Poem for my Upstairs Neighbor

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

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

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

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

The Skirt of Many Colors

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

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

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

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

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

Off Center Piece

Kitty suffering under the house rules at Perth Street:












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

Dress Rehearsal

Kitty: What is it now?

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

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

A-L: I'm a perfectionist?

Kitty: Try again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Edinburgh v. San Francisco

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

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

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

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

Kitty: You read The Sun?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kitty: And?? Which is better?

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

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

Privacy

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

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

Carley: I'm three.

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

Carley: On my Birthday.

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

The Job Hunt - Day 300

A-L: I found the perfect job.

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

A-L: Good guess.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A-L: Pass.

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

A-L: Pass.

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

A-L: Define "strong".

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

A-L: Can you please restate the question?

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

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

San Francisco Tourist Attractions

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

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

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

Emma: You killed the 3rd Avenue Nutcracker?

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

Emma: How did you kill him?

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

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

A-L: He's made of fiberglass.

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

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

Premonition

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

Sister Maria: What were the angels doing?

Annais: Cleaning.

Raucous laughter from Sister Maria.

Happy Birthday, Sister Maria

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

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

A-L: Nancy Reagan was president?

Sister Maria: You're so predictable.

Signs

A-L: Hi Kitty, I miss you.

Kitty: Have you found a job yet?

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

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

A-L: Is that near Glasgow?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kitty: I never smoked.

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

Kitty: Then maybe the Obama family would want me.

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

San Francisco: Nutcrackers Welcome

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

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

Inspection

Sister Maria: Hi, what are you doing?

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

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

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

Sister Maria: Is Irma coming to visit??

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dispatch from the Field

E-mail from friend AC:

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

Dear AC,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your friend,
A-L

Was a Bit of a Fuzzy Line

Kitty: Hello?

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

Kitty: Are you calling collect?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kitty: Have you looked on Craigslist?

"Intellectual" Property

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

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

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

MWM: It was my idea.

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

Things Could be Worse

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

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

Are you hiring?

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

Dear Jobless Readers

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

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

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

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

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

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

Round One Elimination

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

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

No. One less cover letter to customize.

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

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

The Job Hunt (continued)

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

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

Here's what was really lurking behind this title:

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

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

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

San Francisco (Day 12) - Saturday, January 17

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

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

The Job Hunt

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

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

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

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

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

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

A-L: Here's another good one -

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

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

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

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

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

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

A-L: Kitty who?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm Pretending This Blog is Facebook

These are my Facebook status changes:

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

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

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

A-L's mother is Finnish.

San Francisco - Day 6 (Sunday)

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

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

Tourist man: It's a windmill.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tourist Lady: That's right.

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

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

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

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

The End.

Casting Call

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Birthday Ted

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

Reportez Vous from Paris

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

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

Dawn: Where's Oxnard? That sounds dreadful.

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

Dawn: That's Spanish.

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

Dawn: Uh, it translates as confit.

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

Dawn: Terrine is usually an hors d'œuvre.

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

Jess: Barack Obama started that rumour.

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

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

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

Guillaume: Ah, patchwork, I see.

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

*French for beau.

That Yellow Orb in the Sky

Irma: I have the cutest story to tell you.

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

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

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

--

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

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

A-L: She did say mostly Hydrogen.

Crumb-pets

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Early Birthday

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

















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

Report from Kindergarten

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aila: Mrs. Crum(b)(p)

A-L: Mrs. Crump?

Aila: No! Mrs. Crumb.

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

Aila (laughing): Yeah.

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

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

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

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

Product Launch

Annais: Mommy, I'm hungry.

Sister Maria: What would you like to eat?

Annais: A Gorilla bar.

True Story

Pete: Hello, this is Pete.

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

Pete: Yes, they had a good time.

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

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

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

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

A-L: What did they say?

Pete: Oink, oink.

L. Ron Gemma

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

Gemma: Why is no one speaking to us?

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

Gemma: No, that's not it.

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

Gemma: Great. Will Paul Auster be there?

