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)

That's nice

Feel good stories about minority students in Northridge always make me happy.

PJP2

The BBC just told me that the Pope is ailing even more than previously. I'm not Catholic (I'm Lutheran, like all good Finns) but I'm a ward of the Catholic church, having attended Catholic High School and University. And Lutheran is about as close as you can get to Catholic. It's Catholic Lite: "Catholicism without the guilt". That's how we market it. Anywho, I meet PJP2 in March of 1995, when our Salzburg group (not a cult) visited Rome on our Spring Tour. PJP2 said mass and during the blessing I wasn't paying attention so my religious trinkets weren't properly blessed.

So PJP2, thanks for blessin' a Lutheran (Martin would be proud). Sendin' that blessn' right back at ya'.

Peace.
ALS1

Pigeonholed

Yesterday my flatmate Paul returned from a two-week trip to San Francisco with tales of fabulous cafes, Mexican food, views of the Golden Gate Bridge, a snowboarding journey to Tahoe, and most importantly, the acquaintance of a new cat. Here was the conversation:

Paul: "Gregor and Caitlin have the sweetest kitty. The softest fur in the world. Four years old, from the humane society."

Anna-Lisa: "Large or compact?"

Paul: "Quite compact, as a matter of fact."

A-L: "Long- or short-haired?"

Paul (after petting the imaginary cat in his lap): "Short."

A-L: "Lap cat or armchair sitter?"

Paul: "Lap cat for sure. Head butter as a matter of fact."

A-L: "I know the type."

Easter Monday

On Easter Monday we (me and others) went whitewater rafting in Aberfeldy, on the River Tay. SPLASH! was the company, cold was the temperature, freezing were my hands and feet, horizontal rain was in the face, rapids fun and good, and Toby our English guide with Australian accent deserved a tip. But the Brits don't tip.

1975

Yes folks, it's been the year of the 30th birthday party. Today another 30 cheers for Erin Matlock (nee Leonard). Erin and I became friends at St Bonaventure High School shortly before her 16th birthday. So we've been friends for 14 years. That's an eternity when you're raised as a gypsy, like I was. I know people who are still best friends with their kindergarden classmates. Impossible for the nomadic Sandstrums. I don't even remember if I went to kindergarden. I must have. By the time my sister was 11 she had been in 42 schools. I have 31 yearbooks. So, to make a birthday wish a long story, happy birthday Erin.

tGif

It's Friday. Good Friday to be precise. And it also happens to be Greek Independence Day, which I know only because it's my friend Sara Checkal's birthday, and EVERY year I use the same tired joke of calling her up and saying "Happy Greek Independence Day", and then at the last minute pretending to remember that it's also her birthday. And this year I added to the hilarity and hijinks by calling and wishing her a Happy Good Friday, which isn't all that funny, if you're Christian. Because the Christians are supposed to be in church today, allllllll day, remembering the suffering of Jesus on the cross. But thank God the Brits didn't get the memo. They're all off today, shopping. And one of my students told me we don't have class today because it's a bank holiday. Yes, Jesus was a huge figure in the British banking community.

Eavesdropping

Last night Stuart and I had dinner at The Apartment, and sat next to a table of four: three men and one woman - two Americans, a Brit, and one VERY LOUD Australian man.

It seemed the American woman, and her British husband, and their American colleague were embarking on a business venture with the Australian man. (I would recommend against it.)

I decided not to say a word, to anyone, not even Stuart (except whispering), for fear that they would detect my American accent and censor their most interesting conversation. There were some gems.

Gem 1: Loud Australian Man (LAM) on California: "San Diego has no history."

Anna-Lisa to LAM (in her head): "Tell that to the Mexicans and the Native Americans, you idiot."

Gem 2: LAM after speaking in French to American Lady (AM) and in reponse to the American Man (AM) saying that he took French for two years and didn't understand what LAM said: "Yes I knew you wouldn't understand, I was using slang, and you wouldn't know it."

Anna-Lisa to LAM (in her head, but louder): "You jackass, where do you get off trying to discourage people from speaking, or trying to speak, a foreign language by intentionally using slang and then insulting their skills??"

Gem 3: British Man (BM): "When I was in California, I couldn't get over how vacuous people were."

Anna-Lisa to BM (in her head): "I'll be sure to pass that on to the folks at CalTech, and at the Jet Propulsion Lab, while I'm at it."

