If I Had Spoken to My Arkansas Correspondent

A-L: Hi, since I haven't had a chance to speak to you, I'm going to make up a conversation we've had.

Caroline: Fair enough.

A-L: As the Portland-based Arkansas correspondent for this blog, I'd like to hear your take on why red-winged blackbirds are falling out of the sky in Arkansas.

Kitty: Old news.

A-L: Sister Maria and I are inclined to believe the Presbyterians are behind this, of course.

Caroline: Fair enough.

A-L: Is that polite Southern talk for "no comment"?

Caroline: No. I'm just pondering the evidence.

A-L: While you're pondering, can you help us with the pronunciation of the town now covered in dead red-winged blackbirds? It's Beebe, Arkansas. Would one say "bee-bee" or "beeb"?

Caroline: No comment on the pronunciation. As for the birds, turns out some fool set off professional-grade fireworks which scared them.

Emergency Preparedness

Yesterday I travelled home on the N-Judah with a très pregnant colleague. Our train was stuck for about 10 minutes in one of the stations.

Pregnant Colleague: I wish they had a better contingency plan for when these things happen.

So of course I'm thinking about escape routes, or alarms, or an announcement system.

P.C.: They should come around and serve us ice cream.

Neighbors

Dana: I haven't been getting very much sleep lately.

A-L: What ails you?

Dana: Have I told you about the unicorn upstairs?

A-L: No, indeed you have not. Tell all.

Dana: Well, there's a new "person" living in the room above mine. Lots of noise, at night. I've gone upstairs to introduce myself, and to express my concern about the noise. And this "person" is never home.

A-L: Ah, yes. I'm familar with upstairs neighbors. What makes you think it's a unicorn?

Dana: There's lots of prancing about. I can hear the clip-clopping of hooves. And it keeps odd hours. Tell-tale signs. Others have confirmed it sounds like a unicorn.

A-L: Well I'll be. I'd love to bring my nieces over. I'm sure they'd be *thrilled* to meet a unicorn.

Dana: I'll see if we can arrange a pot luck.

Who Knows...

...what tomorrow brings? But today brings furniture.

Packing for a Trip to the Colonies

Oh to know the provenance of this British toiletpaper roll that somehow made its way to the Goodwill store on Clement, in San Francisco (where I left it).

Mary: But Alistair, it's the Colonies. It's best to be prepared.

When Dogs Paint

Christmas Blessings of Sorts

We celebrated Christmas here with a Hot Luck. (Sound familiar? It's a pot-luck perfected by PDX Dave.) Spicy food and drink was the theme. I made deviled eggs, which brought this surprise.

Twins.

Dana: Where did that egg come from?

A-L: A chicken.

(Insert existential chicken/egg loop here.)

And then a friend of semi-half faux Scottish extraction brought this delight:

A-L: Be still my heart. Is that an Irn Bru? Where did you get that?

Scottish(ish) friend: One of the Irish stores.

(Insert existential Scottish/Irish loop. If you know of one.)

Christmas-time Sky in San Francisco

San Francisco at Christmas-time... In case you need another reason to come visit, dear friends in Scotland, and other cold/rainy climes.

San Francisco Competitive Parenting, Quarterfinals

SF Parent #1: Does your nanny only speak Spanish with your child?

SF Parent #2: No.

SF Parent #1: Oh, that's too bad. A missed opportunity.

SF Parent #2: But the funny thing is, the cat is terrified of the vacuum cleaner, and she can't tell the nanny and housekeeper apart, so she's scared of both of them.*

SF Parent #1: Oh, I see.

SF Parent #2: Yeah. We're teaching the cat Spanish, so she can distinguish between the two.

*This is a bonus story.

A Metaphor??

Yesterday all Christmas items were 30% off at the Salvation Army. (If you receive a slightly yellowed-with-age Christmas card from me, you'll know where it came into my possession.) This handsome nativity set (above) appears to be a bargain at $25. Even cheaper after the discount. (I'm not good at word problems, so I'll leave it the mathematicians to calculate the final price.)

But if you look closely, you'll see a key, er, figure is missing. Yes, dear reader, no Baby Jesus. I have a couple theories.

A. It's part of a new "Where's Baby Jesus?" franchise.

B. It's a metaphor for our times, where people have truly lost sight of "the reason for the season".

C. Sorry Caroline, but there's always the possibility that the giraffe-stealing Presbyterians have him.

And then my friend pointed out that the Jesus slot in the package is the same size as a Ferrero Rocher. Which could be used in a pinch as a substitute.

Overheard, Part XV

Overheard, two people on a lunch break: Well, it's going to be interesting to see what happens...

Translations: Well, it's going to suck.

WoW from PSP

"Words of Wisdom from Public Safety Pete" is the theme of the day.

Yesterday I phoned PSP and Irma to check on the progress of "The Great House Painting of 2010."

A-L: How's the house painting going?

PSP: We've hit a snag.

A-L: Tell me more.

PSP: It's raining. And there are two things you don't do in the rain: paint, and pour concrete.

A-L: Wow, just two.

Define: Bonus Story

Yesterday PSP reported that he and Irma are getting the house painted. The last time such a thing happened was in 1986, when Mr. Reinhardt, the 4th grade teacher at my elementary school, painted "the Somis house" (as we call her).

PSP: We're getting the house painted.

A-L: Cool, is Mr. Reinhardt still spending his school vacations painting houses?

PSP: Don't think so.

A-L: Do you remember when he painted the Somis house?

PSP: Sure do. And you better believe the painter heard all about it today.

A-L: Wow, he unlocked a bonus story.

(A bonus story is a story not entirely relevant to the situation at hand, and/or not interesting to the listener. Often can be totally irrelevant, and leads to a story set in Finland. It's a conversation feature perfected by some of our family members, who are Finnish, and sisters, and over the age of 70. Although they've been practicing the art of the bonus story since their youth. Not age related. No known treatment.)

PSP: Yes, he sure did. And I see him unlocking a few more bonus stories over the next couple days.

A-L: Did you advise him that the method for "disarming" the bonus story is to answer the question "Have I told you about xxxxx?" with "Yes"?

PSP: Yes. I mean, no.

Sisters...and Regifting

Look at this special ornament I found at the Salvation Army. (I left it there.)

It says "Sisters share a special Love 1995". I imagine it has a tiny footnote that says "even if you give away this special gift without opening it."

Merry Almost Christmas, Sister Maria.

The Emperor Penguin Had No Shoes

Sister Maria was "helping" Aila and Annais clean up the guest room, when she stumbled upon a village of characters. This tiny dorf was inhabited by toy horses, and unicorns, and this fancily clad fellow:

I call this piece "Penguin in Heels". We took him back home, as he didn't look up for the long walk from the guest room back to the girls' room. Somebody forgot to pack his walking shoes.

Some Bunny

Some bunny is NOT happy to be at the Goodwill store on Fillmore in San Francisco. Look at that face. I'm not sure why she's holding a rope? Any ideas?

The Toyota Camry

Last night the Dog-Father drove me to my Camry, which had been strategically parked for over a week.

A-L: Please don't drive away. I'm not entirely confident it will start.

The Camry starts up, and sounds a bit, er, groggy.

A-L: Sounds good, huh?

D-F: Yes, perfect. Purring like a kitten.

A-L: A kitten that's been drinking whisky.

Kitty: A glass of Laphroaig for me, please.

Dorkbook

PWR, my blog muse, and I were sitting in a cafe. PWR is looking down at his phone.

A-L: What in heaven's name are you doing?

PWR: Being anti-social. I mean, checking Foursquare.

A-L: Is that a Pentacostal church locator?

PWR: No, it's like Facebook. I'm "checking in" so other users know my location.

A-L: Um, you've travelled halfway around the world to visit friends here in the Bay Area, and now you're squandering your valuable face-to-face time with them "checking in" on some web site, so the friends you left behind in Scotland know where you are?

PWR: Uh huh. And whoever checks in the most on Foursquare

A-L: Is the biggest dork?

PWR: Close. Is named the mayor.

A-L: Let me guess, you're the biggest dork.

PWR: And the mayor.

A-L: So, what's the idea?

PWR: The idea is that you can find other Foursquare members in the same location, and connect with them.

A-L: Instead of "connecting" with the person you're ostensibly there to visit?

PWR: Yes.

A-L: I liked it better when it was a Pentacostal Church locator.

Kitty: Already exists.

