Jewellery Designers (read: drug smugglers)

Tonight at Kebab Mahal two Argentinian gentleman came and sat down next to us. So I turned to them and asked them where they were from, how long they had been in Edinburgh, and why they were here.

Argentina. A year and a half. To work.

What do you do?

Design jewellery.

Neither had a piece of jewellery on. And they didn't look like the designery type. So I continued the interrogation. What other languages do you speak?

Spanish, Turkish and Albanian.

What were you doing in Turkey?

Designing jewellery.

What were you doing in Albania?

Designing jewellery.

By then I had decided they were hit men, or baby thieves, or drug smugglers.

So I said to them in Spanish: "My sister Maria's husband is Mexican." Which sounds like a line out of a 9th grade Spanish textbook.

And then I pulled out the other phrase I know in Spanish: "The cowboy mouse drew his two pistols."

And then for some reason they moved tables???

Weirdos.

Plumbing Mysteries

Last Saturday morning, there's a knock at the door. I open the door to see a strange woman.

Strange Woman: I live downstairs and there's water streaming down the wall in my kitchen can you check if you have a leak?

A-L: Sure. (Thinking: how could there be a leak, we haven't washed dishes or done laundry in days??)

I check under the sink to find nothing, besides 72 almost empty bottles of laundry detergent. So I return to the lady who I left standing in the stairwell.

A-L: No, our sink isn't leaking.

S W: Maybe it's your wash machine because it's on the back wall.

Should I let her in so she can see for herself? But our house is "in a bad way".

A-L: Would you like to come in and show me where the water is coming from? I'm sorry, our flat is such a mess, so please don't look around.

S W, looking around: Oh, I'm not even allowed in my son's flat!

S W checks out the washer, and says: Yes, that's where it's coming down the wall. Can you call your landlord and get it fixed?

A-L: Sure, I'll take care of it right away. (Too bad I can't remember our landlord's name or number and Paul is in Elgin, where they have no phones, so I'll have to send a carrier pigeon.) Are you the one with the kittens?

S W: No. They belong to the people in the building next door whose children have their own yard but always play in ours.

She exits.

I quickly fashion a sign that says "Kaput/Broken" (so that both Paul and Ted will understand) and fasten it to the wash machine.

Two days pass. Laundry piles up.

Monday morning, knock at the door.

S W: There is now a huge bulge in the ceiling and it's about to collapse. Have you been using the wash machine? You know you can't use it! Have you called the landlord?

A-L: I'll call right now.

S W: You haven't called yet? My husband is going to go ballistic when he sees this.

A-L, to herself: Don't threaten me with the wrath of your husband. I'm American, I'll sue you for distressing me. Out loud: OK.

I shut the door.

Call Paul for the number, then call the landlord who explains that water damage is considered an Act of God and we are not liable for it unless, unless, they can prove negligence on our part.

A-L, meekly: What do you mean, "negligence"?

Landlord: Well, like if they told you about it a week ago and you did nothing about it.

I see in my mind's eye time-lapse photography of water droplets slowly destroying the downstair's neighbor's ceiling as I gallavant about St Andrews all day Sunday. And then I see myself dragged to prison by the insurance company because I can't pay for the water damage. So I call the plumber who says: Don't use the wash machine.

Really??? Because I've been pouring water onto the floorboards since I heard of the problem downstairs. And I've been running a laundry business and washing heavy loads just so I can be to blame for the water damage.

Tuesday morning a note is put through our mail slot:

"Can you please give me your landlord's number for insurance purposes?"

So on Tuesday the appliance guy determines there's nothing wrong with the washer, besides the fact that it doesn't collect, dry and fold laundry, and says the water must be coming from somewhere else. Which brings us to today's visit from the plumber.

Buzzer rings, plumber comes upstairs. I summon Paul to enter stage right.

A-L to plumber: Are you Mike? I mean Michael? Hi, I'm Anna-Lisa. We cleaned up for you, can you tell?

Wry smile from plumber.