Anna-Lisa to Stuart: "What does 'vacuous' mean?"

Gem 4: LAM on his vast knowledge of America: "When I go to the States, people tell me 'you unsettle me with how much you know about the U.S.'"

How unsettling.

If you're a thrift shopper . . .

. . . you will enjoy this delightful blog with photos and writings on all things Thrift Store. Namely fabulous finds. We (meaning me, writing in the style of a gay man) love this site. (Note to my father: I am NOT a gay man.)

Go Wales

Many congratulations to Wales, which has just won the Six Nations Rugby Tournament, "in Grand Slam style," adds Stuart. It's a huge win for the small nation, and cost one Welshman dearly when they beat England in February. Oh dear.

Spring Break 2005

My dad, the seasoned business traveler, has a word of advice for people traveling this coming week: "Don't."

Pete has just experienced the joy of traveling during Spring Break 2005. The airport was apparently filled with millions and millions and millions of "college kids."

"They're all over the place," Pete said, "and they just don't know what they're doin', they don't travel so they don't know where to go, and they ask questions."

The nerve of them.

I imagine by the time you've been flying four times a week for thirty years, your airport routine is pretty well choreographed, and these "amateurs" just get in the way. It took Pete 24 hours of traveling time to get from Medford, Oregon, to Los Angeles, via San Jose, uh, no, flight cancelled, make that via Portland and Denver, not counting an overnight stay at the Marriott in Portland.

Welcome home Pete. Where ya' flyin' to this week?

Spring Has Sprung

Edinburgh was springy and sunny and warm today. Folks went crazy, wearin' t-shirts and shorts and such. And when I say "springy and sunny and warm" I'm talkin' 50 F.

Only in Scotland

Stuart to Anna-Lisa: "My grandad used to have that exact same trailer. It's for hauling sheep."

My Conversation With Aila

Yesterday I spoke with Aila on the phone. I had called my sister to get a recipe, so while she looked for it, she put Aila on the line.

This is how it went:

Anna-Lisa: Hi, what are you doing? I miss you. You are so cute. What's going on?

Aila: Ad nentisedtty diosnmek beeboondim.

Maria (in the background): We're coloring.

Anna-Lisa: Are you coloring?

Aila: yea

Anna-Lisa: Are you having a good time?

Aila: yea

Anna-Lisa: Do you miss me?

Aila: No.

Read . . .

...what's happening tomorrow, according to the International Herald Tribune.

A Book In The Works??

If you followed the Scott Peterson trial, which maybe I did, this guy might write an interesting book.

Aila's Art

Three original pieces of artwork by my niece Aila Maria will be on display in Edinburgh on Monday, March 21st, delivered by Noreen, a co-worker of my sister's who is a dealer in the high stakes world of International Baby Niece Art. In other words, Maria is sending with Noreen some paper Aila coloured on. It will be Edinburgh's National Gallery soon, I'm sure.

Did you know?

"They"* call TJ MAXX, TK MAXX.

*those pesky Brits

Overheard (not Overhead) in Britain

Overheard on the bus: Lady to husband/longtime boyfriend, "I think I should just be straightforward with Karen." (When is that NOT a good idea?)

Paul to Stuart: "Do you remember that dog training show that used to be on television?" (British television is full of hidden, slightly dusty gems.)

Fear Not Dear Readers

I am here to talk you through your Friday afternoon. The loooooong Friday afternoon when every hour stretches for many minutes more than the real hour until you look at the clock and think it's 4:04 p.m. and it's 11:33 a.m. I am here for you.

Scenic Camden

Yes, I know I titled a very recent post "Scenic Lebanon", but there are no Syrians in this story, and no "drive for democracy to distract from America's need for a pipeline through Lebanon" subtext.

So forgive me, Caroline, when you sent me a link to a festival in Camden I immediately thought Camden, England, home of the world-famous Camden Markets. Well, Caroline is selling a very different festival. One whose web site includes this quote:

"Begin your adventure in the Great Hall of the United First Methodist Church smack in the middle of town with the festival banners flying!"

Yes, you guessed it, the Camden Daffodil Festival, 12th Annual, might I add, in Camden, Arkansas. You can even "dance in the streets".

My Silly Friend John

. . . is making salmonella at home. Read how.

And Another One

on one-upmanship. Read this hilarious exchange between super-geeks.

Nationbuilding & One-upmanship

The Scene: The bustop at Craighouse Campus of Napier University, this afternoon.

