I was, in German class about three weeks ago, when the substitute teacher asked us to introduce people in the class. So she asked Grant who he could introduce.

In German (Auf Deutsch, bitte):

Grant: "I can introduce Anna-Lisa."

Substitute Teacher: "Great. What can you reveal about her that will shock and disturb the other students?"

Grant: "Anna-Lisa is American."

A hush falls over the room.

Judith gasped: "I had no idea you were American."

Neil to Alistair: "She's American? But she looks normal."

Alistair to Neil: "No she doesn't."

Grant: "And her mother is Finnish." (And the Russians killed her mother's father and brother. And her mom wants the Russians to give her Arctic port back.)

Judith: "That's so strange Anna-Lisa, because you sound Scottish when you speak German."

Oh good.

Belated Birthday Greetings...

...going out to Tara-D, formerly 'The Elk', on her 30th, which was Sunday. Happy Birthday.

Did you know...

...that Monica Lewinsky is studying Psychology at the London School of Economics? I haven't confirmed the report.

Ornamental Kittens

A-L: Paul, I saw the cutest kitten in the entire world on my walk home. It was on the kitchen counter of a basement flat, and it was tiny and cute like a little Christmas ornament kitten, and it waved at me, I think.

Paul: What?

A-L: It was a tabby with white patches and it was so cute and tiny. Maybe I should get a playmate for Kitty.

Paul: What?

A-L: She needs a playmate. Kitty is lonely during the day. I should adopt another kitten for her.

Paul: Don't you mean 'steal' another kitten?

A-L: What?

Paul: You want to get Kitty a kitten?

A-L: Yes, this tiny kitten that I saw was so cute. It looked like a little Christmas ornament.

Paul: And then when the ornament grows up will you get it a kitten of its own?

A-L: Maybe. It will want a playmate. And something to nurture. When Mr. Kitty was about 6 months old I adopted Puppy from the humane society and Mr. Kitty thought he was Puppy's mom. He used to clean him and look out for him. It was very sweet.

Paul: It sounds like a vicious circle.

A-L: Do you mean vicious cycle?

How pathetic....

...has this blog has become? I admit, I've neglected it. It's pathetic. Bring on the hate mail. Bring it on. Michelle S., Sister Maria, Cousin Amy, Cousin-in-law Gary, I dare you! I dare you. I am now a very high-powered (by Gatorade) publishing assistant troll, and I simply don't have time to keep up this site. So, it's been neglected. I apologize. And you're probably not even reading this because it's been so long since I last wrote. Or blogged, as they blog, or say. So, here it is. I'm back. Look who's back, back again, shady's back. (Dear Peter, that is a reference to an Eminem song. He's a wrapper, not a candy.)

Portland Magazine

Read a great magazine.

I love...

...tricking you guys into looking at niece photos.

Has Anyone Booked Their Flights Yet?

All y'all better come visit Scotland while you have a free place to stay. I spoke to my dad about the relatively inexpensive flights to which I posted a link the other day, and he said, "sometimes you have to be careful when you're dealin' with some airline ticket broker. You never know what you're gettin'." Thanks, Pete "Delta Airlines" Sandstrum

In a Controversial Move...

...Paul has started calling Kitty by the new name of "Lady Morag." I do not approve, as Morag is perhaps my least favourite Scottish name.

Justice Served?

Could you, would you, help Brandon Hein?

Dear Dave Bleckmann,

How are you?

Scenic England

A couple weeks ago we had a work conference at the boss's parents' house. This is their backyard.

Kitty

The custody battle for Kitty has calmed down, for now, so Kitty is still with us at Perth Street.

Come visit

Relatively inexpensive flights to London. And then just book a flight to Edinburgh...

Active Minded Pete

Let's take a little trip back to 1988. Those were Pete's ladies'-garden-hat-wearing days. Cousin Randy on the left, Uncle Chuck on the right, Garden Lady Pete in the middle.

Awwwwwwww

Another update from Maria:

Aila said to me this morning: "Mommy... enemer ah-lisa... room... pongebob pants... I love it... that movie!" I'm not sure what the connection was, but she was thinking about you.

Thank you Maria. Yes, Aila was thinking about me and pongebob.

All best,
ah-lisa

Retired, Again

I saw a poster advertising Joan Rivers' Farewell Tour. Which confused me, because I thought we'd all said good bye to her already, twice. And then I realised it's the First Annual Farewell Tour. Oh, she's being funny. I get it.

Active Minds

A-L: "My dad called me from France the other day, for free, from his computer, using Skype, which he pronounces 'sky pee'."

Paul: "I think I'd like to meet your dad. It sounds like he has quite an active mind."

A-L: "He does. You'd like him. My dad's a nice guy. In fact, he'd like you."

Paul: "Everybody likes me. Actually, it was the oddest thing, I just met someone who didn't like me, which never happens. Where was that? Oh yes, it was up in Elgin, but she was drunk."

A-L: "Inactive mind."

Paul: "Pardon."

A-L: "She probably has an inactive mind."

Paul: "She needs sky pee."

The Axis of RSVPs

So, I am handling the RSVPs for an upcoming event, and it turned out that the only people who had not replied were the Germans, the Italians, and the Japanese. Hmmm...what are they plotting??

So I told flatmate Paul this little factoid and he replied: "I'd expect that of the Italians, but certainly not of the Germans or Japanese."

A-L: "Expect what?"

Paul: "You know, non Respondez S'il Vous Plait . Or Respondez S'il Vous Plait when I'm done with my 4-hour lunch."

A-L: "The EU needs you."

Paul: "I don't think the Japanese will be let into the EU."

A-L: "Not at this rate they won't. They can't even RSVP for a dinner."

Overheard

"I don't have time to be busy."
Anonymous.

Prayers Cont.

Please keep Dave Bleckmann in your prayers/thoughts.

Hot Luck

My friend Dave (Portland Dave) has, in the past, hosted a hot luck. Folks, don't get confused here. It's not a typo. I did not mean to write 'pot luck', I meant what I wrote, 'hot luck'. The concept: bring somethin' hot (spicy hot) to share. At the hot luck I attended Laurel brought habanero poppers (please insert squiggly line over the 'n') that were so hot (spicy hot) that after eating one your body went into survival mode.

So Dave (hot luck Portland Dave) was in a car accident near Bend, Oregon and is in ICU. Caroline (of Camden, Arkansas fame, and g/f of habanero Dave) asked me to ask you to keep Dave in your thoughts and prayers. (Non-denominational prayers will be considered on a case-by-case basis.) Dave has a punctured lung, a broken heel, and broken arm. But Caroline reports that Dave is in good spirits, and apparently "finds all this concern amusing".

Dave, Scotland is sending good thoughts and Presbyterian prayers your way.

Swimming

So I've joined the gym and started swimming.

And when I was in the pool alone the other day, and floating on my back and propelling myself forward with my arms (i.e. the opposite direction you usually swim when doing the backstroke), I realised that it was probably good that I was alone in the pool, and that no one with influence on my career advancement was present. Because when I am in a swimming pool I have the compulsion to pretend that I am a professional synchronized swimmer.

Which I am not.

Finn Twins

Cousin Minna and and Sami's twin girls exploring the beautiful Finnish countryside.

Day Care Drama

The report from Maria:

Annais got her first smack on the head with a toy from the other little baby (13 mos. old) at day care yesterday! Aila flew to her rescue scolding the little girl: "NO HIT MY BABY!!"

I couldn't be more proud.

Now Aila says "Enemer (remember)... Jordan... Lyn... Lanham... hit Eeeese... mommy?" (She can say Jordan's full name, but not Annais) with long pauses between words so that they come out exactly right.

