That is something Hank called what you do when you lose or have your wallet stolen and have to replace everything in it... Well I didn't pay it blue..but more of an aquamarine... I had to pay the 50€ for a duplicate license, 10€ for the temporary one incase the coppers stop me while my dup is being made - I don't look like a raving lunatic axe murderer like Hank, but I didn't want the 35€ fine if they stopped me and I didn't have it - 12€ to the credit people for canceling my cards so they wouldn't be used.. A new travel card would cost 8€, and a new Kela card too..and a new travel insurance card... yaddayaddayadda
..Payed all that money to have my wallet delivered in the post... Seriously. It was found in a trash can and sent to me...with everything in it.. Mom obviously gave me some luck... including at the Roulette table... I hit twice :)
.....
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
The Visit...
..has come to a close. After being awake for 36 hours, and flying across multiple timezones, my mom and sister arrived in Helsinki…I will try not to rehash the whole turist portion of the visit (places and stuff), but I will give a few highlights and opinions:
- Grand Casino Dinner Show – Mom loved it and even got a photo with her and Mr. Rönning for her birthday – to which she promptly remarked as he walked away: “oooh..he smelled GOOD!!!”…He then found us in the casino 5 minutes later and gave Mom an autographed photo with his best wishes for her birthday - very classy of him…and she said he still smelled good. Note: Nina Tapio is a hottie..oh and she sings well too ;)
- Harbor Cruise – sister almost puked after I told her she had just eaten smoked reindeer – Mom laughed to hard she almost peed herself – quality.
- Porvoo – not the easiest place when you’re in a wheelchair but wonderful to see mom with powdered sugar on her cheek from eating a pastry and laughing.
- New Card Game (Riisti Seiska) – addictive to Mom and the sister…45624352 games later they still wanted to play more
- Kauppatori – kitch kitch kitch…of which my sister bought plenty…and mom none.
- Eurovision – Finland WON (hell HAS frozen over) and my Mom was proud :) I think she is secretly Finnish…
- Ratty T-shirts and ripped jeans with disgustingly dirty sneakers is NOT appropriate dinner attire for Saaga..
- Talking with your mouth full of food is gross…and when Mom tells you to stop; you should, or I will kick you.
- Priceless: Mom carrying around 6 grand because she wasn’t sure how much she was gonna need and then forcing 50 euro and 100 euro notes into my hand to help with “paying for parking” (the 3 euros I put in the parking meter was plenty thank you)...all the while my sister is jealously and greedily watching the money change hands. I had to take it even though I protested for 10 minutes that I didn’t want it..when mom says your name a specific way and gives you the “look”..you are instantly no longer in your mid 30’s..you are 12, quietly mumble “yes ma’am” and take the money.
I will admit to crying when my I wheeled my Mom to the gate at the airport and said goodbye. I will also admit to wanting to throttle my sister within an inch of her life for patronizing my mother so much it made me physically ill. Just because mom needs a wheelchair to get around does not mean she is a baby or has lost her faculties damn it. My mother is a very proud woman. She hates being a “burden” to anyone; so the mobility issues she has now which require a wheelchair is quite depressing for her. It also doesn’t help that my sister treats her like she is 2 frickin years old…GRRRRRRR I did discover where I get the ability to get quiet for periods of time and not say anything though. No jokes people..Ask Mira. Seriously, my Mom and I are able to sit together and not say anything and it not be uncomfortable…sister..not so much.
Anywho..I loved that my Mom was here and I am sad she is back in the States…she could have stayed on for a month and I would have been over the moon. Mom is so easy to please. She is quieter now than I remember, but still feisty at times. She was open to trying anything…food, place, experience..I LOVE that about her. I also love having my mom around…not so much on the sibling (in case you didn’t figure that out already).
- Grand Casino Dinner Show – Mom loved it and even got a photo with her and Mr. Rönning for her birthday – to which she promptly remarked as he walked away: “oooh..he smelled GOOD!!!”…He then found us in the casino 5 minutes later and gave Mom an autographed photo with his best wishes for her birthday - very classy of him…and she said he still smelled good. Note: Nina Tapio is a hottie..oh and she sings well too ;)
- Harbor Cruise – sister almost puked after I told her she had just eaten smoked reindeer – Mom laughed to hard she almost peed herself – quality.