Plumber Michael: Are they home downstairs? I think I'll go take a look at the damage.

Plumber Michael returns and starts examining under the sink and the washer: Have you been using the sink?

A-L: Huh, no, can't you tell?? (Pointing to pile of dishes, and thinking I'm hilarious...)

Plumber Michael: Did you use the wash machine after she reported the leak?

I ignore the question.

Paul: Do you think the lady downstairs made it up?

Wry smile from plumber.

A-L: Maybe it was coming from the flat above ours, because the washer repair guy was here yesterday and said there's nothing wrong with the washer, so I can't be sued for negli..., I mean, so there's no logical explanation.

Plumber Michael: They have just a slight stain on the ceiling downstairs, but it would be along this wall here, so I'm not sure where it was coming from.

A-L to herself: So I'm not going to prison for being a lazy, inconsiderate neighbor. Out loud: She made it sound like their whole ceiling was caving in.

Wry smile from plumber.

A-L: Maybe the flat downstairs is haunted.

Wry smile from plumber.

Plumber Michael: Well, I don't see anything wrong. I really don't know where it was coming from. I'm going to go back downstairs. I told they guy I'd stop back in and tell him what I found.

Paul: That his wife is pathalogical??

A-L: Yes, that we've diagnosed his wife as a crazy??

Plumber exits, quickly.

My Brussels Correspondent

Gemma Lougheed, erstwhile Napier University publishing student and now EU politial expert, writes here about a surprise best seller in France.

Cutenessness Squared

Aila and "Paappa"

Dear Reader

Do not be alarmed. It's a whole new look, but the same niece-centric content. And my thanks to Paul for showing me how to upload photos. Now I can post a picture of Aila every day.

Cutenessness

Niece Aila Maria

English Lessons

We had an English lesson today and Ted learned "this/here" and "that/there". It was a bit of a struggle and we had to call in reinforcements and translators (his sister-in-law, not "sister-in-love" as Ted used to say).

I now know to preface grammatical concepts with the Polish word "Gramatyka" as a warning. Ted has a small travel phrasebook which is known to us as the "English/Polish, Polish/English small book." When I say that, he knows it's time for "Gramatyka".

The book is only somewhat helpful. Today Ted asked about the difference between "work" and "job" and I decided it was time to introduce nouns and verbs, but I couldn't find those terms in the "English/Polish, Polish/English small book." Someone decided that non-English speaking Polish travellers do not need to know "verb" or "noun" but they do need to know:

fritter - roztrwonić

gherkin - korniszon

Harvey Wallbanger - wódka z sokiem pomarańczowym

plimsolls (!) - tenisówki

Ted speaks Polish at work all day which does hinder his progress, but his English is improving. He has now replaced his home-grown phrase "new week" with the correct phrase "next week" and the above-mentioned "sister-in-love" is gone, which is kind of a shame...

Finnish-Japanese

I'm not quite sure what's happenin' here - I'll have to spend about six hours deciphering it with a Finnish-English dictionary - but at first sight it looks as if three Finnish men travelled to Japan to find Japanese brides. I'm sure that's not what's going on, but you never know. I'll have to get Irma on the case. But it's just lovely to see the beautiful vowel-laden Finnish language in full effect.

Footnotes to Magical, Mythical Elgin

1 "She actually produced it [West Side Story]," said Paul, "same shit though."

2 "Yeah, 750 or so tickets sold every night of the show. Every year they make about 6,000-7,000 GBP and they donate it to Christian Aid."

Magical, Mythical Elgin

Flatmate Paul returned safely from Elgin with reports of having attended a production of "West Side Story" directed by his mother. The show was on Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Paul said he attended the Saturday show "because my mom had an extra ticket for that night."

"It was sold out?" I asked, trying to imagine this special little town where the minster's wife directs an annual sell-out musical.

"Yeah, it always sells out."

As Sara would say, "Can you even??"

No Sara, I can't.