DJ Hijinks

Sound from the hallway this morning: Hello???

A-L: Paul! Hi! You're back! How was California?

P: Great. Good. Hot and sunny.

A-L: You're tan.

P: We rented a convertible, and played gangsta rap. We kept the top down even when it was ridiculous to do so. Like when we were going 65mph on the freeway at 10 pm and it was freezing.

A-L: What was the funniest thing that happened?

P: We were at one of the Twin Peaks and met a Japanese tourist. He asked if this was the Twin Peaks, and I said 'one of them', and then he said, 'oh, there are two?'

A-L: Good one.

Meanwhile, in Japan: (translated from Japanese, of course, even the names)

Ken: Hello?? Anybody home??

Michelle: Hi! You're home! How was California?

Ken: Great. The weather was beautiful, and I finally saw Twin Peaks, but only one of them.

Michelle: What was the funniest thing that happened?

Ken: Seeing four Scottish people in a convertible Chrysler Sebring, shivering, driving 65mph, with the top down, and listening to gangsta rap.

Michelle: Good one.

Dear ________,

Dear Maria:

Thank you for responding to Caroline's enquiry (inquiry) into Finnish nationalism. (Those readers who don't check the comments section will have missed this development.)

In answer to your question: "Is Paul back yet??", the answer is no. No he's not, Maria. And I'm not sure when he returns. Maybe this Sunday.

Dear Paul (flatmate Paul):

My sister wants to know when you're coming home?

Dear Paul (Portland Paul) and Gemma:

Thank you for sharing my enthusiasm for the German language.

Overheard

"He thinks he's nicer than I think he is."
My friend on a tricky relationship.

"We can hear your laugh, two rooms over."
My colleagues, to me.

"We had 'the kitten talk'."
Stu breaks the news to me that the kitten's father might repossess Kitty.

"But Kitty thinks I'm her mother."
Crazy cat lady rationalizing her desire to keep someone else's kitten.

KITTENGATE, Part 1

Stockpiling
Today at the grocery store I bought a big box of dry food and a six-pack of cat food. I figure I can claim kustody (see what I did there, with the klever use of 'k'??) until the food is finished.

Kitten Kustody

The kitten's father is returning tonight from China, and the battle will begin. Will I return Kitty to her rightful owner, or will her rightful owner sense the bond that has developed and let the sleeping kitten lie, with me?

Stay tuned for the events surrounding KITTENGATE.

Mid-Week German Mania

Last night was the first class of a 10-week German course. Nine of us in the class. (9, not nein.) So far so good. I have the worst vocabulary but I have a plan. (insert evil laugh.) I was the only person who didn't know how to say 'region' or 'election' or 'vote' or . . .

My evil plan: pick their brains for German vocabulary.

Grand(e) Plans

Paul: Hello?

A-L: Hi Paul, I need to talk.

Paul: What's up?

A-L: I'm not happy with the way my blog looks.

Paul: Anna-Lisa, I'm in California. Can this wait until I get home?

A-L: Quit being selfish. I have readers to please.

Paul: By 'readers' do you mean your sister, your 33 cousins and the two Judys?

A-L: There's a global network of readers who fly low, you know, below the radar.

Paul: It's 3 a.m., somewhere in the world, I'm in California, and I have to be up early tomorrow for Gregor's wedding.

A-L: You don't have to look rested, the bride does. I hope you're not wearing white. We don't do that in the States. We're very traditional, you know. We're the colonialists.

Paul: Don't trick me into talking about Imperialism so you'll have something to post on your blog. And you're not colonialists, you're the colonies. WE were the colonialists.

A-L: Actually, we're now known as 'the Former Colonies.' And imperialism shouldn't be capitalised.

Paul: What would the Founding Fathers do if they knew you were spelling capitalised with an 's' instead of a 'z'?

A-L: I don't know, what, roll over in their gravez?

Paul: What do you want from me?

A-L: When you get home, can you please fix my blog so that there's not that super-huge white space between the title and post? I think it's aesthetically displeasing to the discerning reader's sense of design. Hello? Paul?

Talent

If I ever meet George Clooney I'll tell him, "I loved your work in The Facts of Life." (Scroll down to the see photo of George with Mrs. Garrett and the girls.)

Kitten-tastic, Part II

How kitten-tastic is this site? Do not visit this site if you don't think kittens are cute, and you're evil. I confess that I ridiculously rated each kitten as a 10, because I didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings.

Besides Googling the word 'kitten', I'm watching a BBC programme on a hobbit brain that was found on some south Pacific island. And one of the researchers speaking was introduced as 'a leading expert in hobbit brains. And then I came upon a site for rating the kitten-tastic-ness of, well, kittens.

Avocados

I'd like to talk about avocados, because there's nothing worse than a bad one, and nothing better than a good one. My friend Kyle once said he would marry for guacamole. I'll dip to that.

Two Years in Scotland

Dear Millions of Readers, and what I mean by that is "Dear Maria, Judy and Maria's friends from work...",

Two years ago I sailed for the Old World from that majestic Los Angeles harbour that baggage handlers call LAX. And lax it is. Because in L.A. you can wear sweat pants to court, even if you're the prosecuting attorney. But I won't bore you with one of those silly lists, like "10 things I've Learned Since Leaving the U.S. for the U.K.", because they're silly.

Aila was 14 days old when I left. And now she's a political activist. Maria, stop raising over-achievers.

Race relations

I spoke to Aila on the phone yesterday. Here's how it went:

A-L: Hi Aila, how are you?

Aila: Hi. Good. I'm colouring.

A-L: What are you colouring?

Aila: Dora.

And then for some reason I asked her: What colour are you colouring Dora?

Aila: Well, Anna-Lisa, I'm colouring her brown, but that doesn't mean she's not an American citizen. And contrary to popular ignorance, all 'brown' Spanish-speaking Americans are not Mexican. They might be Cuban, or Honduran, or Salvadorean, or Nicaraguan, or Guatamalan, or from (and she said this in the voice of the guy who announces the Miss Universe pageant contestants) Puerto Rico.

A-L: Light brown or dark brown?

Aila: I'm colouring Dora medium brown.

A-L: Is Dora from Puerrrrrrrrtttttttto Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiicccoooo?

Aila: I have no idea. By the way, the new mayor of L.A. is Latino. I signed up to work on his campaign, but my mom wouldn't let me drive to L.A. alone.

A-L: You say he's Latino. Don't you mean Mexican?

Aila: He's American, but I'm not sure where his parents are from. He's brown, if that's what you're asking.

A-L: Yeah. So, do you think you'll be able to get some cool college scholarships because you're so frickin' cute . . . I mean, because you're half-brown and half-Finnish.

Aila: I'm actually not half-Finnish. My mom is half-Finnish, so I'm just a quarter Finnish. But I am half-Mexican, one-sixteenth Swedish, a quarter Finnish and the rest is Mid-western, I think.

A-L: Do you know what you want to major in?

Aila: Look, I'm 24 months old, I have a Dora picture to colour, and you've already taken up too much of my Sunday. Do you want to talk to my mom?

A-L: Yeah.

Maria: Hi. What did you and Aila talk about?

A-L: Oh, all I heard was 'Dora' and 'colouring' and 'baby'.

Maria: Aila is talking more and more every day.

You're tellin' me.

Kitten-tastic

Seven weeks ago or so, Su went to China, and left me in charge of his kitten, whose name I didn't like, so I've renamed her "Kitty". You might recall that I've had a rabbit named Bunny, and cats named Puppy and Mr. Kitty. So this time, I got creative.

Kitty's been a terrific house guest. She's only peed on the duvet once.