- Porvoo – not the easiest place when you’re in a wheelchair but wonderful to see mom with powdered sugar on her cheek from eating a pastry and laughing.
- New Card Game (Riisti Seiska) – addictive to Mom and the sister…45624352 games later they still wanted to play more
- Kauppatori – kitch kitch kitch…of which my sister bought plenty…and mom none.
- Eurovision – Finland WON (hell HAS frozen over) and my Mom was proud :) I think she is secretly Finnish…
- Ratty T-shirts and ripped jeans with disgustingly dirty sneakers is NOT appropriate dinner attire for Saaga..
- Talking with your mouth full of food is gross…and when Mom tells you to stop; you should, or I will kick you.
- Priceless: Mom carrying around 6 grand because she wasn’t sure how much she was gonna need and then forcing 50 euro and 100 euro notes into my hand to help with “paying for parking” (the 3 euros I put in the parking meter was plenty thank you)...all the while my sister is jealously and greedily watching the money change hands. I had to take it even though I protested for 10 minutes that I didn’t want it..when mom says your name a specific way and gives you the “look”..you are instantly no longer in your mid 30’s..you are 12, quietly mumble “yes ma’am” and take the money.
I will admit to crying when my I wheeled my Mom to the gate at the airport and said goodbye. I will also admit to wanting to throttle my sister within an inch of her life for patronizing my mother so much it made me physically ill. Just because mom needs a wheelchair to get around does not mean she is a baby or has lost her faculties damn it. My mother is a very proud woman. She hates being a “burden” to anyone; so the mobility issues she has now which require a wheelchair is quite depressing for her. It also doesn’t help that my sister treats her like she is 2 frickin years old…GRRRRRRR I did discover where I get the ability to get quiet for periods of time and not say anything though. No jokes people..Ask Mira. Seriously, my Mom and I are able to sit together and not say anything and it not be uncomfortable…sister..not so much.
Anywho..I loved that my Mom was here and I am sad she is back in the States…she could have stayed on for a month and I would have been over the moon. Mom is so easy to please. She is quieter now than I remember, but still feisty at times. She was open to trying anything…food, place, experience..I LOVE that about her. I also love having my mom around…not so much on the sibling (in case you didn’t figure that out already).
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
TMI - theraputic spewing..all about me.
I am such a jerk. Sometimes I relize what I brat I am. When I moved to Finland, I was happy about not being so damned geographically close to certain members of my family. Let’s face it, I am not the easiest person to get along with occasionally. Growing up the youngest of 4 children had its advantages. For example, I bold faced lied to my mom that I did’t break my brother’s guitar: “I am too short to reach it, how could it have been me?” I was always the little one (am not the shortest anymore though). My papa called me “peanut”. Which was a shortened version of what he originally called me: “pint of peanuts” because I was so small and skinny. I had stick legs with knobby knees and skinny little arms and a flat belly. Of course, running around like a maniac didn’t hurt to keep the fat off. Oh how I wish I still had that energy.
Right, where was I…oh yeah.: So a history. I have 2 older brothers and and older sister. Mom and Dad were good Catholics and popped out us brats very very close together. There are 16 months separating my oldest brother Roger and my sister Michelle and then 16 months separating my brother William and myself. I am not trying to be a bitch here, but to be honest – Roger and I are gifted. We always have been. We both actually had the problem where we had to take advanced classes and in some cases university level courses during our pre-university schooling because we weren’t challenged enough. The geek lable came early for us folks. It isn’t something we asked for, it just was. Languages, humanities and the like come easy and in my brother’s case, he is freakishly smart with science and math. My other siblings were, unfortunately, not as gifted academically. I say unfortunately because my father and mother put a very heavy emphasis on education and in some cases they put too much pressure on us. There came a time where they finally accepted that William and Michelle were gifted in other ways, but not in the way that made school easy for them.
