:: The Wendy House ::

occassionally the ‘executives’ send emails to the coal-face.  93.14159 % of them start with the phrase “I’m super excited…”   Apparently they get super excited about sweeping generalisations, nothing specific.   These make me think of labrador puppies before they’ve been house trained.  Not inspring confidence in the executives ability to put a finger on the pulse of the organisation.  Do US people thrive on this sort of vague praise?

To me ‘Super excited’ is beginning to mean ‘here comes the motivational management bull****. Skip down two or three paragraphs to avoid having your intelligence insulted and actually find out what this email is really about’ 

Luckily “rascally roustabout wraith” is not a phrase that crops up in everyday parlance. I have difficulty saying it out loud.  I’m practicing the lip movements.  As soon as the opportunity arises I’ll use the phrase.  Does anyone know any ghostly seamen?

memories of Sunday evening heavily distorted by the best part of a bottle of white wine consumed that evening:

Wendy:  whines about the lack of attractive approachable single men in their 40’s

Snewtee: positive suggestion ‘what about those 2 over there?’

Wendy: Oh, ok  (bounces in a slurred fashion towards two men.  Introduced myself… …somehow)

Man #1:  physically recoils

Man #2: giggles and introduces me to his wife.

Wendy:  something about David Beckham scoring an outstanding goal from 25 yards against Ecuador today followed by singing ‘Eng-GER-land’ and waving my arms in the air.  Aren’t you impressed by my skills for engaging the locals in conversation?

Man #1: several more steps backward

Man #2: more giggles

Wife: ignores the goings-on

Wendy:  something along the lines of ‘it’s been nice chatting with you,  bye’ shakes the hands of man #2 and man #1 (who appears to have relaxed now he’s realised I’m leaving).

Must remember to moderate drinking in the sunshine and try not scare the locals….

Noseying on the left

A few weeks ago Candy¹ was taken handcuffed from her home by police, strapped into an ambulance.  I don’t know why.  She seemed perky enough when I talked to her a few days later.

Candy’s husband knocked on my door at midnight to explain they were burgled last week while at work when they left their back door physically open to enable the cats free access.   

Noseying on the right

Sipping lemonade in the shade on my stoop.  In a neat line four people filed by to view the empty home to my right.  Realtor lead the march.  Middle-aged mom scurried behind her.  Middle-aged dad strode with perky terrier in arms.  Gangly late-teen swept the rear.   I smiled saying “Hello” trying to catch the eye of each passing person. Maybe the parents didn’t hear me.  Gangly did.  He gave me a gigantic smile, raised his eyebrows,  flashed a glance at his biddies, then smiled back at me while waggling his eyebrows again.  This silent acknowledgement of his parents ignoring my greeting was funny,  generous and clever.  He can live next door. 

1. psuedonymn for cute asian female neighbor 

Sweet Sixteen a Ken Loach film.  Recommendation for you:

For quirky me this rated:

Because the film doesn’t ‘travel’ well; despite the two lead characters never removing their baseball caps ;-)  I have an affection for Ken Loach’s story telling style and content having grown up on Z Cars and been moved in my early teams by his outstanding film ‘Kes‘.

Why not rate it higher for you?  The strong Scottish accents and colloquial language make much of the dialog inpenetrable for none-Scottish audiences without the aid of (provided) subtitles.  My year living in Scotland trained my ear to the language but I still had to focus to follow the dialogue.  The work is social realism,  a ‘kitchen sink’ drama.  Not broadly accessible.  A ‘niche’ movie.

It’s the story of a working class boy’s daily life.  Poverty in Scotland.  Realistic violence, crimes and liberal swearing. I cried. I knew people like this. I left them behind.  After leaving, cutting the chord, I heard the stories of their lives.  It draws a painful, clearly marked, downward spiralling journey that starts near the bottom.  Occassionaly punctuated with touching situational humour.  The pleasures of kinship and playfulness in daily life.  No sound track.  At one point the lead character, Liam,  listens as Chrissy Hind,  the Pretenders, sings ‘I’ll stand by you’ and later in a club “I go to sleep“.  Chrissy Hind was married to Jim Kerr the Glaswegian lead singer of Simple Minds.  Example of the simple powerful dialog:

Chantelle to Liam: “how can you care about them if you don’t care about yourself?”