Q is For Kindergarten Homework

Every week, Annais's kindergarten class celebrates, if you will, a different letter of the alphabet. This week's letter is H.

Sister Maria: I'm not looking forward to week Q.

A-L: Pourquoi?

Sister Maria: Well, Annais has to find pictures that illustrate that letter, and write the word next to the picture. And Q is a tricky one. So during your magazine perusals, if you see a picture that starts with Q, please tear out that page.

A-L: I don't suppose Annais knows how to spell Quixotic.

Sister Maria: She'll learn. Did you find a picture that illustrates it?

A-L: Uh, I don't really know what it means. But I did find another Q image.

Sister Maria: Which one?

A-L: It's a picture of the Vietnamese jungle.

Sister Maria: I don't follow.

Annais: It's Q, for Quagmire.

Public Transportation

The joys of riding public transportation in San Francisco are many. Just yesterday evening I overheard this conversation:

John: My dad owns a metal working company, and he's just hired this guy who he worked with 18 years ago.

Jane: Really?

John: Yeah. But there's something not right about him. He worked as a dishwasher for a few years.

Jane: Your dad?

John: No, the guy.

Jane: Oh.

John: And I think he was in a gang for a while.

Jane: Your dad?

Folks, I couldn't make this up. And then this morning, on the N-Judah, embarking at the Powell Street Station:

Man 1: Don't push me.

Man 2: I'm not.

Man 1: Don't push me again. If you push me again...

Man 2: What's your problem?

Man 1: Don't push me.

And then there was a stare down, which got really uncomfortable. Namely because they were two software engineer(y) looking types, neither of whom would fare well in a fist fight.

Question: What's worse than two 30-somethings acting like 11-year-olds?

Answer: Two 40-somethings acting like 11-year-olds.

And then the 40-year-olds got off at the same stop and crossed the street to go into the Google building.

Matchmaking

I don't blog about dating, unless it's about the dating adventures of friends who are now married. Namely, my friend who shall remain nameless. When I met him, he was 36, or 34, and dateless. He casually mentioned that he owned a scale model of the Starship Enterprise. I suggested that he not tell prospective dates that. Ever. I also reminded him that, in order to own a scale model of something, an original must have existed. (He disputes that we had this conversation, and that he ever owned such a thing...now that he's happily married to one of my very funny and gorgeous friends. You know who you are. And so do your hot-tubbing raccoons.)

This weekend I told a bachelor friend - let's call him John Doe - this cautionary tale, of the scale-model-owning bachelor. He laughed. And laughed. And about three hours later, John turned to the attractive woman sitting to his left and said: "I've seen you before. Do you go to pinball?"

Adventures In Moving

I recently walked past a house where the owners were mid-move. They were moving out, which is never as satisfying as moving in. In the midst of a sea of boxes stood a frazzled 50-something couple that looked about 250 years old. Moving does that to you.

So I did what Irma would want me to do.

A-L: I have a message for you, from my mother, who has moved 13,000 times. That message is 'Peace be with you.'

Haggard moving woman, with tears in her eyes: Thank you. Thank you.

What's my point? There is none. It's just that this Thanksgiving week I was looking for an opportunity to give thanks for the fact that I have not moved in almost two years. A near record, for the Frequent Flying Gypsy Sandstrums of Camarillo (formerly of Laihia, Inglewood, Compton, Helsinki, Granada Hills, Simi Valley, Somis, Heusenstamm, Mission Viejo, Los Angeles, Santa Monica, Portland, Salzburg, Camas, Burbank, Pasadena, Palm Desert, Coachella, Encino, Edinburgh, San Francisco - in more or less that order).

Which brings me to this somewhat related memory. When I lived in Burbank I had an Israeli roommate who worked for a moving company called "Let's Move It Right." And our other roommate used to tack on the phrase "this time" to the end. Took the words right out of Irma's mouth.

Shameless Advertising

I work at a book publisher. We publish a book called Bird Songs Bible which features recordings (from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology) of all the birds of North America.

I encourage you to introduce this book to an animal near you, because something super funny, like this, might happen.

Preparations

A-L: I can't wait for Turkey Day.

Sister Maria: We're having ham.

The Joke's On Me

Turns out my Jewish friends weren't joking around. It really is a table blessing. Google: "They tried to kill us. We won. Let's eat."

Potluck Blessing

The Seahorse Whisperer, downstairs neighbor Michael, the Dog Father (aka "DCB"), Calvin, PWR, and two new characters (roommate Aaron, and friend Dana) gathered together last night for a potluck.

A-L: PWR, as a emissary of the Church of Scotland, do you mind saying grace?

PWR: Grace.

A-L: Ok. Uhh, how about you, Dana? Can you say a Jewish dinner blessing?

Dana: There aren't any. Actually, there is one: "They tried to kill us. We won. Let's eat."

Aaron: I've never heard that prayer before.

Dana: Oh, I didn't realize you were Jewish. I thought I could lie to my little Lutheranish friend here.

Aaron: You can. But not about fake Jewish dinner blessings. At least not when I'm here.

A-L: PWR, what's that really unintelligible Scottish blessing you always say?

PWR: Here's tae us. Wha's like us? Damn few, And they're a' deid.

A-L: I think like Dana's prayer better.

Calvin: Grace. Let's eat.

Tattoo

There was a woman on the train this morning who had "Schadenfreude" tattooed on her lower arm.

I'm just sorry it was spelled correctly.

Mistaken Identity

A-L: Did you know Wavy Gravy's wife used to date Bob Dylan?

PWR: Really. Where did you read that?

A-L: On the internets.

PWR: Did you know Bob Dylan has a house in Nethy Bridge near Harris?

A-L: Was that news in the same paper that announced the bankruptcy of the First Lutheran Church in Camarillo? Because somehow I missed it. And who's Harris?

PWR: My nephew.

A-L: Oh, of course, Haggis.

PWR: But his real name is Robert Zuckerman, or something like that.

A-L: Haggis's real name?

PWR: No, Dylan's. What's the name of that Facebook guy?

A-L: I'm having a hard time following this conversation. Mark Zuckerberg is the name of the guy who "invented" Facebook.

PWR: Maybe I'm getting them mixed up.

A-L: Bob Dylan and Mark Zuckerberg?

PWR: Yes.

Ladies and gentleman, I couldn't make this stuff up.

Wavy Gravy

A-L: Let's do something totally absurd this evening.

PWR: I know, let's go listen to Wavy Gravy speak at the Beat Museum.

A-L: Who's he?

PWR: Come on. Everyone knows who Wavy Gravy is.

A-L: Did you?

PWR: Yes. After I followed the link above to Wikipedia.

A-L: Ok, so he's a hippie activist, and was the official clown of The Grateful Dead.

PWR: That's a bit indulgent. Did they *really* need an official clown? Anywho, let's go. It seems like an appropriately San Francisco thing to do.

A-L: Will I be allowed in?

PWR: Why wouldn't you? Because of your shrill laugh?

A-L: No, because my parents voted for Reagan. And Nixon.

PWR: Uh, I don't think anyone will find out, unless you're wearing your "My parents are the only two people in America who don't love the Kennedys" t-shirt?

A-L: That's in the laundry. So is my "Iran Contra, Iran Shmontra" sweatshirt.

PWR: You're safe then. Just don't laugh. Too loudly.

Vocabulary

PWR: What did your friend mean when he said he's "nearsighted"?

A-L: What do you mean "what did he mean"?

PWR: Was he trying to say he can't see the future?

A-L: Precisely.

PWR: Well, that's a bit short-sighted if you ask me.

Welcome

Former flatmate Paul from Scotland is staying in Oakland for a spell. He goes by the moniker "PWR".

A-L: What brings you to the Bay Area?

PWR: A cat.

A-L: You didn't bring Kitty with you, did you? I've tried my darndest to make sure she doesn't find out where I'm living.

PWR: No. I'm cat sitting for Gregor and Caitlin.

Kitty: Those are funny cat names.

PWR: For their cat Astrid.

Kitty: An even funnier cat name.

A-L: That's a long way to travel for a cat sitting gig.

PWR: I'm a professional.

A-L: I thought you did something with computers? Aren't you the one who programmed Kitty to be passive agressive?

Kitty: That's from my mother's side of the family.

A-L: Your first mother was a Chinese man, named Su, who was not passive aggressive.

PWR: But you digress. I'm here for three weeks

A-L: Excellent. I need blog material.