Animal Instinct

This afternoon I made Ted (the Polish flatmate) leave his dark room and join me for a walk through Edinburgh's lovely Royal Botanic Garden. It's a brisk 10-minute walk from our flat. Well, it was a lovely sunny afternoon and we were joined by squirrels aplenty and busied ourselves reading all the plant names and trying to guess where they were from. China, mostly. But Ted did see a few trees that also live in Poland.

Just as we were leaving the RBG we saw a group of people gathered around the base of a large tree. The attraction? A cat who was perched in the tree comically swiping at all the birds that passed, and scaring the bejeesus out of a treed squirrel. The sideshow was a frantic lady who was of the opinion that house cats should not be allowed in the RBG. Why not? "That cat's scaring the squirrel and he's trying to chase it and I don't want him to hurt it and why is that cat in the Garden?? Who does he belong to?" she asked, looking at me, as if I'm the guardian of all Edinburgh cats. Let me just check my Edinburgh cat rota. "Where does he live?" Again looking at me, and Ted. "I don't want him to hurt that squirrel," she said to Ted whose saving grace was that he only understood the word "I". Now addressing the cat directly, she said: "Go home and eat your Whiskas and leave that poor squirrel alone." Now me addressing the lady as if I were the cat: "Look lady, I'm just following my instincts." It was clearly time to leave the RBG.

Lunch mit Wilhelm

Yesterday Patrick (Stuart's German friend) and I drove to St Andrews. The "reason de reise" was three-fold: 1. so Patrick could see the town and decide if he will attend university there next autumn, 2. so I could hijack someone into speaking German with me for more than 10 minutes, and 3. lunch with Prince William, of course.

You can't help but look for Prince William when in St Andrews. Try it. Impossible. Everywhere are tall, light-brown haired fancy looking 20-somethings wearing collared shirts. We even looked for the Prince in the library. Much neck craning, and a few false sightings, but no William. Oder Wilhelm.

Good News

Paris Hilton says the next season of her T.V. show will be "funner." That's good news for everybody!

Hold Tight

Dear Readers,

Thursday update:

1. The 'r' on my keyboard is broken now so I have to cut and paste it every time I need to type 'r'. Otherwise the 'r' acts as a 'home' key and returns me up to the start. "It took me 15 minutes to type 'horror'," the b/f told me.

2. The b/f's dissertation is due April 29. He's living at the computer lab now.

3. Paul has escaped to Elgin for the weekend.

4. The Polish one is up to his old shenanigans of working all hours and spilling cooking oil on the kitchen floor late at night and cleaning it up in the fashion of a six-year-old (ie: smearing it around with a cloth). So I left the mop out.

5. The b/f referred to me as his g/f in an e-mail, so from now on he's the b/f.

6. Lecture tomorrow. Gotta run.

Jury Selection

RE: "Contempt of Court" posted April 15, 2005

Irma was not selected for the jury.

Wrong German Guy

Dear Paul, (not flatmate-Elgin Paul, but Salzburg-Portland Paul)

In the event that some dear readers don't make it to the comments realm, and therefore might be deprived of some needed hilarity, I'll address you here. RE your latest comment: Information about the *new* Pope, Joseph Ratzinger, cannot be found, as you assert, by following this link.

The *real* *new* Pope has a fan club, formed in his mere Cardinal days. (At www.ratzingerfanclub.com. Wasn't working when I tried it. No doubt besieged by membership enquiries.)

Tony McBlair

Is Tony Blair Scottish because he was born in Scotland? (Edinburgh, actually.) I think he would give his nationality as British. Read more on the difference between being English, Scottish, Welsh and British.

Germany Wins

So I hear that the Germans have won the Papacy. Mr Ratzinger, as I have always known him, is the *new* Pope. Some say he might be a "devisive" Pope. I hope he's "indevisive".

Whaddya Know

As if you needed another reason to visit Scotland . . . but here it is: The gentleman who penned 'Wee Willie Winkie', William Miller, is buried in Glasgow, at the Glasgow Necropolis. There you have it. As I like to say, what time does your flight land??