I approached the bustop and recognized my friend Mark. He studies Sociology and is speaking to two people I don't know. One is a woman, thirties, another is a man, twenties, with his back to me, who has an American-ish accent. Possibly Canadian.

Mark: "What is your e-mail address?"

Guy With Back to Me (GWBTM): "It's on the sheet. Or, you can Google me."

Woman in Thirties (WIT): "Nothing comes up when you put my name in Google."

GWBTM: "A lot comes up when you Google me."

Anna-Lisa: (interrupting) "Where are you from? Are you American?"

GWBTM: "I was raised in Iowa."

Anna-Lisa: "But you're not American? Where are you from?"

GWBTM: "I don't really believe in nationalities. What are borders? Why should I conform to borders that were set up arbitrarily by the government, some imaginary line that I can't freely cross?" (like it's the thousandth time he's recited this verse.)

Anna-Lisa: "What kind of passport do you have?"

GWBTM: "A blue one, but I'm getting a red one."

Anna-Lisa: "Oh, so you're American. How are you getting a red one?"

GWBTM: "I have 'Indefinite Leave to Remain'."

Anna-Lisa: "How did you get that?"

GWBTM: "Well, my partner's British*, and so through her. I think I'm supposed to be really grateful that I got it. I had to go through a lot of red tape. Are you over here studying?"

Anna-Lisa: "Actually," (insert condescending long pause while I think about how cool I am), "actually, I just finished my Masters**, and I'm working here, at Napier. What are you doing here?"

GWBTM: "I just finished my PhD at the University of Edinburgh and I'm teaching 'Gender & Sexuality' here at Napier."

Anna-Lisa: "Oh, cool." Quickly turns to Mark who is from the Sheltand Islands and asks: "How are the ponies?"

*(Mentally interrupting him here saying, "I thought you didn't believe in nationalities?????!!!!" (in the style of an 11-year-old)

**It was capitalized in my head.

Scenic Lebanon

I can't wait until the Syrians get out and we can all go to scenic Lebanon. My dad always says, "You know, they used to call Beirut the 'Paris of the Middle East' and then they ruined it." Well, Peter, maybe in a few years we can go visit.

Publishing Management I - Lecture 4

I am putting together the presentation for this Friday's lecture on assets and liabilities and I came up with this super-original genuis quote:

"In financial matters, if there is one word that clearly expresses a concept, there will be three words for it."

The, A, or Your?

This morning as I was getting ready for work Ted appeared in the kitchen. I was wearing a black top, black skirt and black boots and Ted said to me, "you look like manager." His manager, a manager, or the manager??? It's been troubling me all day. Somewhere I have a staff.

Oops

They said Gidget died last week so I've been mourning Sally Field who it turns out is alive and well. Oops.

Billie Jean

So this afternoon I tricked my flatmate Ted into cleaning by hypnotizing him with the music of Michael Jackson. Ted and Michael and I did the dishes, scrubbed the counters, and swept and washed the floor. And when "Billie Jean" came on Ted said, "oh this music good." Michael Jackson. Yes, Ted, it's good. He's very talented. And the next thing Ted said was, "Michael Jackson black man, white afro." I hear ya.

Let Me Make This Perfectly Clear, Paul

I hate magic. I don't hate magicians, I just hate magic. And I don't think magicians are conceited as you falsly assert on your blog, I just think they have no friends. Magic is not magic, by the way. It's fake. It's people lying to you and trying to make you believe that something they just did is not possible. Well, guess what? It is possible. You know why? Because they just did it. So you can send as many people as you want to your magician friend's web site, but I'm not sold. Because I don't want what he's selling: lies. And besides, I know how all the tricks work. They involve "magic" decks of cards with 52 Aces of spades, and secret plastic thumb extensions, and creepy secret pockets in coat cuffs. You know how I know? because I spent two years of my life going to conventions and a "magician" worked at our booth. And he wasn't conceited. The end. Good night.

Dear Readers

I feel the obligation to entertain you on your Friday afternoon. Although I remember well, from my many years of living in the States, that the Friday after President's Day REALLY seems like a Thursday, due to the time warp that Abraham Lincoln 'enacted' when he died. (Note to my dad: No, I am not on drugs.) So nonetheless, I will offer you some entertainment on your Thursday afternoon.

