It was very subtle, actually, but the signal was there. Something about the man was a little off. Not the hat, it was fine. It was an old NHL hat, last season’s design, but OK. It wasn’t the windbreaker – we were on a boat, after all – and it wasn’t the pants, although they were kind of big, and baggy, and not in the cool way. But I didn’t notice that until afterwards.

After I had seen the subtle signal.  

He smiled at me which was a nice enough gesture for me to forgive him for cutting in front of me in the line. Besides, I could tell he was traveling with friends who were already standing in front of me.  

But. What made me do a double take was this:

The man had his shoes on the wrong feet. 

As long as I have known how to read, I have been wondering about one thing: Why are there so many spelling mistakes in signs people put up in public places. You know the ones. "Wet pant" and so on. I estimate that 85 percent of such notes are misspelled one way or the other. 

Because they used to be handwritten notes, I always thought the reason was just that people were too focused on making them look good, so they were just a little too close to the paper or cardboard or whatever it was they were writing on. But these days everybody’s making their notes on a computer so that theory doesn’t hold up anymore. 

OK, if you’ve lost your camera, maybe you’re upset about it, so you type a note fast, print it out, and sprint back out to tape the notes onto trees. I guess you have other things on your mind then so mistakes happen. 

And on the other hand, when you see a spelling error, it seems pretty petty to go up to somebody and point it out, right? Nobody has done it at the local library, anyway.

 Until tomorrow. 

Inspired by whereiwrite.org. They didn’t ask for this, but I took a photo anyway.

Sometimes it’s difficult, even impossible, to see cause and effect in things and I suppose it may be meaningless as well. Since Doc Brown’s DeLorean did get destroyed, we can’t go back in time, and what’s left is just a game of second-guessing.

The other day, I made a short trip to Finland on Finnair. I always check out the in-flight magazine out of professional curiosity and courtesy and this time, what caught my eye was a column about Finnish architecture.

Continue reading →

About a year ago, I mentioned that I keep a list on my desk. Here’s another list of mine, but this one has only existed in my head until now. These are the Top 3 Worst Answers to Anything.

1. “You should understand that, you’re a smart person.”
2. “I was kidding, don’t you have a sense of humor?”
3. “Lighten up, it ain’t that serious.“

They all put whoever is saying it in a position of power, and make him/her an authority to evaluate (and judge) others’ intelligence, seriousness, and the quality of their sense of humor.

And to quote George Costanza: “Where do you get the ego?”

How do you not want to buy this modeling set:

I think I need one.

Anybody who’s spoken with me in the last two years, knows that I often begin my sentences, “I heard in a podcast that…”

Because I listen to a lot of them. On the bus, the subway, driving, at the gym, you name it.

But I realized today, walking towards the Old Town in Vienna that, whenever I’m in a new city, I don’t want to listen to my iPod. I want to hear the sound of the city, even if it is the same old sound of cars driving by.

There’s the odd clonk of the trams, the honking, and the lacking of it. The muffled sounds of everything when there’s snow. And I don’t want to miss it.

Ari Lepistö on entinen kolmosdivisioonapelaaja, entinen joukkuekaverini, entinen erotuomari, ja entinen valmentaja. Rupattelen Arin kanssa lätkästä säännöllisen epäsäännöllisesti, viikottain.

Kas näin:

09.11.2011:

22.11.2011:

This one’s for the lady in the house.

About thirty years ago, I was standing on wooden stands set next to an outdoor hockey rink, watching my father in a game. He was wearing an orange sweater, and if my memory serves me correctly, he was the fastest player on the ice.

Then, out of pure pride, and excitement of the game, I yelled at the top of my lungs, “Go, Dad!”

Everybody around me laughed.

It took me – literally – years to figure out why they laughed. And then I realized (and this still just my theory) that they thought it was a) cute and b) a little dumb to yell just “Dad” and not use his name. There were probably a lot of Dads out there.

But I know my Dad heard it, and felt good, and skated even faster.