We have a Kitty Rota on the wall in the kitchen so that with three busy people coming and going, we can keep track of who forgot to feed her. The writing, as they say, is on the wall.

Paul said today, "I don't think I'm a cat person." Which made me think of the trouble it would cause if he were half-cat, half-human.

Fond Memories

This evening I remembered that in sixth grade, when our teacher Mrs. Biesendorfer read Where the Red Fern Grows to us, she cried. That's such a great book. Every sixth grade teacher should spend 15 minutes after lunch reading that book to his or her students. And then I was trying to think of the name of the author, and the name Lou Rawls came to mind first. But it's not, it's Wilson Rawls. Thank goodness for the internet, and fact-checking abilities.

English lessons

Ted's English is coming along well. Tonight's lesson was in long and short vowel sounds, as changed by the 'e' at the end of a word. And then I threw in a lesson about the difference between 'finish', 'finished' and 'Finnish'. Just because I'm the self-appointed teacher and I could.

White Lies

So flatmate Paul was at a wedding last weekend and sat at the same table as an elderly woman and her daughter-in-law, among others. Although Paul is of the opinion that it is the responsibility of older people to begin conversations, he began speaking to the old lady.

Paul: Are you from Elgin?

Old Lady: No, I'm from Lossiemouth. Are you from Elgin?

Paul: Yes.

O.L.: Oh, did you go to school there?

Paul: Yes, I went to Elgin Academy.

O.L.: Oh did you? I taught at Elgin Academy.

Paul: Really? Well, I went there about 15 years ago. What did you teach?

O.L.: A little bit of everything.

Paul: Really?

Daughter-in-law interrupts: No, you didn't teach at Elgin Academy. You worked at the Hydro Board.

Paul to O.L., trying to keep a straight face: Oh, did you like working at the Hydro Board.

O.L.: Yes, I did.

Long lost roommates

Is roommates one word? Because it looks odd. Maybe I'll throw in an ise and then I'll feel better. Because those Brits don't like our z. But the joke's on them. Because the ize is actually more correct in the sense that it's older. And we all know older is better.

Anyway, if you're a real fan of this blog that means you read the comments, so you'll know that my roommate from Freshman year in college has gotten in touch. When I knew her she was Tara Elkins, from McMinville, Oregon. Kind, smart and outgoing. Boy was she outgoing. I remember riding the elevator up to the 7th floor where our dorm room was, and by the 5th, Tara had met seven people. So, she's switched identities and now is Mrs. Tara Darrow, and she does PR for the pilots of the world, or some such thing. And I googled her and found out she's damn good at her job because she won some award. But I could have told you that anyway, because she's meticulous, and organised, and fun.

Tara and her brother and sister have started an organisation called Answer to Cancer in memory of their brother Adrian who died of liver cancer. So if you feel like donating money to a worthy cause, I nominate this one.

fine

I'll entertain you...

Breakin'

The other evening I remembered that my sister's 7th grade "boyfriend", Pat, broke his leg bike riding, which put the kabash on his break dancin'.

Elusiveness

Conversation overheard at the bank yesterday:

uncharacteristically friendly bank Teller: "Ok, here are your euros."

uncharacteristically (even for Britain) unfriendly Customer: "Thank you."

Teller: "Are you going on holiday?"

Customer: "Yes."

Teller: "Oh, great. Where are you going?"

Customer: "Europe."

Our Little Capitalist Piglet

Paul and I are raising Ted (the Polish flatmate) to be a capitalist pig. Not that the Poles aren't capitalists, but they're just not the capitalist pigs they could be. Now, I know some political correspondent - there must be one among my thousands of readers - will comment on the distinction between capitalism and consumerism, so I won't bother. I'll just change my mind now. Paul and I are raising Ted to be a consumer. A piggish one. When he first arrived in our home, he was happy with very little. Then he discovered catalogues. He's bought jeans and shoes and t-shirts and a really fancy camera-phone, and a stereo thats REALLY LOUD and he his currently shopping around for sunglasses and a baseball cap.

So today, as I had the day off, I decided to take Ted to ASDA. It's a subsidiary of Wal-Mart. Need I say more. He loved it. I took him 20 minutes to get past the first aisle. Now the nearest ASDA is two buses and about 25 minutes away. But that will not deter Ted.

Ted: "ASDA very good."

A-L: "I knew you would like it," she cackled.

Ted: "I no know what ASDA is. What is this ASDA? You no say it very big store. I only bring £10. You say we going to big store I bring more money."

A-L: "Oh, I wanted it to be a surprise."

Ted: "OK. It's ok, now I know bus number 44 and 4 come to ASDA."

Uh oh.

And I saw something verrrrrrrrrry suspicious today at ASDA. Jeans for £3. (Which is $5.50.) Hmmmm. Where are these being made? Hmmmmmm. Good thing we have another convert.

Aila turns 2

Oh my. Aila will be two years old tomorrow, September 3rd. Happy Birthday Aila.

Happy Lutheranism

Look at our new little Lutheran, who was baptised last Sunday. And in my baptism dress. And the best part about being the "second" baby is that the story everyone will remember from your babtism is that the pastor said "shut up Jesus" in the sermon, several times. Bless.

A Southern Polish Twang

Evenings at Perth Street are filled with English lessons and elocution lessons and conversational English classes. And along the way, Ted has picked up a bit of an American accent, I'm proud to say. You should hear him say 'thanks'.

Although it has been quite a challenge teaching him the 'th' sound. Apparently it doesn't live in Poland.

And then I spoke to my sister who gave me a run-down on the baptism weekend extravaganza featuring family and friends. Apparently during the baptism service, the Pastor gave a sermon that featured the phrase "shut up Jesus". My sister said Aila's eyes got huge and she turned to my sister and said, "unkind words." Maria says she has a feeling that when she picks Aila up from daycare today, there will be a report of the phrase "shut up Jesus" having been slipped into casual daycare conversation.

Homesickness

Yesterday I spoke to the family who are gathered at my sister's house for the baptism of Annais. I spoke to my uncle and aunt, and cousin-in-law Gary and cousin Tina and cousin's daughter Holly and my sister and my mom and my dad. All in 25 minutes. And this is what they told me:

"It's too hot here." Kalevi (uncle)

"Aila says 'mine'." Ritva (aunt)

"How is your English?" Cousin-in-law Gary (master grammarian / expert board-game-player)

"I slept on an air mattress in Aila's room." Holly (age 8)

"Yesterday we went to go get two Honeybaked hams." Irma (age 65)

"I miss you." Super-kind cousin Tina

"Do you want to come home to go to Aunt Winona's 90th birthday party?" Peter (65,000,000 frequent flier miles, and counting / the-man-who-thinks-its-reasonable-to-fly-someone-from-Scotland-to-attend-a-champagne-brunch-in-Northern-California)

"Tomorrow the Finns and the Mexicans will be here." Maria (mother of two nordic aztecs)

So talking to them made me homesick. So today I'm listening to Willy Nelson. And dammit, I feel better.

English Society

Ted's English has come on in leaps and bounds since his accident, as he's been off work and has been surrounded by English speakers all day. We have had a whole lotta guests lately at 12 Perth Street, so Ted has had mucho English practice. Irish-Belgian Gemma was here, and then Norette and Robbie and Dougie were in town from Dingwall, followed by Callum this past Friday, and Paul G. from Elgin last night. Maybe I should turn this into a society page, where I can track the goings-on of the up-and-coming. Although I wouldn't want to be friends with people who market themselves as 'up-and-coming.'

So imagine that right here is a photo of Gemma arriving in Edinburgh, with a caption about EU correspondents, or erstwhile publishing students, or some such nonesense.