You'll NEVER Guess

Public Safety Pete: You'll never guess who I saw yesterday.

A-L: You're probably right. Give me some hints. Where were you?

PSP: On Sunday morning? Take a wild guess.

A-L: At a motorcycle rally?

PSP: I was at church. It was my turn to usher.

A-L: Is "usher" Latin for "stand in the narthex and gossip through the sermon"? Or is that Yiddish?

PSP: You'll never guess who was ushering with me.

A-L: You're right. Give me another hint.

PSP: Well, you know the First Lutheran Church in Camarillo went bankrupt?

A-L: Umm, not unless it was on NPR. Or was posted at the bus stop in San Francisco. I guess I'll take your word for it. What's the upshot of their financial troubles?

PSP: More Lutherans for our church.

A-L: Ah, of course.

PSP: So I was talking to this other usher...

A-L: You weren't listening to the sermon?

PSP: It was between Acts. And this guy started telling me that he used to live in Simi Valley.

A-L: He's from the bankrupt church?

PSP: Yes.

A-L: The suspense is killing me.

PSP: And he was our milk man when we lived in Simi Valley! Can you believe it?

A-L: That we had a Lutheran milk man? Or that we lived in Simi Valley? Or that you were socializing during church?

Kitty: All of the above.

Retirement

PWR: My dad just retired.

ALS: From what?

PWR: His job.

ALS: But he's a minister. They can't ever retire, right? Aren't they always in the Lord's service?

PWR: Not in Scotland.

ALS: So who's the new minister in Elgin? And how are you going to keep up with the town gossip?

PWR: They haven't replaced him yet. They just formed a committee to choose a committee to find a new minister. So they send out a call to available ministers, and then they listen to them preach.

ALS: So it's like a pastoral audition?

PWR: You could say that.

ALS: So they hear them perform, and then pick the best one?

PWR: Uh huh. The process takes about 6 months.

ALS: So who's preaching in the meantime?

PWR: They have some travelling preachers that fill in.

ALS: It seems odd to me that didn't have a replacement ready for when your dad retired.

PWR: That's just the way they do it. I guess it gives them time to reflect on what they're looking for.

ALS: Like they might go with a project manager instead of a minister? And how are you going to keep up with the town gossip now that you can't listen in to the parishioners spilling their family secrets over the pastoral dinner table?

PWR: I'm subscribed to a web site that alerts me to all the gossip.

Overheard

Overheard, on a recent US Airways flight from Birmingham to Charlotte...

Flight Attendant: Would you like ice in your wine?

Unfortunately I didn't hear the answer.

Como Se Dice?

A-L: How do you say "you're going to grow a third eye" in Spanish?

The Seahorse Whisperer: Is that a question in a Spanish workbook?

A-L: No, it's a public safety announcement.

TSW: From Public Safety Pedro?

A-L: No, from Public Safety Pedro's reasonably-concerned-for-health-and-safety child.

TSW: Who is going to grow a third eye?

A-L: The guy who is painting the interior courtyard walls with that toxic smelling paint, and not wearing a mask. I just spoke English loudly at him, and then dropped in "pelligro" and "cuidado". And then I said "you'll grow a third eye".

TSW: And?

A-L: He went and got a mask on.

Kitty: And earplugs.

Knock, Knock

Annais and Aila are HUGE fans of Knock, Knock jokes. HUGE. They like making up their own. Below is one that Sister Maria and I heard a couple hundred times. With Annais's spot-on comedic timing, it only got funnier.

Annais: Knock, knock.

Sister Maria: Who's there?

Annais: Cake.

Sister Maria: Cake who?

Annais: Cake in your face.

Repeat several times. Punctuate with raucous laughter from Aila, Sister Maria and A-L. And then this...

Annais: Okay, I've got a good one.

A-L: Let's hear it.

Annais: Knock, knock.

A-L: Who's there?

Annais: Cake.

A-L: Cake who?

Annais: Cake in your face.

Mother, May I

Spent the Easter Weekend with the pygmy marmosets. Pulling out of the driveway one evening, the dome light in the car turns off. A voice from the back seat...

Aila: Hey, Mom. I can't see. Turn the light back on.

Mom (aka Sister Maria): How do you ask nicely?

Annais: May I please see?

A Cat By Any Other Name

The Seahorse Whisperer: You'll NEVER guess what happened on the flight back to Omaha.

A-L: You went to Omaha?

TSW: No. My sister, the Thumb-Sucking Cat's Brother's mother, finished her rotation at the hospital in San Francisco, and took the Thumb-Sucking Cat's Brother back to Omaha, to be reunited with the Thumb-Sucking Cat.

A-L: Did they get upgraded to first class after the flight crew found out who his brother was?

TSW: Not quite. The sedatives wore off halfway through the flight, and the Thumb-Sucking Cat's Brother went crazy. He started biting his way out of his cat carrier. And apparently my sister's right index finger tastes like cat carrier, because he bit it. Super hard.

A-L: Maybe he heard her talking about dropping him off at the pound.

TSW: It's possible. But she ended up with a pretty severe bite, and spent the last three days in the hospital. On Saturday the doctor told her she had a 15% chance of losing her index finger. But now she's on the mend. And her finger is getting better.

JB: At least it wasn't her thumb.

A-L: Too right. Then we'd have to call him The Thumb-Sucking Cat's Thumb-Biting Brother. I much prefer The Thumb-Sucking Cat's Frequent Flying Finger Biting Brother.

Parlez Vous Office Furniture

French colleague, JC, was in town for a visit to HQ.

JC: I will leave the folder at the box.

A-L: My mail box?

JC: No, at the box. Where you sit. I don't think I could work in these boxes.

A-L: We call them cubicles. But it is like a box, with a hole on one side for entry, and no lid.

Kitty: Sounds ideal.

Moving Out

The Thumb-Sucking Cat's Brother is moving back to Omaha.

Going-Away dinner tonight.

Call for details.

Dogs welcome.

Word of the Day

Dear Readers,

I'd like to introduce you to a word invented by my Scottish friend, GW:

snoo·fa definition

Pronunciation: /snu'-fə/
or snoo·fa Pronunciation: /-(ˌ)fō/
Function: n
: A snooze on a sofa.

Origin:
2009–10; orig. Scottish.

—Can be confused: snooze.

Airport Travails

Caroline: Help me.

A-L: Where are you?

Caroline: At PDX. On Standby. With a two-year-old. Two flights have left without me.

A-L: Peace be with you. But I don't have any babysitting contacts at PDX. I'm assuming that's what you need?

Caroline: I'd take a gin gimlet. I've been here since 4 am.

A-L: Is there a bookstore near you?

Caroline: Not one that serves cocktails.

A-L: And you didn't bring a laptop so you could watch Magnum P.I.?

Caroline: One of the many things I forgot.

A-L: Well, Caroline, I suggest people watching. PDX is a great place for that.

Caroline: You're kidding. Surely LAX, JFK, LHR, CDG, NRT, MIA and IDO would be better spots for that.

A-L: How wrong you are. You won't find better than seeing folks who travel once every 15 years coming off a puddle-jumper from Cheyenne, Wyoming navigating the maze that is PDX en route to their connection to Springfield, Oregon.

Caroline: I suppose.

A-L: Once I landed at PDX and passed a man sitting in the waiting area holding a cat, who clearly did not want to be in this man's lap, or at the airport. You won't see that in Paris, or Rio, or Tokyo.

Caroline: Yeah, nothin' says "Welcome to Portland" like an angry/scared cat.

Kitty: Except maybe a thumb-sucking one.

The Pipefish Whisperer

Kitty: So what's the origin of the name "The Seahorse Whisperer"?

A-L: It's a play on the very popular and much over-used verbal trick of adding "Whisperer" after an animal's name. Like "The Horse Whisperer" or "The Dog Whisperer". It indicates a person's ability to charm/tame/understand/train said animal.

Kitty: Psst, don't talk to me like I'm an imbecile.

A-L: Morgan's studying evolutionary biology, and concentrating her work on seahorses and pipefish.

Kitty: And Pipefish Whisperer doesn't sound as good.

Fame - Part Deux

Public Safety Pete: Who is Steve Miller?

A-L: Is this a Knock Knock joke?

PSP: No, that would have started with "Knock Knock".

A-L: Who's there?

Kitty: Steve Miller.

PSP: I don't know who that is.

Kitty: You were supposed to say "Steve Miller who".

