Wash Your Hands

Today I feel good. Yesterday not so. Our neighbour took me to the Emergency Room during the night in a very dehydrated state after several hours of vomiting and diarrhea. So keep away from me and wash your hands, my friend, unless you want to get to know Bob the Nurse.

Finally Spring!

Little Håkan

My natural hair colour resembles that of a field mouse. Please don´t get me wrong, I think it is fine to look like a field mouse, really. Field mice are nice little creatures, and to prove my point let me tell you that I even had one once. His name was Håkan Laamanen and I brought him home in a shoe box without my parents´permission. During his first night Håkan ate his way out of the box and escaped, but fortunately I found him again and he agreed to stay. He lived a happy life and died at the age of two.

Anyway, my point is that unlike little Håkan, I feel no need to blend in with the rest of my surroundings, and so I thought getting highlights in my hair would be a good idea. Last week was extremely "lowlight" as I was alone trying to combine caring fo a sick child with work and study, and I thought getting these highlights would be the highlight of my week. But putting chemicals on mouse fur did not turn out very well this time (either) and so I look exactly as I did yesterday and the day before. The hairdresser told me she was indeed quite puzzled and said that the reason I could not see any change was her faulty mirror. Maybe she will use my dollars to buy herself a new one?

I Remember

Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. Remember me when no more day by day You tell me of our future that you plann'd: Only remember me; you understand It will be late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad. -Christina Rossetti-

I remember and am sad...

Very Tasty

Tasty Microphone

Just Asking

I like asking my 3-year old to tell me how old she is because I find it so cute when she says "three" and shows me her four fingers. However, I realized yesterday that she must have grown out of this phase: - "Hei Anki, can you tell me how old you are?" - "Mom, why do you ask my age again? Are you a neighbour?" - "No, I am your dear mother and you are growing way too fast."

Impulse Behaviour

My home-sickness got so bad last week I acted on an impulse, and with a simple double-click of the mouse I sent my CV with a cover letter into the cyberspace. It landed on the desk of the Head of Clinical Operations of a transnational company with a branch in Finland. I just received a nice email praising me as "an interesting candidate with a great potential of creating a career" at the "World´s Leading" CRO. Why not?

By The Window

The 111th Boston Marathon took place today, despite of very stormy weather conditions. Shoud I have been the event organizer, I would have just cancelled the whole thing. The same wind that prevented planes from landing to Logan Airport kept steadily pushing soaked and hypothermic athletes past my living-room window. As our house is not far from the goal, most of the runners I saw were not running but awkwardly limping and looking like they badly needed the loo, while it seemed that others had used the loo in their own pants already. My muscles are still aching from a 5 mile walk yesterday. I wonder what brings a person to Boston to run 26 miles and 385 yards in heavy rain. That there are tents filled with bagels at the Finish is only one explanation... This is a Marathon picture taken two years ago.

The Pattern

Soon I can proudly say I have read through the entire production of Henning Mankell. The only book remaining is as heavy as a brick and so expensive ($25), that I will consider asking my husband if he could please get it for me as a present. I deserve it, and Mother´s Day is approaching, and it would be good to have somewhere to hide after the party is over... it can also be used as a weapon of self-defense in the unlikely event of a burglary to the house.

Perhaps I have been consuming too many detective stories within the past few months since I am beginning to detect a pattern in each book I read. Regardless of who gets murdered, by whom, where, when, or why, the pattern is always the same:

1. Introduction of the Victim
2. Introduction of the Evil
3. Police arrives at the Scene
4. Wallander throws up

Last weekend, as I was mentally recovering from my own little tragedy, I saw a similar pattern! The scene was a local restaurant...

1. I ordered fish
2. I detected a long worm inside my fish
3. The waitress arrived and told me that my fish is a haddock and haddocks can come with worms, would I like something else to eat?
4. I felt unwell and ran into the restroom

Now I am all paranoid. Who put the worm in my fish? Who would want to harm me? Why use a worm? Why put it in a fish? Why me?? I can never eat fish again!

Only Friday

It is only Friday. But Sunday is coming. This is the message of hope I took home from church last week.

We visited our local church on Easter Sunday. I often hurry past this old building,on my way to work in the morning, thinking it looks much like the Hogwart´s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with its colourful windows, towers and arches. (Yes, I have read some Harry Potter). And so it was no surprise to me when one of the first things I saw when inside was a group of short people in long, black gowns. And it really was kind of magic: When one of them began to wave his wand, I turned into an Easter person! I hope to stay this way for a while.

Time for Nap

It is not uncommon for the little people to get a little tired while going shopping with the big people. But this is a bit out of the line!

The Nest

When I was a little girl, my dad told me that the wind can make itself a nest in a tree. To find the winds´ home you just need to search with your eyes high up between the branches, and with some luck what you might see is a curious big bundle made by the wind. Someone else told me once that this odd woody ball is in fact an illness of the tree, in which some of its branches just turn into a huge knot. My husband is convinced this phenomenon is just a bird´s nest. I am 32 years of age and I think it is time to find out the truth now.

About the Author

The author of this blog is a Finnish woman who has lived some ten years abroad without rye bread and salmiakki. These are the two food items Finns miss the most when in a foreign country. Both of them can cause loose stools if consumed in large quantities, from which you can conclude that the Finns rarely have problems with constipation.

As you are reading this, the author is probably making herself a cup of tea and planning her next move. The move back to Finland.