Later

Policeman: “Do you know what iniative is?”

Liam: “Laughing at bosses jokes?”

Later

Liam to Chantelle:  “Open the door, give me a cuddle“

FIFA World Cup Fever

Originally uploaded by Heaven`s Gate.

(apologies for editing funkiness sent to RSS feeds)

England next face Portugal, who knocked out the Nederlands, in a quarter final on July 1st.

I’ve been unable to find a free Wordpress blog template based on the St. George flag to celebrate the progress. While looking I found many, essentially racist, patriotic web-sites. Apparantly there is a serious movement in the UK to introduce an “English” parliament. There are distinct Welsh, Scottish and Irish parliaments. The English, not content with being the seat of the mother parliament, want their very own expensive extra level of bureaucracy too. They’re feeling left out.

As an English gal I find it difficult to view myself as part of a disadvantaged ethnic group in any way.

Inbetween watching world cup soccer I am

• washing floors 
• scrubbing ‘restrooms’,
• de-fluffing the fluffballs
• writing my annual work performance review
• drinking enough tea to sink a large, ill-tempered, French goat. 
• staying away from people I might impulsively bite (because it’s THAT time of the month)

Anyone want to swap places for the weekend?

because

1. they are pretty.
2. they will aid sleep.
3. they relieve allergies.
4. I might get pregnant.
5. they prevent psoriasis.
6. stress is ruining my life.
7. diet failure is not my fault
8. they lower my blood pressure.
9. they prevent drowsiness at work.
10. my cholesterol level needs controlling.
11. bowel movements should be regularized.
12. Primrose oil is more accessible in pill form.
13. they can help me avoid heartburn (acid reflux).
14. my susceptibility to a heart attack will be reduced.
15. everyone else is taking them, I don’t want to be different.
16. getting my vitamin requirements from eating food is difficult.
17. my daily milk drink has insufficient calcium to prevent osteoporosis.
18. I can ‘be myself again’.

Warning:  side effects can include nausea, vomitting, headache, diahrea, muscle ache, reduction in vision, liver problems, skin rash, water retention, depression and in rare cases; fatality. Do not consume alcohol, drive or operate heavy machinery when taking these pills.  Please consult a doctor before taking these pills.   

I wonder

• whether ’scientific’ studies adequately predict pill cocktail impact?
• what ‘health’ meant before extremely wealthy drug companies?
• when I will find time to eat between popping pills?

Imagine the film; a mix between The Terminator and An American Werewolf in London directed by Danny ‘trainspotting’ Boyle.  including mood setting music by X-ray spex, (Oh Bondage up yours) and the Sex pistols (Holidays in the sun).

Film Plot?  I’ve lost it mate.  No prizes for guessing how the hormones are affecting my ‘interaction style’ today.  Anyone who calls my accent cute in the next 3 days, criticizes my spelling,  work or fashion sense risks getting glared to death or ignored with extreme porcupine-spikeyness.

Sanitary protection (UK) isle

Both euphemisms refer to the social value of ‘cleanliness’ something that traditionally groups with lower social standing own - the cleaning.  The US euphemisim clearly cites this as a female issue.  Women,  cleaning,  clearly acceptable terms to put together.  The name Jenn overheard a female using refers to females in a respectful way without raising cleaniliness or anything that might disturb people who don’t bleed (blood?):  Lady pants.  I suspect lady pants will never catch on as a euphamism because it has too few syllables per word to be sufficiently pretentious for a modern euphamism (e.g. used = previously owned).  Lets play with the experience to find a new euphemism. 