PSP: Exactly.

A-L: He's a musician. I don't know how he's escaped your attention.

PSP: I've been busy.

A-L: Anyway, he hugged downstairs neighbor Michael. And now he's famous.

Tour Idea

A-L: What's new, temporary Scandi roommate?

Åsa: I have a brilliant business idea. I'm going to give tours of IKEA. Downstairs neighbor Michael and the Seahorse Whisperer have never been there.

Å-L: You're kidding.

Åsa: The Seahorse Whisperer spends all her time in windowless biology labs, and Michael is devoted to Craigslist. But I imagine there are others out there. And what better way to introduce people to the magic of IKEA, than having a Swede tour them around?

Kitty: Having a Finn tour them around?

Åsa: I would explain ALL the Swedish words, and their relevance and historical and cultural significance.

Å-L: My sister caught chicken pox (in the play area) at the IKEA outside Frankfurt in 1979. Could you incorporate that into your presentation?

Åsa: That could possibly be an anecdote played on the headsets on the ride over to IKEA, but it's not particularly relevant.

Kitty: Or interesting.

Åsa: And I'm not sure the higher-ups at IKEA would endorse a tour that highlights the petri dish-like nature of the play area. But you digress. The tour would end with a fabulous meal at the IKEA cafeteria, and everyone would get a pack of tea lights.

Sign ups accepted now.

Fame

A-L: Hi Michael, what's new?

Michael: I met Steve Miller the other day.

A-L: Do I know him?

Michael: You're a joker.

A-L: Oh, THAT Steve Miller. Was he nice?

Michael: He hugged me.

Thanksgiving in March

I'm thankful:

• That the Thumb-Sucking Cat's Brother has only peed in my room twice
• That cat pee isn't blue
  
• That the muffler I saw on the side of the 101 isn't mine
• That the dishwasher in the middle lane of the 880 this morning isn't mine
• for Silvio Berlusconi, who brings an element of comedy to corruption and international politics

Update from Portland

A-L: What's new?

Caroline: I've been re-watching 1980s sitcoms in my free time.

A-L: Simon and Simon?

Caroline: Magnum P.I. I've just gone through all eight seasons.

A-L: Wow, eight years is a long time.

Caroline: Too long, if I may say so. It went a bit "Miami Vice" in season eight. But there's something really comforting about watching a favorite childhood sitcom. Seeing Tom Selleck takes me back to my elementary school days in Arkansas.

A-L: I think I'm really confused about Arkansas now.

Caroline: I highly recommend taking in a few hundred hours of an old show. Besides, I love Tom Selleck.

A-L: I don't have a television. But I suppose The Seahorse Whisperer, Roommate Will and I could re-enact scenes from Dallas, focusing on the years before Bobby came back from the dead.

Kitty: I'll play Sue Ellen.

RIP Corey Haim

In the immortal (and oft repeated here) words of Sara, "can you even?"

Kitty: I totally can't.

Thumb-Suckings Cat's Brother for Sale (or free to a good home)

A-L: You'll never guess what happened.

Caroline: You're right.

A-L: The Sea-Horse Whisperer's Sister's Thumb-Sucking Cat's Brother jumped up on my bed last night and...

Caroline: Peed with impunity?

A-L: How'd you know?

Caroline: Everyone comes to me with cat pee stories.

A-L: I don't suppose you have any of that coyote urine left?

Caroline: Um, that wouldn't help you. The Thumb-Sucker's Brother is peeing in your room not because he sees Steve and Fake Steve in the yard, but because he's been traumatized by the move across country.

A-L: I think he wants my room. It gets morning sun and has a nice closet.

Caroline: No, he's in distress. He misses Omaha, and his brother.

A-L: I do suppose San Francisco is quite a change. He's started wearing skinny jeans. And he's also been self-harming. He has scratched two bald spots on his forehead.

Caroline: Do you want me to send you my, er, dog-eared copy of Think Like a Cat?

A-L: Will that get cat pee out of down comforter?

Caroline: No, you need Anti Icky Poo for that.

Overheard

"I don't care if she's had plastic surgery, it works."
Sheila on Demi Moore

"It's just a house."
Brussels/Edinburgh/DC Steven on The White House

"But our center of government is just a door."
Brussels/Edinburgh/DC Steven on 10 Downing Street

The Amazing Thumb-Sucking Cat, Almost

The Seahorse Whisperer: My older sister's cat is coming to stay with us for a while.

A-L: Cool. Anything special we should know about him?

TSW's Younger Sister: He might be a thumb-sucker.

Peter the Greek: His own, or someone else's?

TSW: His own.

A-L: Why do you say he "might" suck his thumb?

TSW's Younger Sister: We're not sure if it's him or his brother.

Peter the Greek: Could you call your older sister and ask?

A-L: I'd rather be surprised.

---

Boo has arrived. Turns out he's the Amazing Thumb-Sucking Cat's Brother. In case you need yet ANOTHER reason to visit San Francisco. For a limited time only.

Dress Code

Peter the Greek: I'm going to Meditation this week.

A-L: That sounds relaxing. Maybe The Seahorse Whisperer and our new temporary Scandi subletter will want to come along.

P-the-G: Um, ok.

Kitty: Don't you mean "om, ok"?

Day of Meditation Class...

A-L: The others have backed out. They're busy. But I'll come along. Don't tell my Lutheran Republican parents.

P-the-G: Shirley they know that it's all part of the San Francisco experience. You HAVE to go to a meditation class. Just like you HAVE to do yoga, and buy a bicycle, and eat salted caramel ice cream at Bi-Rite, and have dinner at that weird sushi place that's only open a couple nights a week.

A-L: True. What does one wear to Meditation class?

P-the-G: The Queen wears tie-dyed stretch pants. But you should just wear something comfortable.

Early Morning Coffee Shop Music Debate

J and Z are working the coffee counter at the Velo Rouge Cafe this morning.

Z: Music, please. But, please, not Christina Aguilera.

J: I'll put that on when Mack gets here. He's a huge music snob. And I'm not. I mean, it's all music. Right? Really, what's the difference between Radiohead and Christina Aguilera?

A-L: The spelling.

J: I'm glad you know the answer to that question.

Part 2: What *NOT* to Say

We celebrated a belated Christmas this weekend at Reckless Cousin Tina's house. The kids were opening presents.

Aila (upon receiving a multi-colored shirt): This doesn't go with anything!

Beautiful Sunny Day In San Francisco

Yesterday morning. At the house. Getting ready to leave.

Roommate Morgan (aka "The Seahorse Whisperer", but more on that later): Wow, it's beautiful outside.

A-L: It is. I think I'll drive 35 miles down the Peninsula and spend the day working in a cubicle.

The Seahorse Whisperer: I think I'll go spend the day sitting in a windowless lab.

Roommate Will: I think I'll go spend the day in the theater with a bunch of middle schoolers.

Kitty: You win.

That Elusive Kitchen Table

A-L: I need help finding a kitchen table.

Peter-the-Greek: Did the old one run away?

A-L: In a sense. It went to a better home. Downstairs Neighbor and Former Roommate Michael (aka "Jewish Downstairs Neighbor/Sound Engineer Michael") was bequeathed the table by a former roommate. So we had to let her go.

P the G: What's the problem? Kitchen tables practically fall from the sky in a city of renters.

A-L: That's exactly what I'm hoping for. I want the perfect kitchen table to land in our kitchen. Upright. I'm tempted just to go to IKEA.

P the G: Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! You can't just go to IKEA.

Downstairs Neighbor and Former Roommate Michael: Hi. What are you guys talking about?

A-L: The case of the missing kitchen table.

P the G: Our job is to stop her from going to IKEA.

DN+FRM: Craigslist all the way.

P the G: I don't know about "all the way". I have rule: If a cat can pee on it, I won't buy it from Craigslist.

A-L: I'm against Craigslist because it involves a lot of legwork. And what *can't* a cat pee on?

Caroline: True dat.

DN+FRM: We'll do the work for you. Peter and I will find the tables, and e-mail you the links.

P the G: In between looking for dates.

A-L: Too much work.

P the G: Reading an e-mail is too much work?

A-L: Vetting the kitchen table choices, calling the owners to make appointments to "meet" the tables, driving 930 blocks to look at them...that's too much work. I believe my patience will be rewarded.

Kitty: Until then, dinner in the garage.

Update from Dingwall

Norette, our Highlands correspondent, and I had the following conversation...