And here is a photo of Norette and Robbie and Dougie, sipping wine at our flat with a caption about Robbie's success in the music industry, and a plug for his gig.

And then Callum would need no caption, because EVERYBODY knows who he is.

And then Paul Gibson could be featured standing at a jaunty angle next to his beautiful photographs.

And that's the latest from Edinburgh.

Gray/Grey

I'm going grey. And by 'grey' I mean I have one grey hair that has reared its ugly folicle. It's curly. And by 'grey', I actually mean 'white'. My dad went 'grey and bald at 19', so things could be worse for me.

Le Update

Site neglected due to the fact that I am at the computer all day at work and then when I get home I really don't want to sit down at the computer, even if it is to type super funny stuff to keep my readers and fans happy.

But I will try.

Quote for the day:

"I talk to myself and I always agree with me."

Who said it?

A. My dad (Pete Sandstrum)
B. A geek who was giving us a software demo
C. Me

Hint: If you guessed A or C you are incorrect.

A Mother's Love

8:42 this morning, telephone rings.

A-L: "hello"

Mrs Rollo: "Oh, good morning, this is Ruth, Paul's mother, how are you?"

A-L: "I am well, thank you. You'll never believe it, but Paul is up! Would you like to speak to him?"

Mrs R: "Oh good. He's up then. What time is his exam?" (Criminal Law exam)

A-L: "I believe it's at 9:30. Would you like to speak to him?"

Mrs R: "No, no, I just phoned to say 'Good Luck'."

A-L: "Oh, that's sweet. I'll pass on the message."

-----

In the kitchen:

A-L: "Your mother is so sweet, she phoned just to say good luck on your exam."

Paul: "No she didn't, she phoned to make sure I was awake."

A-L: "Did you ask her to?"

Paul: "No, in fact, she was asked NOT to phone."

Quotable

"Well, you didn't tell me it was a tabby!"
Gemma (friend from Brussels), upon seeing the kitten that will be staying with us for 5 weeks

"You have to eat it with a knife and fork."
The lady at the cafe in answer to my question about what some vegetable covered bread thing was.

Missing Pole

So much to report.

The headline of course is that last week our Pole (Ted) didn't come home for two nights in a row. One night, not so odd. Two nights, very odd. So on Thursday morning I phoned his work to make sure he had been showing up. Here's how the conversation went:

9:45 a.m.

Erika: "Hello Zizzi, Erika speaking, how can I help you?"

A-L: "Hi. I have kind of an odd question. My 30-year-old flatmate, Ted, hasn't been home in two days and I just wanted to make sure he's been at work. Because his mother is in Poland, so I'm pretending to be his mother."

Erika: "Oh, actually, he fell at work two days ago and he's in the hospital. Is there anything else I can help you with? Do you want to know our lunch special?"

A-L: "umm, what? He fell? He's in the hospital? Does his wife know? Is he badly hurt? Is he ok? What hospital is he in?"

Erika: "I don't know. Sorry, that's all the information I have. Our special is spinach and chicken pizza. Would you like to book a table?"

A-L: "You don't know what hospital he's in?? Who does know? Where can I find out??"

Erika: "One of the Polish chefs might know. Can you call back at 10?"

A-L: "I suppose."

----------
At 10 I phoned back.

Erika: "Hello Zizzi, this is Erika speaking, how can I help you?"

A-L: "Hi, this is Ted's flatmate again. Do you have any more information?"

Erika: "Yes, apparently he had an operation yesterday."

A-L: "Where? What operation?"

Erika: "I'm sorry, that's all the information I have. We have lovely views from our restaurant of the water."

A-L: "WELL WHO DOES KNOW WHAT HOSPITAL HE'S IN? CAN I HAVE THE NUMBER TO YOUR HEAD OFFICE?"

Erika: "I'll speak to our operations manager and phone you back."

Turns out Ted fell down the staircase at Zizzi while carrying plates, and his arm landed on the broken crockery, which severed something blood-filled in his arm. So he had an operation on Wednesday, and didn't come home because he couldn't remember our phone number, and it was too far to walk. Bless.

He's home now, recovering. And doing well. In fact, he went to the hospital this morning to have the stitches removed.

Overheard

Last week someone at work described a book as being covered in (or with) "the patina of academia." I wrote it down. And I just Googled that phrase, and got 61 hits. For heaven's sake, who are these rhetoricians? (Incidentally, "rhetoricians" when Googled returns 62,200 hits.)

Edinburgh Festival Explained

Yes, as you may know, Edinburgh is sometimes called the Festival City. Why, you ask, well because this city plays host to:

The Edinburgh Jazz and Blues Festival
The Edinburgh International Festival
The Fringe Festival
The Edinburgh International Book Festival
and the
The Edinburgh International Film Festival

. . . all during the month of August. So why aren't you in Edinburgh, Judy??

Update

1. Last week I went to London and back in one day for a meeting and made it back safely.
2. The boyfriend and I are kitten sitting for seven weeks while the cat's mother and father are in China. Stuart is definitely in love. With the kitten.
3. Edinburgh Festival has begun. The best place to enjoy the Edinburgh Festival is in Edinburgh.
4. Niece Aila has added the word "never" to her vocabulary, and is reported to have responded to Grandpa's request for her to get a book for him to read to her with, "no, never."
5. Maria has promised that every time her girls say "I'm bored", she'll tell them "go sweep the patio."
6. No, never.
7. Irish-Belgian-erstwhile-publishing-student-current-EU-affairs-reporter Gemma will arrive in Edinburgh next Friday, I believe, for Festival fun and excitement.
8. Norette to follow.
9. Norette.
10. Why haven't you visited Edinburgh? Book tickets now to avoid disappointment.

Letter from Paul, to the Corinthians, I mean Edinburgians

An excerpt from the e-mail I received from flatmate Paul today:

hey A-L

i had very peculiar dreams last night including one in which you got electrocuted (but were ultimately OK you'll be glad to know) and another in which Stu sent me an email saying we couldn't be friends anymore.

Busyness

Dear Readers, Fans, and Friends,

I have been tres busy as of late and have much neglected this site. But your outpouring of support has inspired me to post this update:

I am busy.

The end.

More later.

File Systems

If you were filing something for Ice-T, the rap musician, would you file it under "T, Ice" or "Ice T"?

Today I saw him filed as "T, Ice".

Censor

My mom's sister, Ritva, reads this blog, which totally affects the content posted on this site. For example, I have a friend, Paul, who lives in Portland and is hilarious, but I can't post links to his two blogs on here because his blogs are blasphemous, and I wouldn't want Ritva tati, who is also my sister's godmother, to know that I associate with someone who calls himself the Mormon Pope, and has a web site dedicated to tasteless cartoons. And I also can't mention that my sister, who baptized the *first* baby Catholic, and is baptizing the *second* baby Lutheran, jokingly promised the Mormon Pope that if she has a *third* baby, she will baptize it Mormon, in his honor.

Whistle-Stop Tour

So Paul was in town last night for, like, a couple hours. He drove down from Elgin to pick up Gerry and Judy at the airport, Prestwick Airport, the airport of false economy.

Anna-Lisa: "You know, flights into Prestwick are alwaaaaaaaaays cheaper."

Paul: "Yes."

Anna-Lisa: "You know why?"

Paul: "Because they're into Prestwick."

Anna-Lisa: "Where's Prestwick?"

Paul: "Exactly. That's the point."

Anna-Lisa: "Indeed, false economy."

Paul: "And Judy said I promised to pick them up at the airport. Although I don't remember saying that."

Anna-Lisa: "Where are they flying in from?"

Paul: "Rome. They were at the wedding of Gerry's friend."