The pressure to succeed academically was heinous for me. My oldest brother is a certified genius. No joke. He is a freak of nature (in a good way). He thinks in levels that I am just not wired to be able to understand. As a result, Mr. Brain would come home with greater than a 4.0 average (for you Finn’s he got higher than 10’s), be captain of the debate team, in the drama club, Mensa, French National Honour Society, yadda yadda yadda. So the comparison was inevitable.
As a result of all of the pressure my brother felt (or if it is just his wiring), he is one of the most emotionally reserved people I know. He does not form emotional attachments very easily. He is a good person, but just aloof. He doesn’t call family members, shuns family gatherings, and even “forgets” to call my Dad on his birthday or Father’s Day. How much of this is active resentment I have no idea. It was as if everything was reversed. He would be praised for being so gifted and I would have pressure to step up to his level. Now I was, selfishly, reveling in his distance. I became the kid who was always there to help, at every family gathering, remembering EVERYONE’s birthdays with cards and a small gift; always THERE. It isn’t that I did these things JUST to usurp his place as Mr. Perfect. I genuinely love my family. But sometimes I would do things out of purely selfish motives and not because I really wanted to. Looking back, it doesn’t feel so good to have been that shallow.
Anyway, at some point, my selfish reasons no longer existed. I really, genuinely enjoy being there for my family. It was as I entered my late 20’s early 30’s that I really began to realize that I had sort of backed myself into a corner in some ways. As much as I truly loved seeing my Papa every other week for dinner, it became increasingly easy for certain people (my step mom) to guilt me into doing things I really didn’t want to do. It is a character weakness in myself I realize, but she is the world’s BEST at guilt trips. My happiness at seeing my Papa for dinner became a bit soured with the guilt trips I would receive if I had to cancel. It became assumed that I am the good child – where my brother didn’t call, I would call 3 times a week. Where my brother didn’t visit, I would be there twice a month. When their wedding anniversary came around (right before I moved), I was the one that planned the 200 person party – complete with the Priest that married them.
After moving, I was relieved to not have those “responsibilities” any longer. I was happy to be able to call them once a week or have them call me. The pressure (mostly self-induced but not wholely) was off. I do miss them – terribly. But the distance has been healthy for me.
Que the Guilt:
Yesterday I got an email, after my Step-Mom tried to call me twice, stating that my Dad is in the hospital with a rather dangerous infection in his leg caused by staph which entered his system somehow. It is an internal infection, so not contagious, but if not treated could have been life threatening. He loathes doctors in all forms – just like me. I learned that behaviour from him. He insisted he was fine but after a few visits to the ER, they admitted him. He is going to be OK as far as we can tell, but it still worries me. I know his infection is being treated, and that he is getting great care, but I am afraid he won’t follow the Dr’s instructions. I called him immediately in his hospital room when Peggy sent me the email and told him he would do anything to get out of work! He laughed and I almost cried. I really love my Papa’s laugh. It is deep and from his belly. The kind of laugh that wraps around me and makes me feel safe. He is required to be off his leg for 2 weeks. The Dr told him and he said to me: “I am think it is a bit extreme for me to be out of work for 2 weeks.” ---let’s just hope he doesn’t end up back in the hospital…
I feel so damned guilty for not being there and am worried about my Papa. I am the only child that calls regularly and that really takes an active interest in their lives. It makes me so sad that their other children are just checked out.
…right enough whining
Right, where was I…oh yeah.: So a history. I have 2 older brothers and and older sister. Mom and Dad were good Catholics and popped out us brats very very close together. There are 16 months separating my oldest brother Roger and my sister Michelle and then 16 months separating my brother William and myself. I am not trying to be a bitch here, but to be honest – Roger and I are gifted. We always have been. We both actually had the problem where we had to take advanced classes and in some cases university level courses during our pre-university schooling because we weren’t challenged enough. The geek lable came early for us folks. It isn’t something we asked for, it just was. Languages, humanities and the like come easy and in my brother’s case, he is freakishly smart with science and math. My other siblings were, unfortunately, not as gifted academically. I say unfortunately because my father and mother put a very heavy emphasis on education and in some cases they put too much pressure on us. There came a time where they finally accepted that William and Michelle were gifted in other ways, but not in the way that made school easy for them.