A-L: Hi. How's life in Dingwall?

Norette: Busy as ever. I'm getting ready for my Birthday party.

A-L: It's not for months.

Norette: The 15th of May is right around the corner. Will you be here?

A-L: Och, aye. What's the theme?

Norette: How'd you know there'd be a theme?

A-L: Just a hunch.

Norette: The theme is Around the World in 80 Days. It's Fancy Dress, so you have to come dressed as something from a country. Ideally one you want to visit.

A-L: I've always wanted to go to Brazil, but there's now way I'll be able to fit this outfit in my carry-on.

Norette: What about a Finnish National Costume?

A-L: I think you have to know how to do origami to make that hat, and I just don't have the patience for it.

Norette: Well, if you need any inspiration, Gemma and I are going to be in Kimonos. And my friend Bev is going to be the Statue of Liberty.

A-L: Wow. Sound great.

Norette: And my granny is going flamenco.

A-L: I'm not familiar with the term.

The Greek Woody Allen

A-L: How are you?

Peter the Greek: I think I'm turning into Woody Allen.

A-L: Tell me more.

Peter the Greek: I just feel like I'm channeling him, more and more.

A-L: But you're Greek.

Peter the Greek: So?

A-L: And you're not neurotic.

Peter the Greek: And?

A-L: And you're not a short divorced Jewish screenwriter and actor.

Peter the Greek: Ok. I'm Larry David as Woody Allen.

What *NOT* to Say

At the grocery store this morning. Buying sparkling wine.

25-year-old male Cashier looks at wine, looks at me, and says: Oh, you look old enough.

50-something man behind me in line meets my eyes, and looks terrified for the 25-year-old cashier.

A-L: How old do I look?

50-something man behind me in line looks ready to drop his groceries and run.

Cashier: I'd say 35.

50-something man starts whimpering.

A-L: Nope, guess again.

Cashier: Higher?

50-something man feints.

A-L: You're not married, are you?

Cashier: Nope.

50-something man: Didn't think so.

A-L: What if I told you I'm 24 years old?

Kitty: Maybe in dog years.

Don't Strike ME With Lightning

Jewish downstairs neighbor/Sound Engineer Michael was regaling me with stories of his work at a private party on Friday night, the first night of Hanukkah.

Jewish Downstairs Neighbor/Sound Engineer Michael: The food at this private party was amazing. I was eating this mini pizza, and it was soooo good. I couldn't figure out what the secret ingredient was. But it was irresistibly delicious.

A-L: Wow. Tell me more.

JDN/SE M: It had pesto on it. And then it dawned on me why it was so good.

A-L: Don't say it.

JDN/SE M: That's right, it had bacon on it.

A-L: You ate bacon on the first night of Hanukkah?

DN/SE M: Everything's better with bacon. Even Hanukkah.

No Signs

The D-F and his handsome friend, Calvin, are moving up the street. I'm worried about Calvin's safety in a home where lots of people are coming and going. So I offered to make a sign for the door to inform guests/roommates about proper dog safety. IE: Don't let Calvin outside.

The D-F: What would the sign say?

A-L: Well, when Kitty and I lived together, I posted a sign on the inside of the door with a picture of a cat on it, crossed out. That let everyone know she wasn't allowed outside. I could do the same for Calvin.

The D-F: Usually a picture with a line through it means "NO", as in "NO CATS."

A-L: Oh. Do you think Kitty interpreted it as me being anti-cat? Is that why we were always add odds?

The D-F: At odds? Over what?

A-L: Her literary voice, of course.

The Miserable Johnsons

I don't know the full story, but I won't let that stop me.

In years gone by, my friend Dave's family celebrated Christmas with the Johnsons. Apparently the tradition went on for years. Too many years for one of Dave's siblings, who blurted out - at the Christmas table, mind - "You Johnsons ruin every Christmas!"

Some friends used to play the game "if you could eavesdrop on any conversation in history, which would you choose?" More enlightened folks chose historical events like the meeting where the JFK assassination plot was hatched, the Last Supper, the negotiations Prince went through to get out of his contract with Sony, blah, blah...

I'm not enlightened. I choose that Christmas Dinner at Dave's family's home.

This Thanksgiving, I received a text from Dave's Wife that said: "You Johnsons ruin every Christmas." That's all it said. Which made me think the Johnsons have expanded their work to include the Thanksgiving holiday. Hope that's not the case.

More Disappointment

I have found another person who was somewhat disappointed by "the breathtaking, amazing feat of engineering which is the Golden Gate Bridge".

Sara's reaction upon seeing this majestic structure: Oh, it's so short.

Six Degrees of NPR Correspondents

A few months ago a real-live reporter from NPR was at the cafe across the street from my house, The Velo Rouge, interviewing patrons about the Tour de France (say in a French accent). Of course I had to talk to him.

A-L (Holding out her cell phone like it's a microphone): Hi, who are you?

Reporter: Ummm, I'm conducting an interview for NPR.

A-L: You're a reporter for NPR?

Reporter: I'm an intern.

A-L: We all have to start somewhere.

Intern: I'm doing an internship at KQED.

A-L: Do you know Sylvia Poggioli?

Kitty Writes On

Public Safety Pete: I see you've resurrected your blog, A-L. And Kitty is back. He's as feisty as ever.

A-L: HE?!??

Kitty: Do I look like a man?



PSP: No. My sincere apologies. But I've noticed something odd in the photo above.

Kitty: The fact that I'm left-handed?

PSP: No.

A-L: That there's a cat on the table?

PSP: No.

Kitty: Is it that Wreckless Cousin Tina's spontaneously combustible dish towel somehow made it's way to Culross, Scotland?

PSP: Yes.

A Retro Post-Modern Tale (sponsored by Yertle the Turtle)

Sister Maria is reading Dr. Seuss to the pygmy marmosets.

Sister Maria: "Turtle on Typewriter."

Annais: What's a typewriter?

Aila: I saw one at the Children's Discovery Museum.

Kitty: I need a cigarette.

The Creative Process

A-L: I need your help finishing a blog post.

Neighbor JB (aka "The Dog-Father"): What are you looking for?

A-L: A witty closing remark.

The D-F: Who's the speaker?

A-L: The character who gets all the good lines.

The D-F: I can't think like a cat.

PSP & Wreckless Cousin Tina Cross Paths

Recently we gathered with the Irma side of the family to celebrate my uncle and cousin's birthdays. Someone invited Public Safety Pete...

PSP: Um, I don't mean to be a spoilsport, but Tina, you're doing something very unsafe.

Cousin Tina: That's unlike me. Do I have to guess what it is?

PSP: No, it's totally obscure and unlikely to ever result in an accident.

Kitty: The suspense is killing me.

PSP: You should never...

A-L: THAT'S the perfect title for Public Safety Pete's guide to life: "You Should Never..."

PSP: ... hang a dish towel on the top oven handle.

Kitty: I'd like to cancel my advance order for the book.

PSP: If there's a fire in the lower oven, and you open the oven door, that dish towel hanging above it will catch fire instantly.

Kitty: I'm going outside for a cigarette.

Como?

Sister Maria: Blah, blah, blah (in German)

A-L: Blahhhdee blah blah blah (in German)

Annais: Why are you speaking Spanish?

Birthday Wish

A-L: What does Aila want for her birthday?

Sister Maria: It's a white horse, with a tiara. From Target.

A-L: Of course. Get her on the line, please. I'd like to speak to her.

Aila: Hello?

A-L: Hi. Your mom said your birthday wish is for a white horse with a tiara, from Target. If I wanted to buy it for you, how would I find it?

(true story)

Aila: Ok, so you go to Target.

A-L: Uh huh?

Aila: And you to the toy section.

A-L: Yes.

Aila: And you look for the horses. And it's the one with the tiara.

Back to Craigslist...

Michael: I'm moving out.

A-L: You're not!

Michael: I am. But not far. I'm moving downstairs.

A-L: Like, under the stairs.

Michael: No, to Liz's studio.

A-L: Won't Liz's boyfriend mind?

Michael: She won't be living there.

A-L: You'll be living with her boyfriend?

Michael: I refuse to answer your ridiculous questions.

A-L: So are you nervous about finding me and Will a new roommate?

Michael: Craigslist has all the answers.

So once again, I turn to the internet. What could go wrong?

Upstaged

A-L: Hi! Happy Anniversary.