This isn’t a hygeine issue because the blood is fresh.  I don’t like the inference that I have a hygiene problem because I’m a girl. Bad marketting.  We could ’balance’ the names by also having a ‘male hygeine’ isle.  The male hygiene isle would contain products for cleaning spatter from around the toilet (rest room), removing sperm ejaculated while asleep (wet dreams) with quick sheet drying abilities,  and other messy stuff that is male-body-function-specific.  Some wonderful product-euphamisms possible here,  for example, dry dream wipes.  Rather than add another set of gender specific hygeine problems to be solved,  lets cut the word hygeine.

This is a blood-flow management issue.  Management is a much better word more taking control and sorting things out.  To avoid the monosyllabic word blood lets pair management with the technical term - Menstruation.  Ideal.  Lots of syllables,  unintelligible, unpronouncable to the uninitiated (children),  and it start’s with an M.

Menstruation Management isle

They could stock this supermarket isle with pain killers,  stress relief products, chocolate, action/violence DVDs and bandages for anyone who said the wrong thing to the Menstruator.  With a name like feminine hygeine the products do not sit naturally with the other products that a menstruator might impulse purchase at the same time.  In the US feminine hygeine products are often placed by nappies.  How whacky is that?  It says to me,  this is your place:  clean the messes, have babies and clean their messes.  Not an embodiment of the progressive attitude I’d expect to encounter in North America.  I’m not going to impulse buy some baby pants when I’m suffering from pre-menstrual tension/syndrome.  Shops are missing out on a key marketting opportunity by implying menstruating women have a hygiene problem,  not mechandising to leverage female financial independence,  and offending people like me by forcing me to walk by baby pants.   

My nail-file is banned from US plane hand luggage.  I can take my laptop on a flight.  I wonder how Air Transport Security are planning to deal with suicide laptops.

khaki cargo pants & t-shirts

Wendy: dress in clothes your mother would think you look good in. Casual with a hint of smart because you are representing the company to these customers.

male colleague: Khaki’s and logo’d t-shirt Ok?

Wendy: a popular choice!

the day started with Nike’s controversial double-page spread in UK main newspapers, on poster-boards, and broadcast into my home by a Canadian news reporter based in London.  It’s published online in this article by the Sun newspaper featuring young aggressive English Soccer star Wayne Rooney.  I want a copy.  

Why is it personal? 

• Mum is English
• Dad is a Swedish speaking Finn (feel the loyalty tensions)
• England have not beaten the Swedish soccer team since 1968 (England humiliation at lack of success in their national sport)
• English Soccer team manager is “Sven Goran Ericson”,  you guessed it,  a Swede.  He gets my prize for either ‘outstanding platitude’ or ‘driest wit’ for this comment on England’s chances: “Sooner or later we have to beat them“.
• match outcome determines who plays the home team, Germany. 

I wore my 2000 England soccer strip to work and watched the game in a works canteen with three huge overhead screens in the company of people from Sweden, Paraguy, Britian and some other countries judging by their complections and the languages I could partially over-hear. 

First half 

Within the first 2 minutes Michael Owen was taken off injured.  No foul play.  He’s a striking star only not due to strike during this match. 

England carried the half by persistently attacking.  They made multiple,  poorly executed, strikes.  They kept giving-away mutliple corner-kicks (set-plays) to Sweden.  I don’t know what planet Sweden were on at this time but they managed to fluff multiple goal opportunities provided by England.  Towards the end of the first half (34mins) Joe Cole scored an outstanding goal with a long,  curved shot that no-one was expecting.  Joe Cole’s footwork was consistently amazing throughout the match,  his feet seemed to hover over and around the ball whenever it was near them,  teasing the Swedish players who appeared unable to place a foot near it when in his possession.  Defintiely my man of the match.  That kind of teasing,  humerous,  footwork qualifies him as a playful cutie in my books.  The England fans spontaneously sang the national anthem.  It sounds low and melodic in the predominantly male voices.  I miss singing at live matches.  Wendy-soppiness was beginning to set-in at this point.