Actually, not much to say. Paul, my flatmate, (not Paul who's not my flatmate who lives in Portland) has enacted a "No Dish Left Behind" policy in an attempt to curb the non-dishwashing antics of our Polish flatmate. Unfortunately, for Ted the "Pole" to understand and appreciate the hilarity, and punniness, of this new policy, we would have to teach him first about the "No Child Left Behind" .

Meanwhile, here's what that pesky Scott Peterson is up to.

Edinburgh Snowcam

This is what it looks like right now (!) in the city of Edinburgh. Pretty, huh? Tell me it's pretty.

Ask Eric About His Doll

Now that I've exposed Eric and his love for cabbage patch dolls, I should direct you to his site so you can meet the man for yourself. He's a funny one. My friend once asked him to describe his hometown in three words. Eric replied: "Very boring, ma'am." Very clever, Eric.

The Rosetta Stone of Blackmail

This photo of my friend Eric and his little brother with their cabbage patch dolls would be the ultimate blackmail photo, except I got the photo from him...

Mr. Bloggy, My Mentor

My old* boss Dwayne Melancon has a blog where he writes about mentoring, and priorities, and procrastinating, and other smart business stuff. (Dwayne's the one whose brow is featured in the top right.)

I worked for/with Dwayne at Tripwire Inc. in Portland in 2000. Let me tell you about Dwayne:
-he is from Louisiana, and he's allergic to shellfish (see the irony?????)
-he didn't get mad at me when I broke the Galileo Thermometer in his office
-he was a fair, smart, kind and funny boss
-he and his wife and three kids came to my family reunion in 2002 (to the auction)
-he didn't fire me when I opened an e-mail attachment that spread a virus to EVERYONE at Tripwire

So whatever you read on his site, you got the real scoop here.

*former, not elderly

Overhead in Edinburgh - 19 February 2004

Overhead while walking down Princes Street: "I always end up over-ambitiousizing," a super-humble confession by one over-ambitious gentleman to his duly impressed lady friend.

The New Job

Well the new job as a lecturer at Napier University (www.napier.ac.uk) is going 'grand', as the Irish would say. I'm teaching Publishing Management I and so far (in week 3) my students are delightful and good. They are, on the whole, very bright and interested. (Of course I have to say this because this information lives on the Internet and one of them might stumble upon it, when 'googling' my name.) So I feel this new connection to academia, as it were, has affected my ability to post silly and ridiculous and sometimes controversial things to my blog. So from now on I will be posting lecture notes.
Love,
The Teacher

Thank Goodness

Blogger has announced that they've updated the way the comments work, so you don't have to open a Blogger account to comment. So, comment away.

Update on My Niece's Vocabulary

My sister reports that Aila 'is still speaking Chinese, but now with a smattering of English words like "Bee," "No," "Hot," "Hat," "Apple," "Bird," "Ernie," (Sesame Street influence) "Shoe," "Back Pack," "Good Girl," and the inevitable "Mine!"'

A Royal Do

As you might have heard, Charles and Camilla are getting married on April 8. I, for one, am happy for them. I declined the invitation to be a bridesmaid. It's for the best, as the Queen was not particularly thrilled at the idea of having a Yank's mug on the commemorative mugs.

New Job

This Friday I start work at Napier University as a lecturer in Publishing Management. The students are second-year undergraduates. So I guess that means I have to start conducting myself like a teacher. When I was in sixth grade, I went to my friend Heidi's house, and she lived next door to Mrs. Biesendorfer, our teacher. And Mrs. Biesendorfer was wearing jeans! Teachers don't wear jeans.

Delayed Birth Announcement:

Maria Helena

born February 7, 1971

at Valley Presbyterian Hospital

to proud first-time parents

Peter and Irma Sandstrum

Happy 34th Birthday Maria!

Internationalityness

My sister, Maria, passes on the link below to words wonderful and foreign - to English speakers at least.

http://www.wordswithoutborders.org/article.php?lab=InOtherWords

Oh, and Happy Groundhog Day.

Polish-Style Potato Pancakes

Last night Ted made dinner. Platskis, I think. Potato pancakes they were. He called his wife to get the recipe: flour, eggs, onion, potatoes (grated), salt, pepper, fry in oil until yummy. (And until every dish in the house is coated in oil.) Mmmmmm.

Ted's English Skills

The Polish Flatmate, Ted, has mastered English. When you can make people laugh in a second language then you are fluent. And the other night, when we were playing cards and Paul was falling asleep, Ted said, "Paul is kaput." Now that's fluency.