Anna-Lisa: "Is he Romanian?"

Paul: "Yes."

Edinburgh Update

Dear Paul,

As per your e-mail of some hours ago, I shall indeed give you an update of all things recent in Edinburgh.

Last week, as you may have heard, there was a bomb scare on the number 12 bus, and Princes Street was shut down. It was Thursday, so all the shoppers had their Thursday-evening shopping interrupted. Stu, Stu, Katie and I whiled away the evening hours in a pub. We felt safe. We were underground and in a bunker-like compartment. Eva Braun was there. Just kidding.

Ted, our Pole, ate your ice cream and thought it was mine so he bought me a replacement ice cream, which is really yours, which I have been eating.

On Saturday Stu and I took the Pole for a walk. We visited the swan pond, and then headed for the Royal Botanic Gardens, again, and then Ted said, "I feel 20."

Work is going very well. I live in a room at work with 5 others, and they are kind and good.

The frickin' Lothian Bus drivers decided to strike today, which left many, many morning commuters mourning the fact that they had forsaken the last First Bus that passed, including me. I was never so happy to see a First Bus.

And no Edinburgh report would be complete without wondering where the heck that Martin Little has gone? Where are you, Martin Little?

I am expecting an update on Elgin.

My Neighbor, Sort of

So John Knox apparently lives across the street from where I work. Well, lived, I suppose, but I'm not one for splitting hares. The John Knox House is literally, a stone's throw away. But I'm not about to go throwing anything at the home of the "Scotch Protestant leader", being a Protestant myself. And I often get a hearty chuckle out of folks when I pronounce it as "protest"ant, as it should be. Why is that funny? That's what we are (the Protestant "we", not the royal "we".) Which brings me to Princess Anne's horrible grammar. Excuse me, I mean "the Princess Royal's" atrocious grammar. She was on the telly last week congratulating the city of London on being awarded the 2012 Olympic Games, and she said something to this effect: "the team have worked hard for this", or something like that. Basically, the Princess used the word "team" in concert with a plural verb. Actually, I think she said "the team are." I flipped! So my dear flatmate, Paul, who I haven't seen since that very evening, was appalled that I, a peasant from the colonies, dare to question the grammar one of the Royals. I was so astounded I almost called my sister right then and there, and risk waking up two under two, just so that Maria could calmly explain that "team" is singular. Unfortunately I don't have Princess Anne's mobile number, so having grammar-Maria "on the horn" would not have done much good. So I decided to do the diplomatic thing and say that is must just be a difference between British and American English, and headed to bed, to pray that Mrs. Bettencourt, my high school English teacher, will know that I am forever grateful that she taught this peasant from the colonies that team ain't no plural word. And then I cried myself to sleep. And the next day, one of the very talented editors at work confirmed the singularity of the word "team", and I rejoiced that all of the money my parents spent on my Catholic education was not in vain. Oh, back to the Protestants, my sister had her *first* baby baptized Catholic, and the *second* baby is going to be a Lutheran, a "Protest"ant. I can't wait til the little one is nailing theses on the older one's door. Now that would make a fabulous interdenominational Christmas card.

The Sequel

So when we were at the wedding in Ireland, Stuart's granda casually mentioned that the week before he had been to four funerals, which led to talk of a sequel to that silly movie with Hugh Grant, but maybe one aimed at the "silver" generation: Four Funerals and A Wedding.

Chicken Portraiture

My friend John takes a mean chicken portrait. Non? Above are Scout and Scratch, his chicken-son and chicken-daughter. (You might recognise them from his blog: My Life With Chickens. (Note: not MY life, but HIS life, but "His Life With Chickens" was taken.)

Forget law school, and the summer work at the Attorney General's office, you have a future in farm animal portraiture. A big future. Attorney General, Shmattorney General.

Book of Scottish Poems

Every Scottish, and Scots language-loving, person should own this funny book of poems: Blethertoun Braes.

Sorrento Cheese Italian Festival of Buffalo

I think I know where my friend Craig B. will be July 14 - 17 . . . am I right, or am I a Buffalo Italian??

Texans in Edinburgh

This morning there were Texans on the bus. The first one to board was a man, who asked the bus driver - in a voice 16 times louder than anyone over here as EVER spoken - for a "DAY PASS." It's called a Day Saver. Duh.

So these two 60ish couples sat behind me, and talked of pressed ham and cheese sandwiches. Why "pressed" ham? Because the guy almost leaned back in his backpack against the sandwiches.

So I turned to the lady behind me and asked where they were from.

"Texas, in the United States."

And her husband had the most fantastic Texas drawl, and he spoke without moving his mouth.

Where in Texas?

"Deep in the heart of Texas. Brownwood."

"Too close to George Bush," added his wife.

And then the man said that their plan for the day was, "to get on the train and get off somewhere."

And then Stuart gave them the name of a town they MUST visit. And we exited, leaving the Texans, and a bus full of stunned Edinburghers who COULD NOT believe that people were actually talking to each other, out loud. And without moving their mouths.

My Sister On Artificial Sweeteners

Maria: "Have you heard of that new fake sweetener, Splenda?"

Anna-Lisa: "Yeah, I have. Fake sugar is gross."

Maria: "Sooo gross. I had a piece of cake made with Splenda, and it totally tasted weird."

Anna-Lisa: "Gross."

Maria: "Yeah, after I ate the cake I had a really weird taste in my mouth, and then I burped and it tasted like chlorine."

Anna-Lisa: "Totally gross."

Maria: "Totally. So I asked Tina (cousin Tina who is also a Registered Dietician) what Splenda is. And she said that they (read: the evil scientists of the world) took a sugar molecule and removed something and added three chlorine atoms."

Anna-Lisa: "Gross."

Maria: "Totally gross."

Turns out Cousin Tina was right: read more. Gross.

Dora and Aila

It's been more than 3 days since I posted photos of Aila, so here she is. And her little friend Dora the Explorer with her monkey companion Boots.

My Sister on World Politics

Maria: "Have you been to Estonia?"

A-L: "No, have you?"

Maria: "Yes, it's beautiful. It looks like Finland except f***** up by the Russians."

There you have it folks, my sister on communism.

Anna-Lisas of the World

Believe it or not, there are other Anna-Lisas. It takes a while to comprehend. There are people trading on my good name.

Shall we meet them?

There's a lady in Sweden who calls herself by my name. She sounds boring. And another one posing as me, although not very convincingly, in Syndney. And a really fun looking Anna-Lisa, also in Sweden.

Well, now that you've met all of us, the tour is over.

The Pauls' Holidays

So one Paul went to Brussels, and the other Paul reported this from a recent holiday adventure:

And beyond that, the Godhead IIskimmed the outer borders of the Scientology System, a bright and horrible place with gravity which targets money and sucks it down its white-toothed maw, where it's channeled into the heart of Hubbard VII, a crimson gas giant, alive with operating thetans who use the money to purchase materiel [sic] for the long-waged Psychiatry Wars.

Thanks for those reports, Pauls.

Good Food

There's an "inter-denominational" church across the street from my new place of employment that runs a cafe. Not a soup kitchen, although they do serve soup. Today I had a salami, pesto, sun dried tomato sandwich and dutch apple cake. More breaking news later.

Spike Lee

Spike Lee's telephone number is in my Microsoft Outlook contacts file at my new job. Haven't had reason to phone him, yet. And if I ever do, I can't tell you about it because that's confidential information. So mind your own business.

Finnish Food

Jacques Chirac is sooooo totally not invited to the next Finnish Festival.

Funny Things That Happened in Ireland (cont.)