The pressure to succeed academically was heinous for me. My oldest brother is a certified genius. No joke. He is a freak of nature (in a good way). He thinks in levels that I am just not wired to be able to understand. As a result, Mr. Brain would come home with greater than a 4.0 average (for you Finn’s he got higher than 10’s), be captain of the debate team, in the drama club, Mensa, French National Honour Society, yadda yadda yadda. So the comparison was inevitable.
As a result of all of the pressure my brother felt (or if it is just his wiring), he is one of the most emotionally reserved people I know. He does not form emotional attachments very easily. He is a good person, but just aloof. He doesn’t call family members, shuns family gatherings, and even “forgets” to call my Dad on his birthday or Father’s Day. How much of this is active resentment I have no idea. It was as if everything was reversed. He would be praised for being so gifted and I would have pressure to step up to his level. Now I was, selfishly, reveling in his distance. I became the kid who was always there to help, at every family gathering, remembering EVERYONE’s birthdays with cards and a small gift; always THERE. It isn’t that I did these things JUST to usurp his place as Mr. Perfect. I genuinely love my family. But sometimes I would do things out of purely selfish motives and not because I really wanted to. Looking back, it doesn’t feel so good to have been that shallow.
Anyway, at some point, my selfish reasons no longer existed. I really, genuinely enjoy being there for my family. It was as I entered my late 20’s early 30’s that I really began to realize that I had sort of backed myself into a corner in some ways. As much as I truly loved seeing my Papa every other week for dinner, it became increasingly easy for certain people (my step mom) to guilt me into doing things I really didn’t want to do. It is a character weakness in myself I realize, but she is the world’s BEST at guilt trips. My happiness at seeing my Papa for dinner became a bit soured with the guilt trips I would receive if I had to cancel. It became assumed that I am the good child – where my brother didn’t call, I would call 3 times a week. Where my brother didn’t visit, I would be there twice a month. When their wedding anniversary came around (right before I moved), I was the one that planned the 200 person party – complete with the Priest that married them.
After moving, I was relieved to not have those “responsibilities” any longer. I was happy to be able to call them once a week or have them call me. The pressure (mostly self-induced but not wholely) was off. I do miss them – terribly. But the distance has been healthy for me.
Que the Guilt:
Yesterday I got an email, after my Step-Mom tried to call me twice, stating that my Dad is in the hospital with a rather dangerous infection in his leg caused by staph which entered his system somehow. It is an internal infection, so not contagious, but if not treated could have been life threatening. He loathes doctors in all forms – just like me. I learned that behaviour from him. He insisted he was fine but after a few visits to the ER, they admitted him. He is going to be OK as far as we can tell, but it still worries me. I know his infection is being treated, and that he is getting great care, but I am afraid he won’t follow the Dr’s instructions. I called him immediately in his hospital room when Peggy sent me the email and told him he would do anything to get out of work! He laughed and I almost cried. I really love my Papa’s laugh. It is deep and from his belly. The kind of laugh that wraps around me and makes me feel safe. He is required to be off his leg for 2 weeks. The Dr told him and he said to me: “I am think it is a bit extreme for me to be out of work for 2 weeks.” ---let’s just hope he doesn’t end up back in the hospital…
I feel so damned guilty for not being there and am worried about my Papa. I am the only child that calls regularly and that really takes an active interest in their lives. It makes me so sad that their other children are just checked out.
…right enough whining
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Karma
I don't know if I killed a nun or kicked a puppy in a former life, however, if there is such a thing as Karma, it just bit me in my abundant gluteus maximus. Yesterday was the day from hell. Not only did I have meetings continuously (to the point where I actually was 5 minutes late for one and had to explain my tardiness because of having to pee - lemme tell ya my PM turned red at that one..hey that is what you get for asking why after I apologized for being 5 fucking minutes late) - my wallet was stolen from my backpack on my way home. Some enterprising and obviously very talented pickpocket removed it from the outside pocket of my backpack somewhere between the main trainstation and home.