Score at half time: (England 1 Sweden 0)

Second half

Sweden came back clearly revived and on the attack, scoring an exceptional goal within five minutes play.  They continued to look the better side throughout the second half.  After 70mins Sven substituted Nike posterman Rooney with Garrison.  Rooney stomped off to the box, where, like a petulant child he pulled his boots off and threw them down.  He was not a happy bunny and wanted everyone watching to know.  A poor exhibition from someone representing their country.  Five minutes before the end of the game Garrison scored for England.  The cheering could have raised the canteen roof!  The England crowd starting singing the National anthem again.  I was nearly moved to tears.  In the 90th, last, minute Sweden scored a goal with a long shot that easily passed two poorly coordinated England defenders.  Ouch.  Sven’s ’sooner or later’ didn’t include today’s game.

final score:   England 2  Sweden 2

What,  no mention of Beckham?  Was he on pitch?  Yes.  He took a couple of corners that failed to set-up any goals.  He was almost invisible which doesn’t seem a good way to play during a competitive international match.  The USA ESPN sports commentator was more harsh in his comments on Beckham’s play.  It was painful, enlightening, listening to a less partisan commentator on an English game. I missed Gary Lineker’s commentary.  You can’t fault his insightful descriptive talent: 

“Football is a simple game; 22 men chase a ball for 90 minutes and at the end, the Germans always win.”

The referee’s performance was also notably different from the referee in the USA-Italy game.  Th referee of England-Sweden prioritised ‘play-on’ where the advantage was with the appropriate side over delivering yellow-cards.  Card’s weren’t even guarrantteed after fouls that stopped the game. To my suprise the Swede’s were much more proliffic in their production of fouls than the English.  I was impressed by, and proud of, the quality behaviour of the English team on pitch focussing on legitimate means to win the game. 

Now Sweden play Germany (Saturday) and England play Equador (Sunday). 

I wandered into a sport’s bar to see if I can find some World cup soccer.  It was playing an NHL channel.

bar-fly:  what team sports did you play at school

wendy:  hockey

bar-fly:  nods knowingly

wendy: ordinary hockey,  NOT ICE hockey

bar-fly: no ice! I’ve never heard of that.  Do they play on rollerblades?

Flight attendant:  “we are pre-boarding business class and people who need assistance”

I watched them board trying to guess who was business class and who needed assistance.  I couldn’t tell the difference.  They all looked male, white and too unfit to lift their hefty black carry-on bags or walk without weeble-style wobbling.

each weekend a team of instructors for US soccer camps stay at Hotel US suburb.  The instructors are British,  some Scottish,  mostly from Northern England and under 20yrs.  World Cup 2006 soccer plays on the Hotel Lobby’s big screen.  I had the luxury of a shouted critical commentary in multiple British accents.  Hooray! 

I chatted with the team leader about his job.  He commented on how difficult it was in the evenings because, unlike at home, the younger coaches cannot drink beer here in the US.  He mentioned they had found a few places that do not check ID cards.  He also suggested that there are few team sports readily open to girls in the USA.  Soccer is often their only realistic option.  As you guys know, the USA womens soccer team is a world class heavyweight winning the 2004 Olympics and only recently (2003) loosing their world cup holder status to germany in the semi-finals.   

My rental car requires me to press the ‘lock’ button 2x before it actualy locks the doors.  Intuitive?  Uh, not to me.  Can you see the problem here?  This morning soccer coach #1,  who couldn’t remember what his hire-car looked like, opened the door to my car which,  though unlocked, was alarmed.  Hearing the alarm I dashed out to find the boy scratching his head while inspecting my number plate. 

Wendy ‘I think that’s my car’ (some hesitancy because maybe I parked it somewhere else and there’s another blue Chevvy Colbalt in the parking lot)

soccer coach #2:  “I said black, not blue, car” in a thick Northern English accent that made it clear how difficult it was to understand his words.

soccer coach #1 and I exchanged profuse apologies¹ and giggled as he found his car and I locked mine.  I wondered how difficult it must be for the regional US children on soccer camp to understand the instructions these guys call-out in thier unfamilair British regional accents.  I’d love to spend a day at the camp,  to see and hear what it is like,  but I have to leave this morning…..