4. When the 9-year-old boy whose parents run Barnabrow Country House, where we stayed told us: "I get free drinks."

Oh the perks.

Funny Things That Happened in Ireland

3. Catherine (the bride) made envelopes for all the people she had to pay at the wedding (the band, the church, the singer) and there was one that said "Piper". Yes, you must pay him.

RSVP

Anna-Lisa: "Ted, tomorrow I am going to Ireland." And then I said it with a Polish accent: "Irlandia"

Ted: "Irlandia? Tomorrow?"

A-L: "Stuart's brother is getting married. We are going to his wedding." And then I marched across the kitchen humming "The Wedding March".

Ted: "Stuart's brother? Finlandia?"

A-L: "Yes, but no. Yes, Stuart's brother, Andrew, but not Finlandia, Irlandia", which now I've decided is the name of a country.

Ted: "How many people?"

A-L: "I think about 150."

Ted: "Big wedding. My wedding, 180."

A-L: "118?"

Ted: "No, 180. We say to 210 people, but 30 say 'no thank you'."

There you have it, folks, the most polite RSVP: 'no thank you', and it must be said in a Polish accent.

Migraine Relief

Stuart had his hand over his eye.

Anna-Lisa: "Do you have a headache?"

Stuart: "No."

A-L: "Do you want one?"

Stuart: "No, but I'd take yours for a while to give you a break, if I could."

And on his birthday he said this. And meant it. What a nice person. Happy Birthday.

Auster-Doyle Syndrome

So the second time that Gemma, of EU political writing fame, e-mailed friends a photo of herself with a famous author, Paul thought there might be something, well, medically awry with her. We briefly discussed the fact that Gemma had forwarded us photos of herself with Paul Auster and Roddy Doyle. Who would be next?

Paul: "Maybe it's like a syndrome, some bizarre illness whereby you function normally in all other aspects of your daily life, but then you are compelled to attend book signings and author talks, have someone photograph you with the author and then boast of the encounter to others. Auster-Doyle Syndrome, maybe."

I've never laughed so hard in my life.

Anna-Lisa: "Yes, it's very sinister indeed. And Paul Auster looked spooky. But I don't know the Doyle man. Do you think there are other Auster-Doyle sufferers 'on the circuit', if you will?"

Paul: "I will. And yes, perhaps thousands. But they each target authors from different genres."

Anna-Lisa: "What's a 'genre'?"

Paul: "It's French for 'province'."

Anna-Lisa: "Do you think Auster-Doyle Syndrome is hereditary?"

Paul: "No. Quit asking stupid questions."

Anna-Lisa: "I don't think we should tell Gemma that we've diagnosed her. I think her feelings will be hurt. And then we can't study her behaviour undetected."

Paul: "But I've never seen you laugh that hard. You can't take the high road now and pretend you weren't a part of this."

Anna-Lisa: "Yes I can, I'm passive aggressive. I was diagnosed by my friend Greg Swartz. He confronted me one day and said, 'Anna-Lisa, you're passive aggressive', to which I replied, 'that's a very passive aggressive tactic, to publicly diagnose another as passive aggressive.' And you are too, Paul. Extremely passive aggressive. I heard Callum diagnose you. I would add to that a Messiah Complex."

Paul: "That's totally incorrect. A Messiah Complex is when someone wants to find a messiah. What you're thinking of is Auto-Messiah Complex, that's when someone thinks that they are the messiah."

Anna-Lisa: "Cite your source."

Paul: "Jesus told me. He works with my dad."

Anna-Lisa: "Cool. Can you ask your dad to ask Jesus where I left my silver earring, please?"

Paul Maria Gemma Hannah

Aila's First Job

It looks like she's ready to go to work at Hot Dog On a Stick.

Niece-O-Rama, Part IX

Let me tell you what happens when you're Annais Katarina, Baby #2: a. Your parents don't take the camera into the delivery room, so there are no photos of your first moments of life, and b. when the baby gifts start rolling in, they put them on Aila. (see super niece sequence at left: Aila in outfit sized 0-3 mos!)

Peter & the Mexicans

Peter is a kid magnet. They are drawn to sit on his lap, and then they close their eyes, in adoration. The Mexican on the right is dear Aila, and on the left is her cousin Aaron (Hector's sister's son). The white man in the middle is Peter. Sometimes called Paappa.

White Space

I don't know how to rid my blog of the silly space between the title and the photo collage of the fabulously chubby and sweet Annais, so you'll just have to bear with it. White space is the new 20. I meant to do it. And that pesky Paul Rollo who might be able to help me delete aforementioned space is gallavanting around Elgin. So Annais will just have to hover in cyberwhitespace for now. Ain't she darlin'? More Warhol-type super-uber art to follow. It's raining, so what else can I do here in Edinburgh?

New job starts Tuesday, July 5th. Fabulous new job. In publishing. In Edinburgh. More to follow.

(White space appears to have disappeared. Please disregard. Note: Paul still pesky, even in absence.)

Quintuplets (oops, I mean Quadruplets)

Annais Katarina x 4

Dora the Explorer

So Aila (the *first* niece) has a special place in her heart for all things Dora the Explorer. She watches the show at daycare, and has two Dora books, a small Dora doll (who she looks for by calling out "Dora, Dora"), Dora slippers, and one of Aila's first words was "packpack", her version of "Backpack", a character from the show.

A couple weeks ago, Aila went to a birthday party for a friend from daycare. A Dora-themed party, no less, and Aila got to take home one of the centre pieces, a Dora the Explorer piggy bank, about a foot tall. So Aila was proudly carrying Dora around the house and Maria was trying to explain that "you can put money in it", which perplexed Aila.

A few minutes later Maria hears the sound of cheap ceramic hitting linoleum, and Aila walks out of the bathroom holding Dora's head.

Now I'm not so sure why I decided to tell this story... oh yeah, because I liked my line.

So a few days later, when we had developed photos and there was one of Aila proudly holding Dora (pre-decapitation), Maria tells Hector about the incident and how Aila walked into the room holding Dora's head, "which had a totally Jagged Edge." And then, for attention, I said that Glenn Close could play Dora the Explorer. And they totally ignored me.

Herr Pope

My very funny friend (funny ‘ha ha’, not funny ‘peculiar’) told me that her very funny (‘ha ha’) father calls the *new* Pope ‘the German Shepherd’. (They’re Catholic, so they can make jokes about the German Shepherd.) So I told this to my mom, who likes a little word play, and very uncharacteristically she seemed to miss the pun (and the fun) when she replied, ‘yes, he does kind of look like a German Shepherd.’ And then she added, ‘the Pope, not her dad.’ Thanks Irma for playing along.

30

Since I'm in L.A., last week I had lunch with Drew (Barrymore), Angelina (Jolie) and Nikki (Taylor). We talked about work, and the pressures of fame, and turning 30. Can you believe we're 30? Nikki wanted to invite Tiger (Woods), also 30, but Drew and Angie were totally against it. I haven't seen him in ages, so I was up for it, but . . . whatever.

So, yeah, it was a nice lunch. Your 30th birthday is kinda like New Year's Eve, because it makes you look back on the past. I did at least. Angie confessed she slept through her 30th because she was on her way to Cambodia to buy another son, or clear some landmines, or something. So she didn't use the day to examine the past 30 years. But I did. I now remember events that happened 25, 26, and even 27 years ago. And it hit me that when my *new* niece is 30, I'll be 60. Hmmm.

So on my birthday I went to see friends Hannah and J.D. at their new house in Venice. Beforehand I stopped at the store to buy a bottle of wine. The cashier looked at me, hesitated, and then unhesitated and said, "I was gonna ask for your I.D., but you look 30." I wish she had re-hesitated. And then Hannah's friend came over for dinner and said "I'll be 30 in September." And before I could say another word, she said, "I know, I don't look 30!" And I do???