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

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

Norette: Um, no.

LWTTTSATLBF: The reading's this evening.

Gemma: Will the author be there?

LWTTTSATLBF: No, he died in 1986.

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

*now known as "the Publishing Ladies"

Bus Trip

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

A-L: Where are you going?

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

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

Austrian 2: Uh...

Gemma to me: Someone stole his sense of humour.

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

Austrian 2: Uh...

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

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

Austrian 1: Uh.

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

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

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

Annais's Impersonation of a Fly

The Ted & Kitty Show

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

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

Ma Ria

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

Chu Lia

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

Unfortunately Julia’s leaving on Tuesday.

Menu Planning

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

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

Sister Maria: Can we get those really good Frankfurters?

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

Good News/Bad News

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

$1 to the writer of the best caption.

Sweetness to the One-Millionth Power

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

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

And then I melted...

Ninety, Two Hundred Ten

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

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

A-L: Of course I do.

I think it's near Melrose Plaice

Elusive Niece

Telephone Conversation with Annais:

A-L: Hi Annais.

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

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

Annais: 1-2-3-4

Ted at the Health Club

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

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

Ted: Jacuzzi? Fantastic.

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

Ted: 15 minutes.

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

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

Ted: 15 minutes. Ok?

A-L: Let's go now.

Ted: Shave first.

A-L: You can shave at the gym.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ted: Where get dressed?

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

Ted: Key?

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

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

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

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

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

Caroline & Dave's Baby

Welcome Anneke, aka "Big Dutch Baby".

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

For Gemma

Love, Kitty

Report from Coachella

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

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

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

Mommy: We will love you forever & ever too!

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

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

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

Mommy: Please stay a little bit longer.

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

Mommy: Where are you going to go?

~ long pause ~

Annais: I’m going to go to Costco.

Near Cat-astrophe

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

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

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

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

No answer.

A-L: Ted, can you help me?

Ted: Keys. Where are keys?

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

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

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

A-L: Let's go.

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

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

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

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

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

Vet: She's so affectionate.

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

Vet: Look at that sweet face.

A-L: That's a hologram.

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

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

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

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

Vet: See you next time. Bye Kitty.

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

Kitty now has her own set of keys.

Country Roads

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

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

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

The Raccoon Whisperer

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

A-L: Are these two events connected?

Caroline: Classic raccoon mob tactics.

A-L: Why get a possum involved?

Caroline: It's a ruse.

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

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

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

stay tuned...

The Cat Whisperer

Via Messenger (actual transcript):

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

Caroline: Great. We hired a cat therapist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A-L: Who's Fake Steve?

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Gospel According to Snoopy

In church, on Christmas Eve...

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

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

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

Insert raucous laughter from A-L and Sister Maria.

*A Charlie Brown Christmas

Car Talk with Irma, Aila & Annais

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

Irma: Hi Aila, how are you?

Aila: Hi Momma, I'm fine.

Irma: Did you have a good day?

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

Irma: What did you sing?

Aila: "Away in a Manger"

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

Carry On

A-L: Hello.

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

A-L: Who is this?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Name that Gourd

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

More English Lessons

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

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

A-L: See you later, alligator.

Ted: In a while, crocodile.

Geography

Report from Sister Maria:

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

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

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

I stand corrected.

Airport Journey

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

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

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

Ted, redeem yourself.

Mr. & Mrs. Squirrel Come to Town

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don't forget about Brandon Hein

http://www.brandonhein.com/

Demotion

Telephone conversation with Pete...

Pete: Good morning, Pete Sandstrum

A-L: My name's not Pete Sandstrum. But good morning nonetheless. What's up?

Pete: Not much, just doing some paperwork.

A-L: Is that a code word for spider solitaire?

Pete: Hold on, one my seven phones is ringing.


Telephone conversation in the background...

Pete: Good morning, Pete Sandstrum.

(character off stage)

Pete: Yeah, hold on. I've got somebody on the other line. Let me lose that call.