Public Safety Pete: Who is this?

A-L: Very funny. That only works once a year.

Irma: Hi. Did you call to wish us a Happy 40th Anniversary?

A-L: I certainly did. And I'll patch Sister Maria in so that she can send her greetings.

Sister Maria: Happy Anniversary. I have bad news. The elaborate anniversary party we've been planning for ages is canceled.

PSP: What happened?

Sister Maria: Michael Jackson stole your venue.

Irma: You were going to have our party at the Stapler Center?

A-L: Funny, my former colleague Hamid used to call the Staples Center that as well.

PSP: Looks like we'll have to settle for leftovers, an evening walk, and then fall asleep watching the 10 o'clock news.

Irma: Speak for yourself, I'm taking the red eye to Vegas and hittin' the black jack tables.

My Super Cute Neighbor

This is Calvin. My neighbor. He's even sweeter than he looks. His hobbies include chasing the ball, making friends, and napping. (He doesn't know he has one German Shepherd ear, and one Rottweiler ear.)

Kitty: He didn't.

A Man, A Plan, An Anniversary Party in Panorama City

Sister Maria: Cousin Judy had a great suggestion for the 40th Anniversary party.

A-L: Was it to seat Mrs. Meyer next to Mr. Meher, and vice versa?

Sister Maria: Close. She thought of the *perfect* venue.

A-L: I know exactly what I'm going to make you say.

Sister Maria: That's right, she suggested the Knight's Head Inn in North Hollywood.

A-L: The bar where Pete and Irma met?

Sister Maria: That's right.

A-L: You know Irma's mortified that she met her husband in a bar.

Kitty: Especially since it's really in Panorama City, and not the more-glamorous-sounding North Hollywood.

Sister Maria: Public Safety Pete says it's not there anymore.

A-L: Well, I Googled "Knight's Head Inn", and all I get are some posts from a woman who is looking for her birth mother, who used to work there.

Sister Maria: I'll phone Pete and Irma and ask them if they remember a waitress named Linda Turco.

Kitty: She's on Facebook.

Sister Maria: So we've reunited someone with her mother, but still no venue.

Kitty: Stay tuned.

Wedded Bliss

Sister Maria: What should we do for Pete & Irma's upcoming 40th wedding anniversary?

A-L: When is it?

Sister Maria: Forty years to the day after July 7, 1969

A-L: Wow. That's next Tuesday. Good thing we're planning ahead.

Sister Maria: We need a venue.

A-L: Everyone knows 40th anniversary parties take place in the couple's hometown, at the local hall.

Sister Maria: What do you mean by "hometown"?

A-L: The place they're from.

Sister Maria: Do you mean where they live now?

A-L: Or do I mean where they were married?

Sister Maria: Or where they were born?

A-L: Or the town they liked the best?

Sister Maria: Ok, so we've narrowed it down to Laihia, Finland; Compton, Camarillo or Sacramento, California; Las Vegas, Nevada; or Heusenstamm, Germany.

A-L:Who let Sacramento onto the shortlist?

Sister Maria: Public Safety Pete was born there.

A-L: That's ancient history. Can we strike that off the list? No one's going to fly half-way around the world to go to a party in Sacramento. And certainly not in July.

Sister Maria: Who are you planning on inviting?

A-L: Former colleagues, family, old neighbors, teachers, school friends.

Sister Maria: Public Safety Pete has worked at 43 different companies. Are you going to track down all of his former bosses?

A-L: He's worked for his old friend Ed Barker at six different companies, so that cuts it down to 37 bosses. And Don Ford from GE shouldn't be hard to track down. How many Don Fords can there be?

Kitty: 27,300. According to Google.

A-L: Thanks for volunteering to track him down.

Sister Maria: We have to invite the Meyers.

A-L: Who?

Sister Maria: Our old neighbors.

A-L: In Simi Valley, Somis, Heusenstamm, Mission Viejo, Camas or Camarillo?

Sister Maria: Heusenstamm.

A-L: Divorced.

Sister Maria: Ok. How about the Mehers?

A-L: Divorced.

Sister Maria: Doesn't mean we can't invite them.

A-L: Thanks for volunteering to do the seating chart.

Sister Maria: Maybe we should have started planning this last week.

Farewell

Kitty: Why aren't you blogging about the passing of a legend? It's the end of an era, and the homepage of your blog is a conversation you had three days ago about some juan.

A-L: Are you talking about the passing of Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett or Michael Jackson?

Kitty: Guess.

A-L: You weren't even around when Charlie's Angels was on television.

Kitty: I've seen reruns. What do you think the dog and I do while our assistants are at their day jobs? We act out scenes from Charlie's Angels. I'm always Kate Jackson. She's the smart one. But everyone knows Farrah was the sweet one.

A-L: Did you know that Sister Maria gave swimming lessons to Farrah Fawcett's son?

Kitty: Recently?

A-L: No, he's 24 years old now.

Kitty: In Dave and Caroline's pool?

A-L: It was in Los Angeles, not SE Portland. And years ago, before Dave and Caroline were "Dave and Caroline", before Caroline worked at the Macaroni Grill in Little Rock, probably even before the drug lord had the design vision for "1920s Portland architecture meets chain Mexican restaurant."

Kitty: So I image People Magazine has called Sister Maria for a statement.

A-L: Naturally.

The Pool Man

Caroline: Hi. I can only talk for a little while. The pool men are coming over.

A-L: Plural? You have more than one?

Caroline: There is the pool guy who installed the state-of-the-art pool cover, and then there's Juan.

A-L: Most people have just juan. Not two.

Kitty: Now THAT'S the dumbest thing you've ever said.

Caroline: The pool is such a hassle. I know that sounds terribly bourgeois.

Kitty: Um, you have an Arkansas accent and live in Oregon. But I can check with my French friends to see if you can get in on a technicality.

Caroline: I just keep telling myself, "I didn't choose the pool, I chose the pool owner."

A-L: So what's wrong with the pool now? Have the raccoons been laying eggs in it?

Caroline: Quite possibly. It's murky and green and looks like a koi pond, but I think Juan can fix it. He's been taking care of it since the Mexican drug lord lived here.

A-L: Dave used to live with a drug lord?

Caroline: Alas no. A drug lord owned the house previously.

A-L: Oh, right. He's the guy who turned one of the upstairs bedrooms into a huge bathroom with a jacuzzi tub, Mexican tiles, and turquoise walls. The paint color was the tip off that he was high on coke.

Caroline: It's known to all as the porn bathroom. It works really well with the hardwood floor in the rest of the place. The drug lord also put an over-sized roof on the house, which doesn't suit it at all. It used to have a flat roof.

A-L: Maybe he needed a place to store all the cocaine.

Caroline: Anywho, Juan of the pool men is calling me. Gotta run.

Happy Father's Day, Public Safety Pete

Happy Father’s Day to my dad who has given me a better life than he had

Happy Father’s Day to dads who can’t be with their kids this day, and to those who aren’t fathers by biology, but fathers all the same

Happy Father’s Day to moms who play both roles, to dads who think that paying child support is enough, and to those who have chosen their job, hobby, or drug addiction over their children

Happy Father’s Day to new fathers celebrating this day, and to fathers who have left our side

Happy Father’s Day to dads whose kids have long since forgotten that you did the best you could, and to fathers who learned too late you can’t make up for lost time

A Cautionary Tale, for Cats

One Friday evening, my friend P sent her 5-year-old upstairs, in pajamas, to brush his teeth. T came down 10 minutes later, wearing his swim trunks.

P: What happened to your pajamas?

T: I changed because they were getting wet.

P: Why were they getting wet?

T: Because I was bathing the cat.

P: Pardon?

T: I was bathing the cat. In the toilet.

P's husband had to hide in the next room because he was laughing so hard. So P went upstairs to rescue the cat, who was still in the bathroom. With wet hindquarters.

P: Next time we will bathe the cat in the bathtub. We don't put anything in the toilet.

T: Ok. But now she's clean.
...

A-L: Good story. What's the cat's name?

P: Funny you should ask. The five-year-old named her. It's Kitty.

Creative License

Different Carpool Buddy: So, um, are the conversations on your blog real?

A-L: I'll let Kitty answer that.

Kitty: What is it that you're really asking, DCB?

DCB: Is all of this made up? Is it in your head?

A-L: Let me turn your attention to the posts that involve a talking cat. That dialogue isn't verbatim, as such.