And three days later I found a gray hair.

Annual FREE Credit Report

Did you know that we (the American readers) are entitled to one free credit report a year? I didn't. You can get yours at www.AnnualCreditReport.com.

Hospitality

I've read that "Hospitality is the art of making someone feel at home when you wish they really were."

I think Aila wished we were all "at home" when the *new* baby, and me, and numerous cousins and aunts and uncles, and her grandparents, invaded her peaceful life. There were people sleeping in the guest room, on her bedroom floor, on the futon in the living room. And messy boy cousins were messing up her orderly pink bedroom. Aaron and Andy (three and two) had made themselves at home in her bedroom, which meant pulling out ALL the toys and books. Aila walked in and, after surveying the damage, she said only two words: "Uh oh."

And then, when I had been making myself at home in their guest room for about a week, Aila entered to retrieve a red belt of mine (which she calls a "jump rope"). The bed was unmade, there were clothes and shoes here and there, and Aila announced her verdict to us at the kitchen table: "Messy."

Reverse Psychology

My sister has become an expert in reverse psychology since having kids. Two weeks ago when her three-year-old nephew was visiting, Maria pulled an amazing stunt: she confused him with politeness. Aaron had been kicking the ball inside the house, and it was confiscated. He wanted it back. Read on...

Aaron: "Tia Maria, can you get me that ball because I want to play with it and I won't kick it, I just want to roll it? Can you get if for me, please?"

Maria: "No thank you." And walked away.

End of conversation.

Dinner Conversation

(In case you're a new reader, Pete and Irma are my parents.)

Irma: "What would you like to drink?"

Anna-Lisa: "7-UP, please."

Pete: "You can use plastic 7-UP bottles to catch snails."

Anna-Lisa: "Really?"

Pete: "Yeah, it works the same way as a fly catcher. You make an opening that they can crawl into, but one they can't get out of. Farmers will put them near the chicken coop."

Anna-Lisa: "Really?"

Pete: "Actually, a two-liter 7-UP bottle works best." (see here)

Irma: "But I won't buy two liters of anything."

Pete: "Beer is good bait."

Irma: "That's a waste of good beer."

Anna-Lisa: "Can I have another sausage?"

Irma: "We have a creature in our yard that is eating all the snails and leaving empty shells in the planter. I think it's a tree rat."

Pete: "I think it's an opossum because I don't think rats eat snails. Maybe we could raise them for escargot. Remember when Pinky (the cat) caught a rat in the neighbor's yard when we lived in Somis? The neighbors who owned the carnival rides?"

Anna-Lisa: "The O'Connor's? You've got your timeline wrong because they didn't move in until about 1987, and Pinky died when we lived in Germany. Kidney failure."

Irma: "No, it was the neighbors who were from New York and the wife worked as a nurse at Pleasant Valley Hospital."

Anna-Lisa: "The ones whose car rolled down into our yard because they didn't put the hand brake on?"

Pete: "Yes, and when Pinky caught the rat in their yard they told us they only had one rat."

Irma: "Yes, and she was a nurse. I couldn't believe that she would say that. She was a nurse after all."

Anna-Lisa: "Pinky died in 1980. It was Mirri who caught the rat."

Pete: "Well it was one of our cats."

Irma: "That reminds me of the time I was walking Muffin at night and I almost pet an opossum."

Anna-Lisa: "Can I have more 7-UP?"

I wrote a song

Maria's *new* baby cries just like a little lamb. So I wrote a song. Please sing to the tune of "Mary had a little lamb":

Maria had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb,
Maria had a little lamb who looked just like a baby.

Poolside Interview

Americans are friendly, or something. I went down to the pool last night for a quick swim. Already in the pool were two girls, a boy, and their father. Then their mother arrived poolside. And one of the girls swam near me and said, "hi." And my first reaction was, "what's wrong with you? Don't you know that people don't talk to each other, unless they're drunk?"

Then I heard, "are you here for the weekend?" from the mother.

"Who, me??" I asked. Maybe she's drunk. Or maybe she was asking her 11-year-old son.

Twenty minutes later, this is what I had learned:
Patrick is 2 years and three months older than the twins, Kelly and Krysta, so she had three kids in diapers, and her husband works night shifts, and they're in Palm Springs for the long weekend with two other families, but they got here first, and she wakes up at six every morning, and the kids go to bed at 9pm, and from then until midnight is the only time she has to herself. And then she demonstrated how she was able to bottle feed the twins at the same time when they were newborns.

Was I annoyed that my swim was interrupted? Was she drunk? Is she crazy? Does she like people, and does she like to talk? No, no, no, yes and yes.

Then her cell phone rang and she started speaking in Spanish, and actually interrupted the phone call to explain to me that her mother's dog Bailey had run away, but her mother found the dog on Montgomery Avenue, and was so relieved that she couldn't be mad at the dog any more. Turns out her mother is Mexican, but her father is of German descent, so she burns easily, but the twins, who are 8, turn a beautiful golden brown. Fraternal twins. In fact, they're special twins: Krysta was born at 10:00 pm on August 2nd and Kelly was born at 2:00 am on August 3rd. And Patrick just turned 11 on May 21st. "Happy Birthday." "Thank you."

"Have a good night. See you around. Nice to meet you. Bye."

And then I realised she never introduced herself. Whatever.

Reporting from California

Yes, your California correspondent here.

It's 143 degrees* outside and I'm freezing because my dad, Pete "iceberg" Sandstrum, likes to keep the air conditioner at 59 degrees*. We are at the Courtyard Marriott because, well, because we are of no use at my sister's house. Nurse Irma is rocking the *new* baby, and folding her in blankets, and using other nursing witchcraft.

The journey from Edinburgh to Palm Springs included the following highlights:
1. A 6'5" tall man feinting on the plane from Edinburgh to Paris. He was met by an ambulance. Perhaps an attention-seeker. Perhaps a diabetic. We'll never know.
2. Seeing a bumper sticker on the L.A. freeway that said: "Catholic, the Original Christian." What??
3. Meeting baby Anaise Katarina, who has my hands. Seeing Aila Maria again!
4. Hearing Spanish, and being called "hon" by the waitress.
5. Seeing the sun.

More later.

*Please note, all measurements are in Californian for the time being.

Finally!

Anaise Katarina has finally arrived.
May 23, 2005
10:40 PM
8lbs 4oz
20 inches

more to follow

That Famous Camp Song

There's a camp song that goes:

You're late!
You're late!
You're late, you're late, you're late, and you're uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugggggly.

It is to be sung to kids or counsellors who arrive LATE to a meeting. I will have to hesitate to sing that to Peter Marie when she FINALLY arrives. The update from Maria is that she is having light contracts, 40 or so minutes apart, and is nesting. She's cleaning and cleaning and cleaning. Maria has a doctor's appointment tomorrow.

When Maria told my mom that she was having light contractions, the Irma was pleased and said, "she's getting ready to come out!"

"She's been getting ready to come out for a f*#%*n month," Maria told me. "My would-be Taurus is a Gemini now."

Interview Tomorrow

Paul: Are you nervous about your interview tomorrow?

A-L: No, I bought a pair of pink trousers today. I'm not wearing them to the interview, but they've calmed my nerves. Do you want to ask me some practice interview questions?

Paul: Hello. Thank you for coming to our offices today. Tell me a little bit about yourself.

A-L: I bought pink trousers yesterday.

Paul: Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

A-L: Sitting in your chair.

Paul: Thank you for coming.

A-L: When do I start?