Funftzen Minutes of Fame

Two weeks ago, telephone conversation with Sister Maria...

Maria: I'm so excited, more Germans are coming to the hotel.

A-L: Do you want me to get the heavy artillery?

Maria: What's wrong with you? You've been in Britain too long. Have you forgotten how much we love the Germans? Have you forgotten the wonderful childhood we had in Germany (sponsored by G.E.)?

A-L: No, Maria. Of course not. I still walk up to Germans and thank them for hosting us from 1979-1982, and for manufacturing gorgeous cars, and making kitchen cabinets that work. My new food processor is German. It's a work of art. So who are these Germans?

Maria: They're my colleague's clients. I can't wait to speak German to them. There'll be Germans everywhere at the hotel!

A-L: It's your fondest wish. I'm so jealous. Please tell all of them I say hello. Individually.


One week ago, telephone conversation with Peter:

Peter: Maria's going to be in that German T.V. show.

A-L: Maria who? Schriver?

Peter: No, the other Maria. The baby Irma and I had four years before you. The nice one.

A-L: OUR Maria? What German T.V. show?

Peter: She described it as a German version of The Love Boat. She had a speaking part. In German.


Two days ago, telephone conversation with Sister Maria...

Maria: Ohmigosh. You won't believe it. Remember I told you about the Germans who were descending on the hotel? Well, they were a production company. Filming a German T.V. show "Das Traumschiff", and I started speaking to them in German, and they gave me a very small part in this episode.

A-L: Old news. Peter already told me. But that's very cool.

Maria: I had to interrupt a meeting and say, "Herr Direktor Ludwig, Ich brauche sie dringend!". (Director Ludwig, I need you urgently.) They film the show in exotic locations all over the world, like Botswana, and Sri Lanka, and Indian Wells.

Yesterday, conversation with Ted...

A-L: My sister was an extra on a German T.V. show.

Blank look from Ted.

A-L: My sister works at a hotel, and there were...

Ted (interrupting): Oh, hotel. Very good. Where does your grandbrother work?

Broken Ted

Outside the flat, Friday evening, after walking home from work I see Ted at the front door, struggling with the key...

A-L: Hi Ted. Are you ok? Why are you having trouble opening the door?

Ted (if he could speak fluent English): I have a gaping wound on my left thumb because the glass panelled door to my bedroom came off its tracks and fell towards me and sliced my thumb open.

Ted: Nothing. I am ok.

A-L: Ted, there's blood everywhere. Your thumb looks awful. We're going to the hospital.

Ted: No.

A-L: Yes, we're going to the hospital.

Ted: NO!

A-L: Umm, I'm in charge of you. Your mom said so. It's not your decision. We're going to the hospital. And, you're getting blood everywhere. Don't get blood on Kitty. She's Dry Clean Only.

Ted: No.

A-L: Ten minutes. Give me ten minutes and I'll be ready to go.

Ted: No.

Justyna and Chris (whose Polish name I can't spell) walk in. Justyna had been looking for Ted, who fled the scene when there were threats of going to the hospital. Chris had bandages with him.

Half an hour later, at Western General Hospital...

Paramedic: Hello, please come this way.

Chris, Ted and I walk over.

Paramedic: Um, do I need all three of you?

A-L: Yes. Ted doesn't speak English fluently, so Chris can translate into Polish, and I'm in charge.

Paramedic (to Ted): Where did this happen?

Ted: Polish.

Raucous laughter from Chris and A-L.

A-L: At our flat.

Paramedic (still making eye contact only with Ted): Are you allergic to any medication?

Ted: 32 years old.

More raucous laughter.

Chris translates, and it turns out Ted's severely allergic to bees. Or wasps. Which aren't strictly a 'medication' as such, but it's handy to know.

Two x-rays later, the verdict is there's no glass embedded in his hand. And then we all get a lesson in tendons (Ted's might be 'nicked', to quote the paramedic), and find out we have to go to the Royal Infirmary, where a hand specialist can look at it.