1. When dealing with unfamiliar US people through work I strive to avoid my inclination to apologise liberally because I believe my work culture leans towards interpretting this as obsequious, a sign of weakness.  This belief stems from the way apologies are accepted with minimal signs of largesse, for example, humour.  In social situations I risk following my tendency to apologise and look for the generosity of the person by their reaction. 

‘Big Ben’ pub on ProvidenceOriginally uploaded by :: Wendy ::.
A good match, the USA were the more aggressive team if demonstrating less strategic skill. Holding the Italians to a draw is defintely a substantial achievement, even if both goals were scored by the Italian side…..

A good match, the USA were the more aggressive team if demonstrating less strategic skill. Holding the Italians to a draw is defintely a substantial achievement, even if both goals were scored by the Italian side…..I stumbled upon a ‘British Pub’ just before the match started and sat outside under a blue umbrella wathcing the match. During the Italian National anthem the team stood with their arms draped over each others shoulders and sang. During the USA national anthem the American team stood with about a foot between them, hands on heart, many didn’t even bother to mouth the words to the anthem.

A good match, the USA were the more aggressive team if demonstrating less strategic skill. Holding the Italians to a draw is defintely a substantial achievement, even if both goals were scored by the Italian side…..I stumbled upon a ‘British Pub’ just before the match started and sat outside under a blue umbrella wathcing the match. During the Italian National anthem the team stood with their arms draped over each others shoulders and sang. During the USA national anthem the stood with about a foot between them, hands on heart, many didn’t even bother to mouth the words to the anthem.The game was generally well referreed with some seemingly harsh decisions. The worst foul was when Daniele De Rossi (Italy) flagrantly threw an elbow right into the face of McBride (USA) in the 28th minute. He was sent off with a red card while McBride, with blood running down his face, left the field to change his shirt and try to stem the blood flow.

America weren’t one man up for long, just before the end of the first half Mastroeni was sent off for a late foul on Pirlo. It really wasn’t clear that this was actually a deliberately late tackle, looked reasonable to me.

Both goals were scored mid way through the first half.

Pope (USA) is sent of for a second yellow-card at the beginning of the second half. The USA managed to maintain the 1:1 score with only 9 men on the pitch. Nice job.

The cheering and chanting from the crowded pub really added to the ambience.

Wendy:  hug?

Blonde in car:  (smiles and blushes)

Wendy: leant into the driver-side car window and wrapped my left arm around her ‘thankyou so much’

I had just finnished driving 100 miles along Blue Ridge Parkway in the Appalachain mountains between Blowing Rock and Asheville.  There are no gas stations on the route or signposted from the route.  

No prizes for guessing what happened to me in my rented car…. 

I discovered that:

• A Chevy Cobra can go about 40 miles (20 of them coasting downhill) on an ‘empty’ fuel tank,  while flashing all sorts of lights at the driver.
• I can tolerate an empty tank without panicking for about 20 miles.
• 0 out of 10 American SUV drivers surveyed carry a spare couple of gallons in a container in their boot ‘just incase’. 
• the Park Rangers don’t all have either a cell or radio-phone. 
• people love to help a gal in trouble but aren’t too sharp on varied innovative solution routes.
• I feel like I need to ask people permission to hug them in the US,  unlike the UK where a good dose of hugging all round happens at the drop of a hat and especially on soccer pitches.

pictures gradually being posted on flick-r

wendy:  goodmorningLatino lady emptying the bin outside the hotel:  goodmorning (big smile)

later

Wendy:  I’ll take the stairs, we wont all fit in the lift

2 Latino ladies with room cleaning trolleys:  (giggles)

In Seattle when I greet or talk to the Latino people emptying the bins or cleaning the rooms at work they rarely reply, I’ve never seen them smile.  I’ve learned to treat them as if they aren’t there.  It makes me feel uncomfortable.   I don’t know any Latino people.  The only places I see them are on the streets or in support roles like gardeners or cleaners.  Here in Charlotte the Hotel staff appear more open to sharing superficial niceties.  I feel less akward being me. 