Southfork

My flatmate Paul says that when he was younger his mom had a dress from the "Sue Ellen" collection. "She hasn't worn it in like 15 years," he said, unnecessarily.

Polish Lessons

Well, the English lessons for the Polish flatmate are coming along nicely. His vocabulary is steadily increasing, and he can now conjugate "to be" and "to have" in the present tense. We'll be reading Pride & Prejudice by March. I think he'll really identify with the Bennet sisters. Elizabeth Bennet, in particular.

This week I started Finnish classes. Two of the three other students speak better Finnish than I do, which is a definite plus. That way I can steal vocabulary from their brains. This week I learned the word "halla" which is Finnish for "summer night frost", which has been known to ruin a crop of grain, or two.

To make you smile

And now, on a lighter note.

Blogs aren't supposed to be sad

But my cousin Michelle died last night.

Michelle

My cousin Michelle, who is 32 years old, is in a coma in a hospital in Salem, Oregon. She suffered a massive stroke as a result of bacterial meningitis. She is on life support. Her liver is failing, she has a staph infection, and a heart murmur, and has suffered severe brain damage as a result of the stroke. Michelle has been a heroin user for many years. It has taken its toll on her body.

The Funniest Thing I Read Today

My friend Paul wrote this:

"A friend in need is a friend indeed. A friend in Gresham* is on his own, because I'm sure as hell not driving out to that @@@@hole to pick him up."

*Insert: Riverside or Leith, depending on where you live.

The Amazing Human Brain

I'm a big fan of the human brain. I currently have the pleasure of watching the human brain learn a foreign language. Paul and I are teaching our new flatmate English. "Ted" is a very eager student. Paul has taught him Ace, King, Queen, and Jack, and I have taught him the pronouns. "Cards are an international language," my mom said the other night on the phone. Indeed.

Peter-Marie

My sister is having another girl. She is expected to arrive mid May. So we have four months to decide on a name. And when I say 'we', I mean my sister and her husband, Hector. But that won't stop me from making suggestions.

Maria and Hector, when choosing the baby's name, should consider several things. The name should:

• sound good with their last name, Romero
• not 'clash' with the name of their first born, Aila (Layla, for example, would not be a wise choice.)
• reflect the baby's American/Finnish/Mexican heritage
• look good on a business card (in case the baby turns out to be Executive Material)
• honour as many relatives as possible

Of course the last point leads to the most hilarity. (See title.) This baby is related to people named: Ritva Maija-Liisa, Halsey Peter Pleasant, Nettie, Olavi Mattias, Selia, Poulette, Sarafia, to name just a few. We've had a good time coming up with combinations thereof. My favourite so far is Peter-Marie. My sister likes Peter Rose. (After my dad and his sister Rose Marie.)

PSL (Polish as a Second Language)

Paul and I have a new flatmate. His name is Ted. We think. But that's probably not his real name, because he's Polish, and it must be more exciting than Ted. He's been in Edinburgh since November, and he has a wife and two kids back in Poland. Ted is here to work and learn English, and send money back home.

These are some of the English words/phrases he knows:
zero
tea
good night
thank you
years
ashtray
May 2006

Good thing he brought a Polish/English dictionary and a phrasebook with him.

He is going back to Poland in May 2006 for his daughter's First Communion. That's a long time to be away from your kids.

Just finished reading . . .

Bringing Down the House: The Inside Story of Six MIT Students Who Took Vegas for Millions by Ben Mezrich

and

Hell's Angels by Hunter S. Thompson

Fame

In second grade Valerie S. came to school and told everyone her uncle owned Disneyland. And we all knew she was lying, mainly because she wore an off-the-shoulder blouse on picture day, which I thought was highly inappropriate, and also because she didn't have any free tickets. And then, for some reason, the other night at dinner my Dad asked Stuart, who was visiting from Scotland, if I had told him that my dad's brother's step-daughter's husband's half sister was Lynnette "Squeaky" Fromme, who tried to assasinate President Ford in 1975. No, hadn't come up.