Chris explains this to Ted, who doesn't want to go to the Royal Infirmary. He doesn't want stitches. He doesn't want to miss work. Ted's on a temporary contract, and doesn't get paid for sick leave. We tell the paramedic that Ted is refusing. So he brings out a book that shows the tendon. And then tells us he's booked a taxi to take us there. The NHS is paying for the taxi. Chris tells Ted this news. And suddenly, Ted's fine with having to go to the Royal Infirmary.

Ted: Taxi, free?

More raucous laughter.

The waiting room at Accident & Emergency at the Royal Infirmary is full. Good thing I brought magazines. And an apple, which the three of us share. Two hours later, Dr. Zoe calls us through. Which leads to more explanations about why Ted has two 'minders' with him: Chris, who can helpfully translate into Polish, and then back to English, and A-L, who can loudly repeat what Dr. Zoe and/or Chris said.

Dr. Z numbs Ted's thumb, digs around a bit, and then calls for a second opinion from another doctor (who subsequently poked himself in the thumb with a needle, "for the first time in my career" - not while tending to Ted - but that's a whole new post), and then another doctor. They decide someone from 'ortho' needs to look at it. Or someone from 'plastics'. So Dr. Z walks out of the room.

Ted: Can we go?

More raucous laughter.

A-L: Ted, one more doctor.

So I divide my time eavesdropping on the 'situation' in the partition to the left of Ted's, where two policeman are questioning a man; the partition on the right of Ted's, where a girl with a 'strained muscle' is wasting the doctor's time, the NHS's money, and depriving someone who's really hurt of a room, because she wants crutches (she ends up being able to walk out of the hospital, unaided); and the doctor's station across from Ted, where the fumbly doctor who accidentally anesthetized his own thumb is on the phone explaining what happened.

And then Dr. Z reappears, doesn't mention the doctor from 'ortho' or 'plastics' who never showed up, and sets about fixing Ted's hand.

Three taxi rides, one apple, two magazines, two x-rays, four medical personnel (one now with a numb thumb), and nine stitches later, we're back at home. And this morning, Ted got up and went to work.

4 years old

Tomorrow is Aila's 4th birthday. In the immortal words of Sara Checkal, "can you even??" No. I can't.

A-L: Pete, can you believe Aila is going to be four years old?

Pete: Yes.

A-L: No, but can you believe it?? I mean, the time has flown by. She's been with us for four years. Can you believe it?

Pete: Yes. She was born in 2003. It's 2007.

A-L: No, you're not understanding. I know the numbers add up, it's just that I can't believe she's four already. She's a little girl.

Pete: Do you remember where you were on your fourth birthday?

A-L: Presumably with you and Irma and Maria?

Pete: Yes, but in which city?

A-L: Is it north and west of Walla Walla? It's not Othello, is it?

Pete: No, it's east, and slightly north of Walla Walla. (editor's note: I checked the latitude)

A-L: Do you have a cousin who lives there?

Pete: No.

A-L: That narrows it down. Give me a hint.

Pete: We were in Liege, Belgium, at the Holiday Inn. But it was a nice Holiday Inn.

A-L: That was my fifth birthday. I've always told people that I turned five in Beligum.

Pete: Nope, it was your fourth birthday. And how do you manage to slip that into conversation? "Oh, you're going to Dublin? Well, I turned four in Belgium."

A-L: Five. I turned five in Belgium. Where's Irma? She can verify.

Pete: I don't need Irma to verify this. I was there. I know how old you were. I was one of the people in charge of you at that time. And Irma's not here. Gosh, I can't believe it was so long ago. It seems like yesterday you were four years old.

A-L: It wasn't yesterday. It was 1980, when I turned five in Liege, and now it's 2007. It all adds up.

Pete: Happy Birthday Aila.

Delivery

Ted: Hello?

A-L: Hi Ted. I'm having a mattress delivered to the flat. Will you please answer the door when the delivery man rings the bell?

Ted: What?

A-L: Mattress. Man will come to the door. (And then I made a buzzing noise to signify the, uh, door buzzer.) Please say, 'ok, come in.' Is that ok?

