Instead of just playing to be a mummy on Sunday, I will probably be like one. Well, I walk more like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, than an Egyptian, but maybe if I add some toilet paper around me... and try not to drop my head.
Anyway, I have injured my neck and I shouldn't write a word now. I probably shouldn't do anything at all, but the kids wanted to have a carved pumpkin, so that's what we did then. I mumbled in my mind how bloody American that is and we should celebrate kekri instead. I didn't say anything, because I wasn't sure what I meant. When I was young, there weren't any festivities during the autumn. Nothing at all to lighten the dull grey days and besides the pumpkin looks great.
We're going to celebrate J's sixth birthday party soon.
J: Have you bought the plates? T Fox: Yep. J: There aren't any pictures of Winnie the Pooh on them? Because that's for dummies and babies. T Fox: Watch your words young man... J: You promised I could get a crown. T Fox: Yep. J: Can I be dressed like Jafar? T Fox: No. [taking a blanket away from the bed] J: Could you leave that and fold it as a pillow? T Fox: Why? J: That's my sarcophagus. T Fox: Your what? J: My sarcophagus. I will surround my head with the toy animals and place my feet on the pillow. When my quests arrive could you give me my crown, so they can see I'm a resting king. T Fox: Why would anyone be interested in seeing you as a resting king, when they're coming to your party? J: I don't know. [saddened] T Fox: Why can't you just play a king who is awake? J: I don't know. [cries] T Fox: [tries to figure out something nice about living kings] I don't think kings lie like that anyway, it's would give an image like the king would be... A (4): The kings do sleep, Mom. T Fox: Yep. A: Maybe J could play a sick king?
So, apparently on next Sunday we're having a jolly birthday party, with a sick king theme. Any ideas for the decoration?
There she was like always. Dressed on her rosy pyjamas, smoking her fourth morning cigarette. She landed her hand on the fresh morning paper and made a gentle glance towards her loving companion, still sleeping. It was 6.30 am. Her hair is whiter than I remembered, thought she and looked at the news again. It was dark outside. Demanding drops banged the window. It was so silent.
Suddenly she heard noise behind the front door. Heavy footsteps, sudden squeak of the wet wellington. Then nothing. She looked at the paper again. "The City of Helsinki plans to declare itself a smoke-free city at the beginning of next year" she read and lighted another one. Someone tried to open the door. Sounds of movement. Scratching. Was that a small howl?
Her tottering walk led her towards the dusky hall. A key was stuck into the keyhole. Whoever it was behind the door, was becoming impatient. She looked at the door. It's silence was shaken with a furious twisting. A sound of fist cracking it's wooden surface. She heard annoyed noise behind the door, saying: "Let me in, you son of a ****, I know you are in the kitchen!" The voice was familiar. She opened the door.
Neighbour: What has happened? Is there a fire? Taiga Fox: Why didn't you let me in? There must be something wrong with my key... .... Oh dear, wrong door!
So, a week or more of watermelons and winter. No proper blogging, no commenting. Just a broken broadband and an autumn holiday.
Day 1 Freshly picked, outgrown watermelons! Who said there are polar bears roaming on the pavements of Helsinki? God they were delicious. Not the bears.
Day 2 The cubs visit a museum. The guards wish they were unemployed.
Day 3 It starts to be horribly dark. The sun rises and sets sooner than you can notice.
Day 4 I see a car accident and a death of a woman.
Day 5 Gosh, it's November soon, but Mr. Fox gives me flowers, so I really don't care.
Day 6 At the amusement park. Stuffed inside a plastic helicopter rising noisily up in the air, I remember how much I fear heights.
Day 7 Stuffed inside a movie theatre. Cars, super size popcorn and loud kids.
Day 8 Countryside. Sauna. Heavy rain.
Day 9 It's freaking cold. I stand at the backyard, have a rake in my hand and stare at the snow. Later I stand in the local bar, have a pint of too sweet cider and stare at the former punk star who sings Goan reggae songs.
Day 10 I wish I had just one free, lazy afternoon, when my biggest concern would be to consider whether to bother finding a mobile for ordering a pizza or not. I film a dark road movie. I'm a poor woman's Tarkovski.
Day 11 I have a broken broadband and I'm trying to find my way out from the bottom of my undone jobs.
Day 12 Forget everything I said about the darkness. It's even darker now. I almost sleep at the theatre, watching a depressive circus about a lack of communication. My only joy was to get a free packet of butter. But the broadband works.