Apparently cousin Lynnette, if I can call her that (or cousin Squeaky, which is more fun), is due to be released this coming September. At least that's the impression I got from the inmate fact sheet listing her vitals (her middle name is Alice), which gave 09/05/2005 as her 'Projected Release Date.' Hopefully Squeaky's not reading the date by the European method which would lead her to think that she were going to be released on May 9, 2005. Either way, she'll be out in time to attend the next Family Reunion. (It's scheduled for Hood River, July 2006. At the fairgrounds. Turn right if you're headed East on I-84 from Portland. If you turn left you'll be in the Columbia River!) Squeaky could donate some of her unique, acid-trip inspired embroidery to the auction at the Family Reunion. (All proceeds go towards paying for the next reunion.)

Entschuldigung??

So Prince Harry is in hot water because he dressed like a Nazi officer (in the desert uniform) at a friend's birthday party. (see http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/4170083.stm) Apparently the theme of the party was "native and colonial''. That's progressive. And who is still renting out Nazi desert uniform costumes??

The Funniest Thing I Heard Today

At lunch today, my friend and co-worker Robert told us that when he was 10 years old he called his younger sister a "German pig" and was sent to his room for "like two days."

rain rain rain rain

I was home for Christmas, in Southern California, and it rained and rained and rained and rained. And then I spent some time with my adorable niece and we watched it rain and rain and rain and rain. And then it kept raining and raining. And last night I got back to Edinburgh. And my mom called to say that they woke up and it was sunny.

Stay Tuned . . .

Soon to return to Edinburgh.
Have been in rainy Southern California.
My niece? Still a genius.

My Niece, the Genius

It's official, my niece, Aila, who is 15 months, 18 days old, is a genius. My mom has confirmed this. Apparently my mom was counting in Finnish and Aila repeated the numbers, in Finnish. Stop the presses: "Genius Baby Counts To Three, in Finno-Uric Language"

A Thousand Apologies

Dear Fans,

I've been busy. Work is hectic. And the Christmas season just places so many demands on you, socially, emotionally, financially, and, frankly, artistically. As Britney Spears once said, it's the 'hecticity' that really gets you.

Love,
The Artist

Some Hot Music

Below are some of the bands that EVERYBODY in the UK is listening to:

Franz Ferdinand
Scissor Sisters
Snow Patrol
Postal Service
Biffy Clyro
Kasabian
The Libertines

Just in case you were wondering...

The Perfect Present for the Reader

If you are a lover of Brits, and their humour (notice the 'u'), and fancy a wee tale about a Brit's misadventures in the U.S., may I recommend Toby Young's How To Lose Friends & Alienate People. True story. Hilarious. 'T'would make a great Christmas gift for that hard-to-buy-for-reader-who-likes-funny-memoirs-and-stories-of-British-and-American-culture-clashing.

(Mr. Paul Rollo, I'll save you the trouble of pointing out that 'American culture' is an oxymoron, to the Brits...who are too busy deep-frying 'cuisine')

The Return of the Scottish Weather

So we have had a lovely and mild Autumn here in Edinburgh. Today the Scottish weather has returned. It's wet and cold and windy. Some places can be like a wind tunnel. My co-worker Gillian told me that she had a friend at University who was very short and thin, and when it was windy in Glasgow she said she had to wear heavy shoes.

The Pressure of Hilarity

I feel extreme pressure to be hilarious every time I post to this blog. Therefore I haven't been posting lately. Frankly, I don't have anything hilarious to say. Or anything even remotely funny. Not that I'm sad, it's just that nothing uber-funny has happened.

I've always wanted my own humor column, and in a sense a blog is just that. And I've buckled under the pressure. I can't write a weekly column, let alone a daily one. How DID Erma Bombeck manage?

And the fact that *everyone* can read this kinda sometimes takes the fun out of writing. Because I have to censor what I write. For example, I can't write a poem about cats, because I might lose all my friends.

You know what I say to that?

Meow.

Finland Finland Finland

Happy Belated Birthday to Finland, who turned 87 on December 6.

This is what the CIA has to say about Finland.

Sandstrums Hit it Rich

I received this e-mail today:

Dear Sandstrum

It is my pleasure contacting you now, as I have longed to get in touch with anybody who knew Mr.Wilson Sandstrum, I am William Glashow (Esq.) United State citizen and the personal attorney to Wilson Sandstrum, who perished along with his family on the 01 FEB 1997 in a plane crash, the aircraft name is Hawker Saddled HS-748-353 Srs.2A.This crash happened in Tambacounda(Senegal) in Africa, and the registration number of the Aircraft is6AV-AEO.