Ted: Matches?

A-L: Yes. I'm having matches delivered. It's a niche market, but I'm the niche. Will you help the man carry all of the matches up the stairs, one by one? No. It's a new bed. Will you open the door?

Ted: New bed? Ohhhh! Ok.

And then he hung up on me.

Guess

Telephone conversation with Pete two days ago...

Pete: You'll never guess where my company is installing a machine.

A-L: You're probably right. Give me a hint. Is it in the U.S.?

Pete: Yes. And I have a cousin who lives there.

A-L: You have 48 cousins. Umm, Yuba City?

Pete: Tipton lives in Live Oak, not Yuba City. And no, that's not the answer. Farther north. Way farther north.

A-L: Walla Walla?

Pete: No. And I don't think I have any cousins who live in Walla Walla proper. North and west of Walla Walla.

A-L: Spokane?

Pete: That's northeast of Walla Walla. What's wrong with you?

A-L: Umm, Olympia?

Pete: No.

A-L: That's a shame, because Cousin Danny has a boat.

Pete: It's between Olympia and Spokane.

A-L: Othello!

Pete: Yup.

A-L: Have you told Cousin Darla??

Pete: No. Not yet. But I probably won't go there, now that I'm doing a new job at the company. And they're not installing the machine for ages.

A-L: Well, that was a great game.

Credit or Debit?

Last weekend Annais was at the Ventura County Fair with Maria, Aila, Pete and Irma. This is her first pony ride. If you look at the pixilated close-up (left) you can see what looks like a credit card in her pocket. What up with that??

Glowbot Kitty

This photo has not been altered. This is Kitty as seen through the lens of Sara's digital camera.

Cat for sale.

Smelly Cat or Scented Kitty

Ted bought an automated air freshener dispenser that looks remarkably like a piece of internet-related equipment, maybe, which is why I didn't realise what it was until it sprayed into my face/mouth. This dispenser (which sprays every 18 minutes) sits on a little shelf in our hallway above the chair that Kitty often sleeps in. So she smells like faux flower mountain fresh air now.

Psychoanalysis

Maria overheard Aila playing with some little wooden animals. The giraffe was the bad guy. He locked the lion, zebra and elephant in the dungeon (a Kleenex box), and then Maria heard the giraffe say, "Ok, now I'm going to pay some bills."

Maria: Do I represent the evil, bill-paying giraffe in this scenario??

A-L: No, you're totally one of their horses. The mother horse. The one that's Aila's favourite.

Maria: You mean the old grey mare? What are you trying to say?

A-L: No, no, the black beauty. The mother horse. And if it's any consolation, I think I'm the doll that sleeps by the handbags.

Fun With English

The other morning I heard Ted and Justyna having what seemed like a very serious conversation. It was 8:30 a.m., and Justyna was half asleep, so I interrupted...

A-L: Are you ok?

Ted: tennis problem

A-L: Whuh? Tennis problem?? I don't understand.

And then Ted mimed a gentle back-hand over the imaginary net in Justyna's room. Can you get tennis elbow working at the Sheraton? Did he not qualify for Wimbledon? Did he lose his sweatbands? What possible "tennis problem" could Ted have?

Ted: Ping-pong table. Problem.

Turns out he ordered a ping-pong table for his kids, Angela and Patrick, from the Polish equivalent of eBay, and they weren't going to allow Ted to pay on delivery. Tennis problem.

Checkal-Ecker

Dear Sara and Brad,

Many, many congratulations on your engagement. Will you hyphenate, Sara Checkal-Ecker? Or, will you create a new lastname, Brad Checkaler?

Happy Happy Day.

Much love from Edinburgh.

O'Dark Thirty

A-L: Peter, would you mind using the voucher I have to book me a flight from LA to Portland?

Peter: No problem. When do you want to fly?

A-L: Friday morning, returning Monday morning.

Later...

Peter: I got your flights booked. You leave Oxnard at 5:30am on Friday.