Roving Reporter

Yesterday I spoke with my correspondent in Coachella, CA, who gave reports of a cousin's birthday party and barking dogs. Yes, Aila had much to report. My sister had to confiscate the phone from Aila because she was walking towards her room with it to show me something. Bless.

Contempt of Court

My mom gets called for jury duty and spends a long, boring day at the Ventura County Courthouse hoping she doesn't get chosen for a three-week long construction lawsuit. The other jurors are dropping like flies. Irma is still standing, and it's too late to pull the "I no speak much English" trick. So some "young guy who's a manager at two restaurants" is sitting next to her, and a lady in a rainbow shirt, "really bright, almost shiny", comes into the courtroom and my mom turns to "the young guy" and says, "I wonder if her shirt glows in the dark?" My mom's excuse for cracking-wise in the courtroom is "well, you have to entertain yourself somehow". So the next person called up to the stand is the lady in the glow-in-the-dark rainbow shirt, and she walks right in front of my mom and "the young guy" who "almost start laughing". Troublemaker.

Dear Paul,

You're being anti-social by using the computer in your room. It's much more fun when we both sit in the living room using our laptops. So come through to the living room. Oh, Norette just phoned, she and Robbie are staying over tonight. They're driving down from Dingwall, and should be here around 11. We're going to The Bongo Club.

Anna-Lisa

Where's Emma?

Yesterday evening, from the No. 23 bus, I spotted my friend Emma walking up The Mound, towards the Royal Mile. I swear it was her. "It was the spit of her," as my Irish friends would say. So, I turned to Paul and said, "I hope that wasn't my friend Emma because I would be more than a little upset if she travelled all the way to Edinburgh from Portland, Oregon and didn't visit me." So, Paul, ever the consoling friend, said to me, "that would be hilarious if it was her." So I told him that his entire family was here last weekend, stayed at the Balmoral Hotel, and invited Stuart and me to brunch and made us promise not to tell Paul.

P.S.
Brunch was delicious!

Baby #2

When Maria was pregnant with Aila, we knew all the stats. Aila was, after all, the first baby to grace our family since me - back in the summer of '75. So, when Maria "fell pregnant" as the Irish would say, we were delighted and uber attentive. (Please excuse the missing umlauts.)

We knew Aila's due date: Maria's doctor had calculated it as September 4, and my mom (have I mentioned she's a witch doctor, I mean midwife?) said September 2 (or was it the other way around??) so Aila, ever the diplomat, arrived on September 3. My mom was available 24 hours a day to provide up-to-the-minute reports on Aila's blood pressure and heart rate, in utero.

With baby #2, who y'all know has been christened Peter Marie, we know nothing.

I asked my mom the other day, "When is Peter Marie's due date?"

"Sometime in May, I think."

Great. Guess there's no need to bring a camera, or buy a baby book.

Dear Readers,

I know there are thousands of you, and in lieu of writing each of you a letter, I'll update you here on the goings on of this broad abroad:

1. The 'g' on my keyboard is 'on the fritz' again, as they say. So excuse any missing gs

2. It's winter again in Edinburgh, although yesterday it was summer. Who knows what tomorrow brings? (Who sang that song? I think it was a duet, in fact I know it was. Answers accepted until 3pm PST. Caroline, I'm counting on you...)

3. As we speak, so to speak, I am preparing tomorrow's Publishing Mangement lecture on the stages of a publishing project, and the different tools (ie documents) available for project evaluation.

4. Two days ago, on my way to meet some friends for lunch, I was held hostage (in conversation) by a gentleman who kept using the phrase, "If you know your history . . ." followed by some obscure historical fact that he knew. It turned into a festival of one-upmanship which traveled from his knowledge of Italy and the Italian language, side stepped over to my knowledge of Finnish and Finland's glorious history, and then ended when he said: "I have that problem when I speak Ukrainian." And then the number 13 bus arrived, before I was able to pull out the trump card of speaking German. Damn.