No pedestrian crossing’s or sidewalks in this district.  Everyone drives.  I just wanted to pick up some supplies from a store near my hotel without getting into the car.  A low slung car pulled up as I looked for a gap in traffic to cross the road

shiny black man:  wanna ride?  white-toothy-grin

Wendy “thanks,  but no thanks” yellow-toothy-grin

He pulled away.  A helpful native?  A guy with a thing about skinny older white chicks?  Someone surrupticiously working out whether I was a street walker? A budding serial killer?  I’ll never know.

Outside the deserted suburbian strip mall Hotel a group of men loiter, smoking.  No-one is white.  The Hotel provides free ’beer’ (lager) to residents between 4 and 5pm.  This fills the lobby with the elegantly labelled ’business men’.  The mature manageress proudly referred to the hotel’s 20yrs history and recent renovations to suit it’s business clientelle.  It certainly meets basic needs.  It is in some taste of finery that doesn’t permeate my senses.  It feels bland.  Only the people make it special.  She complimented me on my ‘cute accent’.   I returned the compliment.  Her drawl is kind to the listener and speaker.  No hurry,  think before you speak,  its ok to ponder. Even the lifts are slow. I like it.  She giggled as if no-one had ever told her she sounded cute.  Her cell phone rang,  she left…

In the foyer an attractive 44yr old black man talked about his business.  He’s training chef’s across the east coast.  He pondered on how he came to this point in his life.  An easily shared story of college and job changes. He has a french speaking friend from the Ivory coast who now owns a cafe somewhere in Paris.  He commented that I looked European.  I giggled.  Can he not hear my accent? Is this a subtle form of politeness?  He asked if I can spot Americans.  I looked at his faded,  XL t-shirt and khaki cut-off cargo pants while pondering telling the truth. I told the truth without citing khaki cargo pants or t-shirts.  Then my colleague arrived wearing khaki cargo pants and a t-shirt and we left to meet 3 more American people,  all of whom wore khaki cargo pants and t-shirts.

Two students using Apple computers in a coffee house with a free unsecure wireless access point to create and ad hoc network so that one can give the other copies of her ‘Office’ programs. 

Just the opening phrase ‘turn off your fire wall and enable file sharing’ made my gut twist.  

Setting up an ad hoc network on an Apple computer is not an inutitive task based experience. 

The experienced Apple user had done this before. I watched her ’back track’ and try different things before she successfully created the network.  She recognised when she did the right thing but was unable to recall (big human memory load) clear steps.  There were numerous obvious usability issues,  for example, when making the connection it was unclear whose credentials were needed,  the local or remote PC login.  Anyone familiar with the necessary technical pre-requisits to set-up an ad hoc network could probably complete this task but the steps are not clearly laid out in a user task centric format.  I was able to understand and follow what the technically able Apple user was doing.  I would have had trouble working it out myself. 

After the Office programs were installed on the newer laptop they concientiously remembered to turn-off sharing,  turn on the firewall, and drink their coffee.  Phew….

I’m still a bit confused about how one Apple user can give another computer a program (in this case Office) without there being any credit sent to the company that sells that program.  Why would Apple want their users to be able to ‘give’ away programs?  If I owned a business writing quality software programs this would deter me from writing programs for Apple computers because I would only get money from a few sales before the users were simply sharing the program for free,  leading to my business failing and my having to go home and live with mother.   

I’ll be flying between Seattle and Charlotte when England play Sweden.  Aaaarghhhh…. ….I should have checked out the World Cup schedule BEFORE booking my flights.  There’s a risk I’ll see the end of the game   ….I may also catch the end of the ‘Trinidad and Tobego’ match on Thusday if I can find a place to work ‘online’ and watch the match at the same time…

in Charlotte, NC. 

Anticipating hot balmy southern nights.  I didn’t bring mi’ mack.  Ooops.  Alberto, the first tropical storm of the season is here.  Today’s CBS report comments:

‘the heaviest rain – probably 2 to 4 inches - is likely in Georgia and the coastlines of the Carolinas, with most of Florida getting only an additional inch or so and some areas staying rain free’

Tropical storms and their bigger sibbling ‘hurricanes’ are a completely new experience for me.