A-L: Umm, isn't that technically still Thursday night?

Irma: Oh, it's fine. I take your father to the airport all the time for that early flight.

A-L: Is he in his pajamas? Do you dress him while he's asleep in his car seat?

Irma: I can put your coffee in a bottle.

Peter: Your flight lands in Portland at 9:00am.

A-L: Is the Portland airport open that early? Will this give me jet lag?

Later...

Irma: What time do you want your father to wake you up tomorrow morning?

A-L: I'm 32. I might be able to set an alarm for myself, but if a wake-up call is included in the package deal, have Peter wake me at 4:30.

Peter: 4:30? We need to be leaving at 4:30.

A-L: Don't start this again.

Peter: How long does it take you to get ready?

A-L: At that time of night, about 17 minutes.

Peter: I'll wake you at 4:00.

A-L: Or you could wake me at 17 minutes before 4:30, whatever time that is.

Later, in the car on the way to the airport, somehow the topic of conversation drifted to the Vietnam War...and this is all I remember

Peter: LBJ micro-managed the Vietnam War.

There you have it.

Trump Card

My sister overheard Aila and Annais playing dolls. This is what went down:

Aila's Doll: Ok, I'm Mom AND Gloria. (Gloria is their babysitter.)

Annais's Doll: Ok, I'm Daddy.

Game over.

E-mail from Maria

Subject line: Conversation in the car last night

Mommy & Daddy talking with each other...

Aila: "Mommy, what is the name of the little monkey that hangs on the giraffe?"

Mommy (aka Maria): "I don't know baby, what is it called?"

Aila: "It has a really long tail and it's really small."

Mommy: "I'm sorry Aila, I don't know its name."

Aila: (matter-of-factly) "Oh, its the Pygmy Marmoset."

Mommy & Daddy, beaming with pride, burst out laughing because neither of us knows what that is!!!

I Googled it this morning to find out that it is indeed very small (the smallest primate) and it does have a very long tail.

Search

I'm on a mission to find - but not necessarily contact - as many people as I can from my 8th grade class, via Google.

One down. Hand on heart, Wendell looks the same as he did in 1988.

Arts & Krauts

A-L: Hi Aila, what are you doing?

Aila: Arts and krauts. I'm colouring.

Maria: Whenever she says 'arts and krauts' I picture a bunch of German soldiers wearing those Kaiser Wilhelm hats, sitting around a table colouring.

Story Time (with Aila)

I was reading a book to Annais, and Aila was playing nearby.

This is what should have happened:

A-L, pointing to a bird/parrot in the book: What's this, Annais?

Annais: Bird.

A-L: Very good. It's a bird. It's called a parrot.

Annais: Parrot.

This is what really happened:

A-L: What's this, Annais?

Radio silence from Annais.

A-L: What is it Annais? Is it a bird?

Aila: Oh, that's a scarlet macaw. It's one of my favourite birds.

Radio silence from Anna-Lisa.

Confrontation

A-L: I have a question. Actually my friend Caroline wants me to ask you something.

Ted: What?

A-L: Are you really David Coverdale, of Whitesnake fame?

Ted: Yeah, that's actually why Paul moved out. He hates Whitesnake.

Fun with Mullet Wig (and Ted)

And the 'money' shot:

Moveable Airports

4 days ago...

Pete: I see you've booked yourself another round of rookie flights back to Edinburgh.

A-L: No, it's fine. I have a friend in Cincinnati who might come see me at the airport, and I'm hoping to meet Dawn in Paris for a coffee before my flight to Edinburgh.

Pete: I hope your 'friend' in Cincinnati likes Kentucky, because that's where the airport is.

A-L: Shirley, you jest.

Pete: The Cincinnati airport is in Northern Kentucky. Look it up. But it's just across the river.

A-L: What river? So where was WKRP?

Pete: And I don't think it's a good idea to leave the airport in Paris. It'll take you longer than you think to get into town, and you'll have a heckuva time going back through security.

A-L: It's amazing that I survive alone in Scotland.