My client had deposited about six Million, US. Dollars (6Million US Dollars)at the: STANDRAD TRUST BANK PLC, in west Africa, while working with an Oil Firm development center in west Africa as the head engineer. Since then, there had not been any trace of claim from any person, as the fund remains dormant in his account with the security company.

Although, I kept this information secret within my jurisdiction to enable me put claims and transfer the said amount through a trustworthy friend overseas whom I shall present to the bank as the bonfire next-of-kin to the deceased for a Profitable and successful project. Ever since I have been trying to locate the next of kin or any of the relatives to come forward and make this Claim, but to no avail. Please, if you are related to my client in any way or you know my client's actual relatives, re-contact me, so that
I can link them up to make the claim. But if you cannot contact them, you can come up and make the claim, because I do not want the money to be forfeited, as I expect to benefit from the Money also. Do consider this and get back to me. Thanks for your co-operation. Reply to my alternative email: (jayhg@mail2layer.com)

Sincerely.

William Glashow (Esq.).

PRINCIPAL ATTORNEY

LEVAN ASSOCIATES.


Here is my reply:

Dear Glashow,

First of all, no one addresses me as "Sandstrum". But I was hooked when I read that you have "longed to get in touch with" me. (I'll overlook the fact that the next word in that sentence was "anybody".)

Let me tell you why it's been so hard for you to locate any "bonfire next-of-kin": frankly, no one could stand old Uncle Wilson. As my dad would say, "he was a drunk." He'd show up for Thanksgiving, eat us out of house and home, tease the dog, steal the latest issue of Reader's Digest, break a lamp in the guest bedroom, and then head off again, presumably to Timbuktu.

Totally off the subject, I was confused by your phrase: "My client had deposited about six Million, US. Dollars (6Million US Dollars)." For clarity, I suggest you uncapitalize "Million" and practice consistency when punctuating "US". This sentence would read much better if it were written: "My client had deposited about six million dollars U.S. (US$6,000,000)."

And if there's a subject and verb in this incomplete run-on sentence, I'll be damned if I can find it: "Although, I kept this information secret within my jurisdiction to enable me put claims and transfer the said amount through a trustworthy friend overseas whom I shall present to the bank as the bonfire next-of-kin to the deceased for a Profitable and successful project."

So, just send us a cheque.

Sandstrum.

This is for my friend Johanna

She loves bubblewrap. Pop some here.

For a Laugh

See: Cat and dog sweaters

I read it in The Scotsman

From everyone's favourite newspaper, The Scotman, comes this headline:

Why festive shopping after 12:30 today equals trouble
Expert works out the exact moment it’s no longer fun to go hunting for those presents

To Do: Take Jewish Friends Off Christmas Card List

see above

Paris Hilton Trashes Paris Hilton

Didn't happen. But wouldn't it be great if Ms Paris Hilton stayed at the Hilton, in um, Paris, and then trashed it? More untrue headlines to come.

British Government Steals Passports

Not really, but I thought it would make a great headline.
More sensational headlines to follow.

Smokin' Pete Sandstrum

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

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

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

What would Freud say?

The Queen's English

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

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

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

I think the Queen would approve.

A Thanksgiving Greeting From My Family

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

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

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

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

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

Who Needs the G?

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

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

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

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

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving to all y'all.

The Mormon Pope

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

What Baby Cat?

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

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

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

Book List Continued

Recently read books:

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

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

A Clockwork Orange, by Anthony Burgess

Hire A Cousin

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

Graduation is Tomorrow

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

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

It's only a preview.

You Say Tomato

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

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

Giving Thanks Without Me

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

No Sara, I can't.

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

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

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

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

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

I welcome rebuttals. And white meat.

Remembrance Sunday

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

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

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

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

Did you know?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To Do:

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

In no particular order.

Visit Finland

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

Things To Do List

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

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

to be continued

Witch Doctors and Old Wives' Tales

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

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

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

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

"Ok, thanks," Maria told the Irma.

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

So she called the pediatrician.

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

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

It will lower her body temperature.

The Canadians Will Save US

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

Quotes and such

When did Jesus have time to learn carpentry?

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

Yes Paul, I suppose it is.

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

That Clown

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

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

She got mad at me.

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

So I repeated my line:

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

My mom got madder. She raised her voice.

"I am being practical and realistic."

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

Thank heavens I'm Finnish.

Finland in the News

It's not good news.

Election Mania

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

Tom Foolery

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

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