I plan to get wet rather than spend my brief, valuable touristy, time mack shopping (yuck!)  

Attempting to avoid ‘going over the top’ in Black Adder IV:

Baldrick:  I have a cunning plan

Black Adder: “Well, I am afraid it will have to wait. Whatever it was, I am sure it was better than my plan to get out of this by pretending to be mad. I mean, who would have noticed another madman around here?” killing myself

BBC reports that according to a US official “it was hard to see why the men had not protested about their situation” and according to a Lawyer “one of three who killed themselves was due to be freed but did not know it“.  

While people watching alone on the balcony at Neumo’s a guy stood ‘next’ to me.  Actually about six feet away.  Um no, five feet away.  Or is that four feet away…. ….his slow side-stepping towards me was a tad CREEPY and mildly funny… …when 2 feet away…

guy:  “Have we met before?”

wendy:  that’s an original opening question.  Naturally, I wasn’t expecting the Spanish Inquisition. Do I know him?  “I don’t think so“,  darn,  I wish I’d said something witty and engaging.

guy: “what’s your name?”

wendy:  pauses to choose real or fake name.  Because he’s a bit creepy like the nudge-nudge man, I choose the fake name “Wendy”

guy: “No, I don’t know you” walks away.  A well delivered punchline.

later, between band performances

guy:  returns and nudges me twice in the arm….  …I nearly choked on my beer….

Now imagine the above conversation with the ’guy’ played hammily by Eric Idle with an outrageous (US) accent and Wendy played by John Cleese with a plummy British accent, wearing a dress, bowler hat and smoking a pipe. 

Can you see it?

Extremely good value       

3 chirpy performances in Nuemos for $9: 

A very pregnant black gal,  Kimya Dawsons,  sang difficult to hear lyrics in a ‘peepy’ cute sounding high pitched voice while deftly managing to play guitar around her pudding bump and commeting that her lungs were currently squished up a bit.  I caught a few worthy lyrics… “It’s like farting in the bath”.  When not performing Kwimi, unpretentiously,  sat at the merchandising Tressle table.  One of her Albums ($10) was called.  “Hidden Vagenda“.  I nearly bought it for the title alone. 

Skinny, white, German Barabara Morgenstern bounced around the stage while reaching to play her electronic keyboards.  The perky high energy gal provided a stark contrast to Kimya’s performance.  Her music reminded me of the 1970’s exploration of keyboard possibilities.  It felt like a ‘retro’ sound,  yet fresh and cheerful.  I couldn’t understand any of the German lyrics. 

The Mountain Goats,  2 boys 1 base guitar, one acoustic. The set was mainly from Sunset tree,  new songs and some from ‘Tape number 2″.  Quality delivery,  John Darnielle is witty and personable,  punctuated with short stories about Darnielle’s favourite Boxer ‘Pinkerton’ and details about song inspirations. Before seeing them perform I thought,  this guy is messed up,  if he ever gets sorted it will ruin his musical talent.  After seeing them it was clear that his talent stems more from astute observation that ‘messed-up-ness’.  Thoroughly enjoyable.

Space Needle 11pm June evening

Originally uploaded by :: Wendy ::.

after a couple of beers in good company (LaCroix, Anne, Jen). Just to be clear, its not a Pie and its not a Hole. It is a bit fuzzy…

a careful inspection of the chart below reveals some spectacular truths.  For example:

1. Jenn (Piehole) is on track to become like Raymond (oldnewthing).  They both have very shiny black hair and tanned complections.  I’d never realised this similarity until Excel pointed it out to me,  but its undeniably true. 
2. I am going to have to turn into Jen (quarterlife crisis) before I can make headway on being as popular as Jenn.  Jen and I both have fair skin and wear jeans.  It’s striking how Excel can spot these similarities and show you the way.