Pete: Your mother prays A LOT.

A-L: So are you taking me to the airport?

Pete: Yeah, I'm going to East Texas for work.

4:30 a.m. the morning of departure...

Irma: Your father has to repack his suitcase. He forgot it was winter in East Texas.

A-L: What season did he think it was? Does this mean I have to wait for him to execute a complete wardrobe change? Does he know Colorado just got hit by another blizzard? I heard they're airlifting food to cattle stranded in the snow. And Pete's packed linen trousers?

Pete (shouts from the other room): I'm not going to Colorado. I'm going to East Texas. Oklahoma protects it from Colorado.

At the airport...

After security, I realise I left my winter coat in the rental car that my dad was going to turn in. I make my way to the gate, then consider calling my dad's cell phone from the pay phone, and decide just to head to the lounge.

Lady at the desk, after I show my boarding pass: Your dad is looking for you. He has your coat. He's waiting downstairs for you.

So I go back to the front, and find my dad, who says someone took my coat to the gate.

A-L (sheepishly): Thanks.

So I go back through security, and to the gate, and retrieve my coat. Then back to the lounge.

Lady at the desk: Oh good, you got your coat.

A-L: Yeah, I wonder why my parents treat me like I'm 11 years old, and then I leave my coat in the rental car.

Lady at the desk: Oh, I bet your mom prays for you, a lot.

Just like the stigmata

There, in the mirror, between Dawn's two heads, appears Paul Auster. For his fans, it will be crystal clear that it's the man himself.

Emir

I met Emir in Cincinnati, waiting for the flight to Paris. He's 14 years old, and was travelling from Portland, Oregon with his uncle, going back home to Istanbul.

Emir and his uncle bickered like brothers. But in a kind-hearted way. Mostly about semantics.

Emir told me a joke. The punchline was "because he was looking for Pooh."

I told Emir a riddle. And after 20 seconds he asked "What would the answer be?" More arguing about semantics.

And when Emir's uncle went to charge his mobile phone, Emir left him a note saying he had gone to meet a friend in Cincinnati and wasn't travelling back to Turkey with him. I wish I'd taken that note.

"You fell for it," he told his uncle.

"No, I didn't," his uncle said.

(Replay above dialogue 10 times.)

Emir showed me all 178 photos on his phone. Most were of his dogs, and a school trip to Helsinki, for a softball tournament.

And then Emir asked me about the Napa Valley. And after a visit to the buffet, he held up a fork with a grape on the middle tine and said, "THIS is why we want to go to California."

And then Emir was concerned that the Frankfurt flight which was leaving at the same time as our flight was boarding first. He wanted to know why. And kept asking why? why? why?

So I told him it's because the Germans are very organised, and before I could say more he said, "We're German."

"Gut, dann können wir Deutsch sprechen," I replied.

"Oops, we're not German," he said.

And then he asked me what my dad does for a living. I told Emir he owns the Cincinnati airport.

No, actually, he installs and fixes medical equipment.

"With a screwdriver?"

"Yes, and nothing else."

I wish I could write about Emir more eloquently. He was so kind and smart and mischevious, and more polite than any other 14-year-old. And he made the 5-hour layover in Cincinnati fly by.

Remembrance

2 days ago...

Maria: Why is the flag at the Civic Center at half mast?

A-L: James Brown died.

Maria: Was he from Coachella?

A-L: No, but he was the godfather of soul.

24 hours later...

Maria: I just heard that Gerald Ford died, in Rancho Mirage.

A-L: Oh, wow. I wonder if they'll put the flags at half mast for him too? How do they handle that situation, when two famous people die so closely together?

Maria: Maybe they'll put the flags at quarter mast.

A-L: Do you think James Brown would be annoyed if he knew that Gerald was stealing his thunder, as it were? I read in People magazine that they were bitter rivals.

Maria: Wasn't President Ford's wife an entrepreneur?

A-L: Yeah, she ran a chain of clinics.