Paul: When it's acceptable to wear light pink trousers to an interview.

The Hunger Site

Visit the Hunger Site and click to donate food.

The Real Masterminds

The other night "Junior Mastermind" was on T.V. Oh, the perfect opportunity for Paul and me to feel smart . . . Beating an 11-year-old at trivia is quite satisfying.

So, there was a boy in "the hot seat" and the question posed to him was:

"What U.S. windy city has a downtown area called "The Loop"?"

Kid answers: "Italy."

Yes, Italy, that famous U.S. windy city.

And then we watched the next contestant, a girl named Emily, and Paul actually sang these words:

"Ha, ha, Emily, I got one more right than you."

So we turned the television off and spent the rest of the evening changing the maps in our flat and moving Italy to the Mid West.

40 Weeks and Goin' Strong

Maria is 40 weeks along. Actually, earlier she reminded me that today is the beginning of her 41st week of pregnancay. Officially, Peter-Marie is late. My dad would say that's a familiar trait in Sandstrum women. My father always said that his father always said that his mother would be late getting ready if the house was burning down. Maria might argue that Peter-Marie is not a Sandstrum, but a Romero. But genes travel well through different last names.

Maria said she is at the "comedy of errors" stage of her pregnancy. She said the other day she was chopping onions, dropped half of it on the floor, and it took her 20 minutes to pick up the onion and wipe the floor. "It's like carrying a medicine ball around, and every time you sit down you feel like you're sitting on the baby's head."

And she reports that the contractions she was having intermittently a day and a half ago, have ended. More later.

Guess Their Major

Last night Paul and I took a stroll along to Edinburgh Uni's student union to meet Stu and Su for some games of pool. (I was watching, they were cueing. And when Paul asked me why I don't ever play pool, I said that it was because my dad once told me, "if someon'e good at pool, it tells you only one thing: they've spent too much time in bars.")

By the time Su, Stu and Paul had played about 50 games between them, I had devised a few ways of entertaining myself. After I horrified and offended the freaky goth kid at the next table by smiling at him (after he kept staring at us), I turned to the table to our right, which was occupied by seven early-20's young ladies. They weren't particularly stylish, or unstylish, but they were dressed neatly, not at all revealingly, and most were without makeup. The next logical question was: "Paul, what do you think they major in? To me they look like Biology or Nursing majors."

Paul: "I think they're medics."

A-L: "Paramedics."

Paul: "No, studying medicine."

A-L: "That's what I thought, Nursing majors."

Paul: "No, not Nursing. Proper medicine."

A-L: "Oh, I see. I'll be sure to tell my mom, who has delivered hundreds of babies, that you think she's an imposter. By the way, what's the difference between God and a doctor?"

Paul: "What??"

A-L: "God doesn't think he's a doctor. Anyway, they look like Biology majors."

Paul: "Wouldn't that be ironic: Survival of the Ugliest!"

A-L: "What??"

Paul: "Those girls are definitely not Maths or Physics majors. Especially not that one with the curly hair. Doesn't she know perms are out of style?"

A-L: "I don't think she had her hair permed like that. No one would. I think it's natural. And I've decided they're biology majors. They look practical."

Paul: "That would make sense. Darwin went to Edinburgh Uni."

A-L: "Charles? To Edinburgh Uni?"

Paul: "Yes, all the greats did."

A-L: "Like Ronald Reagan?"

Paul: "Yes, Adam Smith, Charles Darwin, David Hume and Ronald Reagan."

A-L: "My mom loves Reagan."

Paul: "I thought they might be English Lit majors, but they're not funky enough. Maybe they're Language majors. Those people always dress plainly."

A-L: "I'm pretty sure Adam Smith was Economics. They could be French majors."

(Giggling and laughing from table of Biology/Nursing/Languages majors next to us, as the "white ball" totally misses its target.)

Paul: "Well, they're definitely not majoring in Geometry."

A-L: "Or Physics."

Paul: "Don't quote me on this, but I think they go to Napier."

The Gym

Paul is a member at Escape, a local gym (although it does sound like the name of a suspicious massage parlor), and invited me along to sample the delights of running machines, free weights, stair climbers, the pool and the sauna. Did I mention the pool and the sauna?

Well, I used to run a bit when I lived in a place that was closer to the sun, a land called California where it's not 4 degrees in May, a land where water falls out of the tap, not out of the sky. Long story short, these legs haven't run in a while. So I ran for about eight minutes. Which brings me to the sauna and pool. They were lovely.

In the sauna I poured so much water on the rocks in an attempt to show off my half Finnishness that I ended up driving myself out of there, leaving a Welshman as the sauna champion. And then I made the faux pas of jumping straight from the sauna into the swimming pool without rinsing off, which in terms of Finnish hygiene protocal Chapter 3, Verse 1, means I can have my Finnish passport revoked. In fact, they might even summon me to Helsinki just so they could deport me.

But the best part about Escape, which could make it worth the 35 GBP monthly fee, is that you get to use AS MUCH free shampoo and conditioner and body wash as you want. I washed my hair twice.

Monday Afternoon Entertainment

Happy Monday afternoon to America. Are you bored? Well, I'll entertain you.

What's more entertaining than a blog with photos of German animals, in German, in Germany? I won't even try to answer that question.

How about my cousin Minna's web site featuring photos of her twin girls?? In Finnish, in Finland.

What else can I offer you?

A site about musicals (for Stuart and Paul, especially.)

The Old Man

My father has been balding and greying since he was 19. Inside, he's still 19, much to my mother's dismay. His white hair and shiny dome lead many to misoverestimate his age. Add to that the fact that he sometimes talks to himself, and one might get the totally wrong image of him, as he wanders the airports of the western world. (In reality, he's the kind of guy who tells the waitress, when she asks if he wants a glass for his beer, "it already comes in a glass!", not some frail old man.)

My mom recently related that well-meaning strangers have approached him at the airport, as he navigates the crowds with a large suitcase and toolbox, and have offered to help him carry his luggage. He smiles, accepts their kind offer, and then laughs when they can't lift his heavy toolbox.

Newsflash - Sun Hovers Over Scotland

The sun was out and about here in Edinburgh Friday, Saturday AND Sunday and has now retreated back away from Scotland. And it's freezing again. But faces have seen the sun and are now slightly brownish and not so greyish. Read more about Scotland's peculiar weather.

The Oracle of Camarillo

I think my mom, who left Finland for the US at the age of 27, feels a kinship with Ted (my Polish flatmate) who is living far away from his family and struggling to learn English. She always asks about him, and wants to know how he is doing. Well, when she heard that Ted is in awe of Teflon pans and wanted to send some to his wife in Poland, my mom stepped in and said she wanted to send them. So, Ted gave me Magosha's address in Poland. There was a letter or two in the address I couldn't decipher, and asking Ted if it was an L, R, J, C or K led to nothing. So I just mailed my mom the scrap of paper he had written on. She phoned the other day to enquire about the mystery letter and ended up speaking to Paul. Talk of Teflon pans and Polish addresses led to a political discussion. And apparently she managed to slip this into the conversation, "but it didn't matter, because Roosevelt was a socialist anyway."

A Lecturer By Any Other Name

The students have handed in their first assignment. They have to put my name on the cover page. These are some of the ways my name was spelled:

A. Lindstrom
Anne,elise,Sandstrom? (complete with commas and question mark)
Lisa-Ann Sandstrum
Anne-Lisa Sandrum

Too bad Maria and Hector have already chosen a name for the baby (Peter-Marie, or Anaise Katarina). They could have farmed some names from this list. I'm particularly fond of Anne,elise,Sandstrom?. It's very post-modern.