I’m planning to keep consulting with Excel to improve my general popularity level,  eventually becoming like Raymond.  My next move is to get a good tan and maybe some contact lenses to make my eye’s brown.

note: edited to adjust the number of n’s in Jen because I got it COMPLETELY wrong

 Match point, well executed though lacking originality :)

Recommended for people who fit in at least one of the following categories:

• are fascinated by watching talented actors with unusually large top lips (Jonathan Rhys Meyers and Scarlett Johansson) deliver weak dialogue with buckets of sultryness.
• adore listening to plummy English accents.
• thrive on wathcing classy delivery of bit part’s by outstanding actors like Brian Cox and Penelope Wilton
• are committed Woody Allen fans, enjoying his style and pet obsessions irrespective of how familiar they are from his previous films.
• have not seen Crimes and Misdemeanors. Angelica Huston and Martin Landau did a good job originally. Is this a remake? l don’t think so. It’s difficult to tell.
• can’t help enjoying themselves when they see the gherkin or any part of it.

Excellent acting and camera work but way too familiar plot with some rather weak dialogue.  l wouldn’t watch it again.

Pathetic Person Advisory (PPA):  look away now if you can’t bare soppiness ⁽¹⁾ 

When I get home-sick ⁽²⁾ I take a trip to ScanDesign and look at the furniture.  The wood is mainly an orange shade with simple lines.  My parents home is packed with co-ordinated Scandinavian teak furniture.  In the 1990’s, when I had no furniture, I begged them to leave thier front room to a Museum as an intact example of 1970’s Chic.  It still is 1970’s Chic. Only now it’s really cool and I’d rather they left it to me,  not that I could afford to ship it to the US.  

Now,  my front room looks frighteningly similar to theirs.  I am becoming my parents. I have exactly the same dining table. When buying it I didn’t think,  ‘oh my parents will like that I must buy it’,  I thought wow that’s beautiful, cheap and I need a round table.  The English cultural icon King Arthur made the need and value of a round table quite clear.  My current table was oblong and identical to my parents’ table.  Buying a round table marked my independence.  Later,  when I visited the biddies, I discovered they had replaced their oblong table with one identical to mine.  The good news is that my parents will feel very ‘at home’ next time they visit.     

Notice the blue glass grail-like challice on the shelf?  It’s Marimekko,  I have grown into a scandinavian design adict. I’m not looking for a cure.  It just is.  I’ll live with it.  On a related note,  I’ve noticed some Ikea products sneaking into my bothers home.  Nothing sinister,  just a chair and a bed….

1. I gather from this Times Online article that soppiness may well be a British trait
2. In this case, home = living with my parents.  I have way too many ‘homes’,  different cities,  houses,  countries…. 

Overheard in the US:

• “I’m Swedish” says a rotund lady with an American accent that reveals no hint of Scandinavian rythm.  She demonstrated no sign of the stylish dress sense I’d witnessed on my trips to Stockholm and Linköping.  I didn’t ask ‘how’ she was Swedish.  I was only evesdropping on the conversation.  The American she spoke to accepted moved the conversation to another topic.
• “I’m Finnish” a slender girl in an American accent told me.  “How?” two of her grandparents were born in Sweden before becoming naturalised American citizens.  She had met her grandparents though never visited Europe.   She knew very little about the country.  I didn’t mentioned my lineage.  She didn’t ask. She appeared to be enjoying telling me about hers.  I was enjoying being an attentive audience. 

The US authorities do not legally recognize dual citizenship.   It seems you can be a US citizen and declare yourself ‘as if’ native of another county.  To be a native of another country doesn’t require having the benenfit of parents born in that country,  speaking the language, or having visited that country. 

My father was born in the Karelia isthmus when it belonged to Finland.  He holds a Finnish passport and emmigrated to England aged 19.  I was born after he became a British citizen.  My parents were both British citizens.  I know a bit about Finland by virtue of visits to relations, holidays in Scandinavia, stories from Dad, and cultural objects around my parents home.  But that hardly qualifies me to say ‘I’m Finnish’.   I am English.  I only lived one year in Scotland and spent numerous vacations in Wales and Ireland.  I suspect there were probably some Vikings in my mothers family tree.  By American conversational convetions I can probably say ‘I’m Viking’.  Watch out for the pillaging,  its overdue….