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.

Dear Peter-Marie,

Your due date is not until May 19th but I am anxious to meet you. Let me know when you're on your way.

Elgin

Guess where I went this weekend? Yes, I went to Elgin. And let me tell you, it was both Magical AND Mythical. (see previous posts)

Paul, Stuart and I took the Megabus up on Friday, from Edinburgh to Inverness, a route which takes you through some of the most Magical AND Mythical scenery in Scotland. Maybe even the world. The bus ride cost 5 GBP.

Some weekend highlights included:

• Elgin's broken cathedral
• a scenic drive to visit Stuart's Granda near Inverurie
• seeing a "Jesus is coming. Look busy." magnet on the refrigerator at the home of the Reverend and Mrs Rollo
  

Photographic Evidence

Granted you can't see his feet, but this is what Sandstrum-Jackson does with his arms when he's moonwalking.

The Moonwalk

The other night the subject of "the moonwalk" came up and I felt obliged to mention that my dad is an excellent moonwalker. I'd say it's his signature move.

Someone asked when my dad started moonwalking, and where he learned it.

I don't think he knows he's doing the moonwalk, per se, and I think he's probably been dancing it since the 50s, and come to think of it, he might have invented it.

"Does your dad know Michael Jackson?" someone asked.

No. I don't think so. And I'm not sure when MJ stole my dad's move.

Snooker News

The World Snooker Championship Final is on now. Why aren't you watching??