5. The Polish flatmate has stopped doing dishes altogether, and yesterday, as I stood at the sink washing his dishes, he told me, 'I don't have time to wash dishes.' So I told him that I am going to charge him 5GBP every day that I wash his dishes. Why didn't I think of this earlier? I'd be a hundredaire.

6. My friend Erin, and her husband Keith, welcomed Ella Elisabeth Matlock into the world, and beautiful Southern California, on April 8, 2005. Congratulations. Erin's mom told my mom who told me that Keith was "walking on air." Isn't that sweet? Yes, it is.

7. I'll be stateside May 25 to June 20 which means you should be bracing yourself for American-centric news reports.

8. More later.

Fair Weather Friends

My dad wants me to move to Spain because he's scared of cold weather. He once traveled to Chicago, mid-winter, with no socks. That was the last time he and my mom packed his suitcase 'together'.

My parents were going to come to Scotland, last November, for my graduation, but then they realised it was November, and Scotland. My mom said something about bringing a raincoat 'in case it rains'. It's November, and Scotland. So they ended up not coming because they 'couldn't get the flights'. All booked up, I suppose. November is the best time to come visit Edinburgh, for the Festival of the Grayness.

But now it's spring, which is why it was freezing this past weekend. Mother Winter made one last show, just for kicks. Someone has installed solar panels on the south-facing side of one of Napier University's buildings. April fool's joke, maybe. Stuart pointed them out to me. (I never look up, because then your neck gets cold.) I believe these solar panels would be equally effective if they were installed underneath the building. Fancy a visit?

This is NOT a Hoax

ALL day yesterday I was fending off questions from readers of my blog (there are thousands) about my ties to the D.C.-based author Amanda Hill. Are you really friends with her? Have you known her since you were 16? Did you used to go clubbing in L.A. together? Are you in her book, Love Like That?

Yes, yes, yes and you'll have to buy it to find out.

Books

So I've strayed away a bit from the book theme that was the initial purpose of this blog. As we know, The Ferocious Reader has turned into a site where Sister Maria, Cousin Amy and I make comments about how cute my niece is. Oh well. So back to the books. I've found one that we ALL can read.

It so happens that my friend Amanda Hill, who I have known since we were 16-year-olds driving around Ventura in Kelli Sampson's candy-apple red BMW, has written a romance novel Love Like That. It's out now. I think we should all buy three copies. Read reviews here.

LATE BREAKING NEWS:

My dad, Pete, reports that he got a hold of an advance copy of Love Like That and says he "can totally relate" to the "quick-witted, impulsive, aggressively unambitious" main character, Dalton Moss, who is "a halfhearted assistant to a Hollywood events planner" and spends her days "haggling over the price of chicken Florentine and waiting for the workday to end". Thanks Pete!

P.S.
Today just happens to be Kelli Sampson's 30th Birthday. Mandy, will you pass on Birthday wishes to Kelli?

Collect All Six

So, this morning, at about 11:24 when I walked into the kitchen and saw Paul washing dishes, I knew somthing was amiss. Pleasantries exchanged, and Paul pipes up, "Judy's coming over for coffee." This is Judy Rollo. THE Judy Rollo. Paul's older sister, and the ONLY one of the six Rollos I haven't met.

A-L: "Really! Great. When??"

Paul: "Oh, 11:30 or so."

A-L: "What?? You're kidding. I have 6 minutes to make our flat presentable to the eldest Rollo sibling? Our kitchen looks like a gypsy encampment."

Paul: "It's ok, Judy Rollo is always late..."

A-L: "This calls for a toilet scrubbing!! Judy Rollo can't see a dirty bathroom. And hide the Polish flatmate, he hasn't showered yet."

Four minutes later the buzzer goes. There was no time to distract her in the stairwell. No chance to put beer bottles away . . . And then she appeared: Judy Rollo. (With fiancee Gerry, who is kind and funny.) Nice to finally meet you Judy. Come over any time.

Well, Is She Still a Girl?

My sister had another ultrasound on Tuesday to see if Peter-Marie is still a girl. I haven't heard a word. Feel free to add comments. (they're fixed now, so anyone can post)