Kitty: True dat. I'm MUCH funnier than you make me out to be.

DCB: So, do you, like, have a split personality?

A-L: Are you asking Kitty, or me?

DCB: You.

A-L: Because I make up dialogue?

DCB: Uh huh.

A-L: You know, surprisingly, you're not the first person who's asked if the dialogue is made up. Which I find interesting, because, as above, there's a talking cat involved. Also, people have asked if Kitty is actually me. I'm not sure I know what that means.

Kitty: We look nothing alike. And you wouldn't be allowed to sit on the kitchen table.

A-L: For the record, the conversations are based on real events. Some are verbatim. Others aren't in Latin. And I get to determine what everyone says.

DCB: You're the best carpool buddy I've ever had, and I think the world of you.

A-L: See how that works? Any more questions?

Tea Time

Colleague P: Did you play with Legos when you were little?

A-L: Not professionally, but quite often.

C.P.: How about these days?

A-L: I haven't known my roommates long enough to set up the Amish Lego village in the kitchen.

C.P.: I went to the Lego store this weekend with my son, T, and I bought a pink Lego house.

A-L: Did T realize that you really bought it for yourself?

C.P.: Oh, I was up front about the fact that it was for me. But I promised to share. So we played Legos yesterday, and T's Assassin Droids came over for afternoon tea.

A-L: I keep forgetting you're Canadian.

C.P.: Eh?

A-L: An American would have invited them over for coffee and cake. Or a game of Scrabble. Never tea. So who exactly were the Assassin Droids visiting? Is it one of the Droids who lives in the pink house?

C.P.: No, it's a girl, who came with the house.

A-L: What's her name?

C.P.: I haven't named her yet. I don't identify with her because she's wearing a red shirt and orange pants, which is just wrong.

A-L: Did the Assassin Droids stay long?

C.P.: They ended up staying overnight.

No Parking

Cousin Judy: I have a handicapped placard for you.

A-L: But my friend told me that my passive-aggressive behavior doesn’t qualify me for a placard. Or is it for Kitty, who’s chronically manipulative?

Cousin Judy: It’s for your friend who’s going camping. It expired in July 2007, but you can “amend” the date.

Public Safety Pete: Do you know what the fine is for illegally using a handicapped placard?

A-L: Do you know what the fine is for being a spoilsport?

Public Safety Pete: It’s about $3000.

When Life Imitates Seinfeld

A-L: How was your camping trip to Angel Island?

Carpool Buddy: Great. I've rebooked it for September.

A-L: Sounds good.

CB: Do you know anyone who's disabled?

A-L: I'm passive aggressive. My friend Greg diagnosed me years ago.

CB: That doesn't count. I don't think you can get a disabled placard for that.

A-L: Why do you need a placard?

CB: I accidentally booked a disabled campsite at Angel Island, and I don't want to lose this prime spot.

A-L: So you're going to make friends with someone who is disabled, invite them camping, and use their placard to retain the reservation?

CB: Maybe.

A-L: Should I assume you're also looking for a new carpool buddy, who can get you better parking?

CB: Maybe.

True Story

Public Safety Pete: Hello?

A-L: Hi! Happy Birthday!

Public Safety Pete: Who is this?

Brutha From Anutha Mutha

Ananda (looking at a picture of Sister Maria and me): Who is that? 

A-L: That's my sister, Maria. She's known in the blogosphere as Sister Maria. 

Ananda: Is she your half sister? 

A-L: She's half as tall as me, if that's what you mean? 

Ananda: No. I mean "do you have the same parents"?

A-L: I think so. Although I've always dreamed that I was the long lost daughter of the owners of an ice cream factory. I love chocolate peanut butter ice cream. 

Ananda: You two look nothing alike. And my secret ice cream factory owning parents would specialize in coconut ice cream. 

A-L: We occasionally get asked if we're twins. 

Ananda: By whom? 

A-L: By people who think we look like twins. 

.....

One week later, Sister Maria and I are in a shop, talking to the very friendly shop owner.

Friendly Shop Owner: Do you two work together? 

Sister Maria: We're sisters. 

Friendly Shop Owner: You must look like the mom. 

And turning to me he said: And you must look like the dad. 

A-L: Are you saying I look like a man? 

Flustered Friendly Shop Owner: No, I'm just saying you don't look anything alike. 

...

Forty-five minutes later, outside the grocery store, a man approaches us and asks: Are you twins? 

Sister Maria: No, she's my dad. 

Bacon Flu

A-L: What's new?

Irma: I think that cough Public Safety Pete had for three weeks was Swine Flu.

A-L: You've been watching too much Fox News.

Irma: We don't get that channel. We only get ABC, NBC, and KTLA, on a good day.

A-L: Have you and Pete finally turned into hippies? Are you living off the grid?

Irma: No, our T.V. antenna isn't great, and I'm too cheap to pay for cable. We used the money we would have spent on cable to send you and Sister Maria to private school.

A-L: Was St. Bonaventure only $35.99 a month? Truth be told, I'd rather have had MTV and VH1 than a Catholic education. Have you ever seen Pop Up Video? That sh** rocks.

Irma: No, I'm not familiar with that program.

A-L: You should sneak into the neighbor's house when they're out of town and watch cable. I'd trade my straightened teeth for three years of the Discovery Channel.

Irma: Is it that good?

A-L: Better. Give them three months, they'll have a documentary on Swine Flu.

Irma: If we're still around then.

A-L: Do you really think you'll catch it?

Irma: I hope not.

A-L: Come on Irma, you're a nurse. You know how diseases are spread, and you and Pete just aren't in the target market. You don't live with pigs, and you wash your hands far too often.

Irma: You don't have to live with pigs to catch it.

A-L: You just have to come in contact with someone who has it, and then lick them. And I bet no one you see, or lick, has it.

Irma: You never know.

A-L: Well, just know that if you and Pete fall victim, Maria and I will handle the proceedings in a manner befitting your legacy.

Irma: You'll serve ham and cheese sandwiches at the memorial service?

A-L: Pork ribs. Happy almost Mother's Day.

Helpful Hints For San Francisco

My friend Laura came to visit San Francisco, from scenic Scotland. And she loved it here, but had these two pieces of advice for the city:

1. Turn up the evening temperature a bit.
2. Paint the Golden Gate Bridge gold.

Laura is possibly the only person EVER to see the totally breathtaking, amazing feat of engineering which is the Golden Gate Bridge, and register this reaction: disappointment.

"It's not gold."

A Growing Readership

A-L: Ohmigosh, people are reading my blog.

Kitty: They are? How do you know?

A-L: I just got a new comment, from the mysteriously named "Anonymous".

Kitty: Cool.

A-L: The message is cryptic, but good. I think. It's succinct, and quite poetic. I bet it's from a famous writer.

Kitty: What does it say?

A-L: "Boring. Dumb."

Kitty: About which post?

A-L: The most recent one, entitled "Bedtime for DJs".

Kitty: Hmm. That's not even close to being the most boring or dumbest post. Wonder who it could be. Does Annais have internet access at daycare?

A-L: She does, but she's a fan of the Ferocious Reader, and besides, she'd use a different moniker, like her ham radio handle.

Bedtime for DJs

F.D.: You'll never believe what the DJ upstairs said.

A-L: Try me.

F.D.: He said that he's trying really hard to be considerate, and turn down the music when it's late, but he's struggling with knowing what is "too late".

A-L: Are you saying that he doesn't understand the concept of "bed time"?

F.D.: He doesn't understand what time people who aren't DJs go to bed, and he needs help knowing when that is.

A-L: I have an idea.

F.D.: Uh oh.

A-L: No, it's a good idea. It's not one of my silly "I'll say this for a laugh" ideas.

F.D.: Ok.

A-L: Each night, when it's bed time, you could go upstairs and read him a bed time story. That way, there'll be no confusion about when bed time is. When the story is over, he has to turn the stereo off.

Michael: Or put on headphones.

When a DJ Lives Upstairs

Flatmate David: Have you heard the super loud music from the upstairs neighbors?

A-L: No. It might be my snoring that you're hearing.

F.D.: No, it's definitely melodic. But waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too loud, and waaaaaay too late.

A-L: Oh, actually I have. I forgot that I wrote a poem to the upstairs neighbor.

F.D.: Wow, and right on cue, he's turned it up again.

A-L: What song is that? Sounds like the Jackson Five.

F.D.: Not sure. I could Shazam it.