I didn't realize it was gone until I arrived at a bus stop and tried to retrieve it (my travel pass was in it) in order to pay the bus fare. I proceeded to dump the entire contents on the bus stop bench (freshly wrapped salmon from the store as well) and frantically search for it...all the while my blood pressure is rising, my heart rate speeding up and my stomach going into a knot that would make a sailor proud. After searching for a good 10 minutes...nada.
Arrive home via tram (thankfully you can buy tickets with your mobile phone here for the tram) and walk through the door. Mira comes happily bounding around the corner to give me a hug and pusu hello with a big smile on her face (it is adorable..she does it every day and it usually makes me smile) when she notices the grey color of my skin and the redness to my eyes which signals eminent tears and stops dead in her tracks. She asks what's wrong and I tell her. She then asks me calmly to retrace my steps in my head and tell her where I was and what I did and also to dump the backpack contents on the bed (luckily the salmon was well wrapped).... Nada again...
So..after inventorying my wallet (what I remember was in it), calls to the bank to cancel my cards, the police to file a police report we finally started dinner.
Karma just gave me no Finnish id, and no bank card, no travel card, no travel insurance card, no web bank codes..... BASTARDS!!!!! The only saving grace of this whole thing (and it is ironic too) is that I am as poor as a church mouse right now and the 1 credit card I have here was actually in my pocket due to using it to pay for the dinner fixings...
We then decided it was time to break into the Moët & Chandon and celebrate that it could have been worse...
So today it is off to the bank with my passport (luckily that was at home) to get them to send me a new web bank code card, then to the police station to get a new license ordered...meetings be damned!
I didn't realize it was gone until I arrived at a bus stop and tried to retrieve it (my travel pass was in it) in order to pay the bus fare. I proceeded to dump the entire contents on the bus stop bench (freshly wrapped salmon from the store as well) and frantically search for it...all the while my blood pressure is rising, my heart rate speeding up and my stomach going into a knot that would make a sailor proud. After searching for a good 10 minutes...nada.
Arrive home via tram (thankfully you can buy tickets with your mobile phone here for the tram) and walk through the door. Mira comes happily bounding around the corner to give me a hug and pusu hello with a big smile on her face (it is adorable..she does it every day and it usually makes me smile) when she notices the grey color of my skin and the redness to my eyes which signals eminent tears and stops dead in her tracks. She asks what's wrong and I tell her. She then asks me calmly to retrace my steps in my head and tell her where I was and what I did and also to dump the backpack contents on the bed (luckily the salmon was well wrapped).... Nada again...
So..after inventorying my wallet (what I remember was in it), calls to the bank to cancel my cards, the police to file a police report we finally started dinner.
Karma just gave me no Finnish id, and no bank card, no travel card, no travel insurance card, no web bank codes..... BASTARDS!!!!! The only saving grace of this whole thing (and it is ironic too) is that I am as poor as a church mouse right now and the 1 credit card I have here was actually in my pocket due to using it to pay for the dinner fixings...
We then decided it was time to break into the Moët & Chandon and celebrate that it could have been worse...
So today it is off to the bank with my passport (luckily that was at home) to get them to send me a new web bank code card, then to the police station to get a new license ordered...meetings be damned!
Monday, May 01, 2006
Shoot me
Okay...04:35 am and we just got home.... Too much alcohol... Folks...my inner kareoke singer came out... Holy hell.. I just sang "Don't let the sun go down on me" in a giant gay bar...
does this mean I have reached rock bottom and require an intervention....Sug? K?...anyone???? Seriously...450 gay men were applauding and telling me how wonderful I am..there is something seriously wrong with this picture....
...right...off to brush my teeth and sleep.... oh and the sun is coming up...
does this mean I have reached rock bottom and require an intervention....Sug? K?...anyone???? Seriously...450 gay men were applauding and telling me how wonderful I am..there is something seriously wrong with this picture....
...right...off to brush my teeth and sleep.... oh and the sun is coming up...
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