Maria: Jenny Craig? She's quite a bit younger than President Ford.

another 24 hours later...

Maria: If you come meet me for lunch, be sure to avoid Miles Boulevard. It's closed for the memorial service.

A-L: James Brown's?

Overheard

I'm staying at Maria and Hector's. The following phrases have been said in the last week:

"Don't put that in your mouth. That's not a straw. It's a pinwheel."

"Annais threw up on him."

"No, that's Puppy Puppet. Put Puppy Purse next to Bibbit."

"Did I tell you that Annais threw up on me at J.C. Penney?"

Philly

Pete: I've e-mailed you the itinerary for your flight home.

A-L: Yeah, I got an e-mail from you. But you sent the wrong itinerary

Pete: I just forwarded the one I received from United.

A-L: No, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have booked the itinerary I received.

Pete: No, I've double checked, it's the right one. Irma wanted you to pick up some German Christmas decorations in Frankfurt, and a Liberty Bell magnet for Maria in Philadelphia.

A-L: Oh, so that's why I have two stops between Edinburgh and Los Angeles. I thought it was a mistake.

Pete: No, no. I figured two and a half hours in Frankfurt was enough time to shop for decorations, and three hours in Philadelphia would give you plenty of time to buy the right magnet.

Auster-Doyle Rears Its Spooky Head

Back in the beginning of November the Publishing Ladies* were in Paris to celebrate Jess's birthday. One of the key Publishing Ladies was missing: the Irish-Belgian Abu Dhabi Gemma. (She's the one who suffers from Auster-Doyle syndrome. Which sometimes manifests itself as Auster-Doyle-Smith syndrome. See previous posts.) She's working in Abu Dhabi on a conference on human trafficking, and apparently couldn't sacrifice a weekend for frivolity in Paris.

So, on Saturday night we were out at a restaurant to fete the birthday girl, and who should be sitting at the table next to us? Yes, Paul Auster. Playing the role of Gemma. Coincidence? Perhaps. Probably not. Who knows? Not me.

So, we decided to do the "I'm from L.A. and I see celebrities all the time and I leave them alone" thing, so we took photos of each other, hoping that he'll appear in the background. I will certainly post them when they're developed. What if Roddy Doyle appears in the background?

*Ladies who have/have had a tenuous link to the publishing industry.

Possessive-Definite Articles

Ted: What is the name of your friend, we went to Arthur's Seat?

A-L: My friend from Portland? Who came to visit? Gavin is his name.

And then Ted made a gesture, putting his hand to his heart, to indicate that Gavin is either:
a) one of his 'homies'
b) a really nice person

Ted: Gavin is a very good man.

A-L: Yes, he's very nice.

Ted: He's my the best friend.

A-L: Six months ago you told me that I was your the best friend.

Ted: I lied.

Vocab

Franch: Ted's word for 'French' or 'France'. Or both, at once.

Usage note: "You go on holiday to Franch?"

English Lesson 335

I've taught Ted the following song, which we (ok, I) sing almost every morning in the kitchen when I'm heading out to work, and he's coming back from the night shift, drenched:

Rain, rain
Go away
Come again
some other day

Family Friends

A couple months ago Aila was looking at pictures from Maria and Hector's wedding, and she saw me in the line-up. So this is what happened next...

Aila (pointing to A-L): Mommy, is that your friend Anna-Lisa?*

Maria: No, I don't know who that is. I think she was with the photographer.

Aila: But she visits us twice a year, and always stays about three days too long. I think Daddy said she was your sister.

Maria: I think you're mixing her up with someone. I'm an only child. I don't know that woman you're pointing at.

Aila: When I'm older, can I tell people I don't know who Annais is?

Annais: I already tell people that you're a family friend.

*this is the only factual line of the story.

More ESL Fun

So Ted's English continues to improve. This of course takes some of the fun out of living with him, but there are still a few gems that crop up now and again. The other day, Ted confused 'barbeque' and 'manicure'. How these words have crept into his vocabulary I'm not sure, but the fact that he switched them delighted all within earshot.