When I was a young university student, I often spent weekends at a farm some 40 kilometers north of Helsinki. That was where my grandparents lived, sharing a yard with my uncle, my mother’s brother who was a half-time farmer at the time.

I had made that same trek on weekends as a child, when my parents and I would drive up to see Grandma and Grandpa. The town was a 40-minute drive from Helsinki. Close to the action, but completely in the countryside. Claim to fame: a mental hospital.

» Continued

Number one!



July 9, 2010 » Interlude


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Merry holiday (of your choice) and a happy new year (of your choice)!

Counting down Top 9 of 2010 .. next stop: Number 2!



April 26, 2010 » Naming rights
On our hockey team’s trip to Sweden in the late 1970s, one of the players fell in love with Hubba Bubba chewing gum, because he could make huge bubbles with it. Of course, one of them exploded in his face, covering it completely, and leaving him picking gum off his face for days.

We, the rest of the team, decided to call him Hubba Bubba.

Ironically, that didn’t stick.

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Counting down to December 24, here''s the Top 9 list of the year.

At number 3...


March 7, 2010 » Born To Be My Baby
There we were, reading the paper, eating toast, drinking tea, talking about stuff we saw in our newspapers. So, Brother-in-law, even at this point, seeing Girlfriend - your sister - giving birth to a child, and myself becoming a father, seemed very surreal. We were just having breakfast.

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We're almost there. It's so exciting!

Nummmbbeeeerr fooooooour:


August 26, 10 » Discovery channel
All my life I’ve been waiting to get discovered. It may be because I’m lazy by nature, although I think that since I’d simply like to be discovered for what I’ve done - instead of just playing the lottery - I think I’m not a complete slacker.

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Without further ado - really: Number 5.

July 20, 2010 » No Sweat
Of course, the line between the good sweat and the bad one can be a bit blurry at times. For example, a good workout sweat on a T-shirt that’s forgotten in a bag for three days and then pulled out may force other people at the gym to cover their noses with their shirts.

(Or, at least I’ve seen one guy do it once, doing a shoulder workout next to me, while I was doing bench press).



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A little linguistical joke there with the headline. See, "seis" is number six in Spanish, but it also means "stop" in Finnish. And, so, I thought ... well, you get it.

Counting down to Christmas here, peeking behind number 6.


March 23, 2010 » Open Letter to the Renovation Guys
Gentlemen,
Welcome back to our humble home. It’s not always this humble, but ever since the tiny water damage in the upstairs bathroom, we’ve had to make some adjustments.

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Less than a week to go! Counting down the Top 9 of 2010, we've reached number 7.


January 10, 2010 » Sink or swim
"I’m in the water. I’m telling myself to stay calm. Breathe. I inhale and move my arms and legs fast. I seem to be floating. Maybe I can do this after all. "

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The countdown continues. A brand new archived story - how's that - every day between, well, yesterday and Christmas Eve. Every day!

Number eight
April 8, 2010 » Mormor
Back then, Wife had a roommate, and I remember her telling me wonderful stories about how the two of them would cook dinner together, and then eat in front of the TV, watching their favorite show.


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So this is Xmas, and what have you done?

Last year, I published a Best of the Millennium list here, delighted to see that I had 40 entries on the list. This year, I only have nine, but that's fine, considering I made it a Top 9 list.

I’ll post a link to an archived blog entry every day between today and Christmas Eve. (That's why it's a Top 9 list). Consider it your R-advent calendar. Hope you like it. Tell your friends.

And without further ado … Nummmbbeeerrrr niiiiiiiiiiine:

» Continued

There's a pile of newspapers on the table here in the coffee shop. I'm looking at them because this happens to be my table. It's a pretty big table, seating six, except that my suitcase takes up one seat, and the piles of newspapers two.

» Continued

Cainophobia or Cainotophobia, Cenophobia or Centophobia, Kainolophobia or Kainophobia, or Neophobia is defined as the persistent and abnormal fear of anything new; things, ideas or situations, of novelty. In its milder form, it can manifest as the unwillingness to try new things or break from routine.

Anybody wanting to spread some fear into any organization - sports team, company, army - only has to say the following sentence, and panic will ensue: “There will be some changes made around here.”

But, it’s not really change we’re afraid of, is it? We can’t live without change. For example, most of us living up in the northern hemisphere like having different seasons. Aha! But we know what the seasons are, don’t we? We know what to expect. In fact, we love different kinds of clothes, food, we like variation. (Unless you suffer from food neophobia, and only eat things you've had before).

» Continued

FADE IN.

GROCERY STORE – INT. – DAY
A man is standing at the sausage counter, trying to choose which one to have as a younger man appears behind him, with two children in tow.

» Continued

“Why don’t you put on your coach’s coat?”
– Son, on our way to his bandy practice.

It’s cold out there. It’s cold standing by the side of a huge bandy arena, with the winds blowing the full length of the ice, when the temperature is already in the double digits below zero. My new winter coat is a precious memento from the Vancouver Olympics that I covered for the IIHF, but that’s not the coach’s jacket that Son meant. That’s the 21st century version, but Son was talking about my other winter coat.

» Continued

Dad used to use old military tricks on us kids on the hockey team. At one point, he would try to create peer pressure so that we'd police each other, instead of him coming after whoever did something silly. And, yes, kids do silly stuff.

» Continued

“Remember what the sign on Walt Disney’s desk said: ‘Always be yourself’”
– Dad, all my life

When people hear that I write a lot about hockey, their first question is usually, “oh, what’s your favorite team?” And when they realize I’m a Finn, living in Sweden, writing about hockey, the question gets modified to, “who do you root for when Sweden plays Finland in the World Championships?”

» Continued

It’s cold in Finland. It’s cold like in Russian hell, as the saying goes here. It’s especially cold for a guy who insists on not wearing socks, but as the Swedes say, “there’s no bad weather, just poor clothing.” So I’m not complaining, because only wimps complain, as my Dad says.

Besides, it’s not like I’ve never seen minus-25 degrees before. Listen up, kids. When I was a kid, I walked to school every day: ten kilometers, on barefoot, uphill both ways. After I had milked the cows but before I went to work in the mines.

» Continued