Vähän myöhässä tällä viikolla syysloman vuoksi, mutta Valokuvatorstain 22. haasteen aihe sopiva: syksy. Tänä vuonna syksy tuli hiipivän hitaasti ja ensilumi satoi kukkivan konnantatteren päälle.
I'm little bit late this week, after having a rather nice holiday. The 22th subject of the Valokuvatorstai is the autumn, which has been quite peculiar this year. After the long lasting summer we had the first snow yesterday.
Aristotle Catfish: Good Morning gadders. Stejar Strahl: Ecnednopserroc fo ytiliba ym tsol evah I ekil smees ti. Aristotle Catfish: What is your friend trying to express? Eiseemi Laxi: Drow a dnatsrednu t'nac I, llet I dluoc woh? Aristotle Catfish: Are you all retroflexers? Ella Salmon: Diputs rehtar eb ot strats lla siht noinipo ym ni. Aristotle Catfish: Try singing. Stejar Strahl: The boy named Table met Lilly Flower Smally Small and sat on the bee. They needed water. Where, where, oh where they thought. Lilly Flower Smally Small cut a picture on the wall. They looked at their papery pool. Aristotle Catfish: Oh, excellent, I've been waiting for your companionship for years to arrive. Follow me, Mr. von Strahl.
The dog barks. I wake up. Mr Fox wakes up. The loud doorbell voice bounces around the otherwise silent house. Mr Fox goes to check out who's behind the door. It's not Granny Fox. A strange, skinny, bearded man stands on the porch. Mr Fox: Do you know anyone from here? Me: Not really. Who is that? Mr Fox: Well, it's some man. He's almost naked.
There really was a man. He was wearing just black underwear. Man: Let me in! Mr Fox: Who are you? What do you want? Man: I want Saara! Mr Fox: There isn't any Saara living here. Man: She is there. I know!
The conversation went on and on. The naked man didn't believe she couldn't find Saara from our house. Finally the man started to be desperate. Man: Where is Saara then? Mr Fox: I'm so sorry. We don't know her. Why are you naked? Who are you? Man: I don't know. Mr Fox: Where did you came? Man: From Toivola of course!
The man didn't remember his name. He didn't know why he didn't have any clothes on. He just remembered he and Saara had moved away from Toivola. I called my Mum. Me: Do you know any Saara living at the neighbourhood? Granny Fox: Oh. There is one living near the station. Me: Saara lives near the station. The naked man looks confused. Man: Sounds familiar. Please, let me in.
He was somewhat blue in colour. It was + 6 ° C outside. What could have we done? Let the strange, naked man to come in ? But we didn't see what really was behind the door. Maybe he was hiding an axe or a friend there? Why was he knocking on the strange doors in the middle of the night? Why wasn't he wearing any clothes? It was easier to wash the blood away from the naked body, though.
On the another hand he was freezing. I saw his blue, dead body in my mind. I saw our axe-murdered bodies in my mind. We threw a blanket from the window and called the police. The man sat on the porch. Man: Please. Let me in. I'm not bad. I'm really not a bad person. Mr Fox: Sorry, no. Man: Okay. Could we just have a chat then? What kind of music do you listen?
We didn't hear what was his favourite piece of music. The police came and took him away. Early in the morning I found his wet clothes and a wallet from the backyard.
There was Saara's credit card inside the wallet. They had just moved living quite near to us. He was drunk. He must have fallen down and taken all his wet clothes off. The houses look all pretty much the same. But instead of finding his loving, but possibly angry wife, there was a strange man inside his home, telling him that Saara (obviously a wrong one) was living near the station.
I thought how utterly confused he must have been and how ashamed and confused he must be now. I thought why I couldn't trust anyone anymore. Then I saw a black plastic bag on the porch. Me: Oh my god! It's Saara! Maybe he didn't remember where he left the remains of his wife. I opened the bag. It was filled with rubbish, leftovers from the workers repairing the roof.
The cubs were having a conversation. They couldn't decide which vegetables to take with them to the harvest feast.
J: I'll take a banana. A: I'll take a clementine. J: That's not a vegetable, silly. A: I'll take a chocolate bar then. J: That's not a vegetable! A: Ok. I'll take an egg pudding then, pour it on my head and add two blueberries at the top of it! J: You should be a delivery pizza instead. We'd have a free ride!
------------------------------------------------- Finland Today ------------------------------------------------- (Read this from the paper.)
Mother: Look there's a crow! Child: Oh. What kind of a ring tone it has?