A-L: That's when you know the music upstairs is too loud.

F.D.: They just don't understand the concept of THIN WALLS + LOUD MUSIC + DIFFERENT WORK SCHEDULES = UNHAPPY DOWNSTAIRS NEIGHBORS.

A-L: I think passive aggressive is the way to go here.

F.D.: Good idea. When I leave the house at 6 am, I'll leave really bad music on loop. Can I borrow your Phil Collins CD?

A-L: Which one? I mean, I don't own any Phil Collins. Honestly. I was thinking George Michael. But maybe that's so bad it's good.

Conversation Stopper

At the San Francisco Airport, after a few minutes of friendly conversation...

Friendly man: So, what do you do?

A-L: I'm an admin assistant.

(insert long pause)

Friendly man: Do you want a drink?

Location, Location, Location

A-L: I must be drunk. I'm filling in some information about a company, which is in Texas, and I put down the wrong country. Texas isn't in Canada!

SR: Texas is in Texas.

A Definite Red Flag

Caroline: I once broke up with a boyfriend because he had a Mariah Carey CD.

A-L: Really?? Which one?

Caroline: I think it was Daydream.

A-L: I meant which boyfriend.

Interview Saga - Part 1

This really happened. To someone I know. Names have been changed to protect those who need protecting.

Sally: I'm thrilled to be here, Nancy. Thanks for giving me an interview.

Nancy: No problem. I just want to start out by telling you that I'm leaving the company very soon. I'm going to get my MBA. I just thought it was fair to say that up front.

Sally: Great, then maybe I'll get your job instead of the one I'm interviewing for. I mean, what a shame. I'm sure I could learn so much from you.

Nancy: I have NO IDEA how they're going to find someone to replace me. They're never going to find what they're looking for.

Sally: Yes, you look like that rare individual who is indispensable.

Nancy: So, the salary's not spectacular for this low-level customer service position. How do you feel about that?

Sally: I've considered dog walking, nit picking and converting so I could become the mother to someone else's Jewish baby. I'm not particularly money motivated in this down spiraling economy. What's REALLY important to me is that I like the product I'm selling and that I work with nice people. And that I'm employed.

Nancy: Oh, I'm not nice.

Sally: Yes, I didn't not notice that. I mean, tee hee.

Nancy: I'm serious. I'm not nice. I hate training people. I'm really impatient.

Sally: Are you drunk? Did you just say that to me? I mean, I can understand that sentiment. I've been a manager, and training people can be challenging.

Nancy: Yeah, I'll show someone how to do something once, and if they don't get it, they're on their own and I get really aggravated.

Sally: Nit picking wouldn't be so bad. I could make my own hours.

Nancy: One thing that makes this mindless job very complicated is that we use many different systems, so you have to be very precise.

Sally: Well, I'm very good about admitting if I've made a mistake, and then going back and fixing it.

Nancy: That's a good trait, but, uh, we don't make mistakes. I'm serious. We don't make mistakes. We can't make mistakes.

Sally: You are the best thing that's ever happened to my blog. Are you kidding me? Did you REALLY just say that to me during an interview?

Nancy: Ok, come meet my boss, Bob.

Sally: Let's hope he's also a goldmine of interviewing no-no's.

-----

Bob: Scaaawwt-land, huh? How long did you live in Edin-bor-ough?

Sally: I'm not sure where Edin-bor-ough is, sir, but I lived in Edinburgh for five years.

Bob: I'm Scawwww-tish.

Sally: I don't believe you.

Bob: So, tell me about the retail job you had in Beverly Hills. I bet you had some demanding customers there.

Sally: That was seven jobs ago. Do you really want to focus on that one?

Bob: I'm just going to talk over you, and anything you say is wrong. My interviewing style is a mix of aggressive, condescending and confrontational. So explain how you would have dealt with an unhappy customer when you were working retail.

Sally: Well, I would have apologized, and then spoken with my manager...

Bob (interrupting): Let's say your manager's unavailable.

Sally: Well, I would have spoken to my manager's manager.

Bob: That person's not available either.

Sally: I didn't work alone at this high-department store. I don't think, sir.

Bob: Moving right along, prove to me that you're organized.

Sally: Uh, my resume is easy to read? I got here on time?

(At this point in the interview, Sally had given up, and already strongly disliked both Bob and Nancy. And never wanted to work near/with/for/against them.)

Sally: What, exactly, are you looking for in a low-level underpaid customer service rep reporting to self-important, inexperienced and unprofessional managers? I mean, what are you looking for in an employee?

Bob: I'm looking for someone who can "keep their head, when all about are losing theirs".

Sally: I like that poem.

Bob: Yes, it's Robert Burns.

Sally: Try again. It's Rudyard Kipling.

Bob: It's one of the two.

Yeah, the one I said.

And here concludes Part 1. Let's recap: Sally corrected her potential boss's boss in an interview because she can't bear to let it pass that he's attributed a Rudyard Kipling poem to Robert Burns. Will Sally ever get a job?? To be continued.

The Tao of Annais - Verse One

A-L: Good morning Annais. How did you sleep?

Annais (closing her eyes): Like this.

Q & A With Public Safety Pete

I received the following e-mail from Gemma, our Paris correspondent:

A-L,
Please forward this photo to Public Safety Pete for analysis.

Thanks, GL

Pete, can you rate this on the scale of 1 - 10?

The Tao of Annais (Rhymes with "The Tao of Niece")

A-L: You should drive up to visit me in San Francisco sometime. It's only a 10-hour drive from Coachella (aka The Surface of the Sun).

Sister Maria: That sounds perfect for the girls. There's nothing five- and three-year-olds like more than being confined to car seats for 10 hours.

A-L: Is it really bad?

Sister Maria: Hey, Annais, tell A-L how much you like the drive to Northern California.

Annais: What?

Sister Maria: Tell her about the drive up north, how fun it was.

Annais: The drive was ... (insert dramatic three-year-old pause) ... the plane.

A-L: Does she work for Southwest Airlines? Or is she Yoda?

Sister Maria: Both.

Police Custody

Public Safety Pete: Hi, I'm waiting for my fingerprints to dry.

A-L: Are you and Irma stenciling the hallway with your hand and foot prints?

Pete: No, I'm at the Channel Islands Police Station, I think.

A-L: What happened? Did you finally act out against the homeowners' association rules and put up a lawn ornament? I hope it's a life-size troll.

Pete: No, I'm getting fingerprinted.

A-L: And I was your first phone call? Unfortunately I'm pretty busy. Sister Maria and I are running errands. Can I call you back when you're eligible for parole?

Pete: I wish. I'm getting my paw prints taken so I can do that volunteer job you signed me up for.

A-L: The one counting birds for the Audubon Society?

Pete: That sounds more exciting. I'll be installing Life Alert systems in elderly people's homes.

A-L: Does that mean you get a free one? If so, can I have it? I'd love to get it connected to the Velo Rouge coffee shop across the street from my house so they could deliver freshly brewed coffee.

Pete: Um, pressing the Life Alert button means an ambulance, not a barista, shows up.

A-L: Oh, so it's broken. No wonder they need volunteers.

Are You New?

If you're a new reader, and I know there are tens of you, or you just need reminding, these are the characters who play recurring roles on the Ferocious Reader:

1. Public Safety Pete - My dad. Concerned with safety. Named Pete. Or Peter. Native to California.
   
2. Irma (aka "the Irma") - My mom, Irma. Married to Public Safety Pete for 39.5 years. Of Finnish origin.
   
3. Sister Maria - My sister. Her name is Maria.
4. Grandbrother Hector - Husband of Sister Maria. "Grandbrother" is Ted's (see Character 7) version of "brother-in-law".
5. Aila - Original niece. The elder of the MexiFinns. Fan of pygmy marmosets, hummingbirds and scarlet macaws.
   
6. Annais (aka "Cachetona", "Cache", "Eese") - Younger of the MexiFinns. PRONUNCIATION KEY: Rhymes with "geese". (Bonus information: Was named "Peter Marie" while gestating.)
7. Ted - Of Polish origin. Flatmate of four years in Edinburgh. Still in Scotland. Accident prone. Wife and two children in Poland, eagerly awaiting his return. New(ish) to English. Originator of the phrases "sister-in-love" and "grandbrother", among others.
   
8. Kitty - A cat. Lives in Scotland.
9. Others appear as convenient/necessary/funny.
   

I hope that's useful.