Oh, that creepy fan gal

If I were a mind reader then I'm afraid there might be at least one person I'd catch thinking those thoughts the next time we run into each other. Well, and I don't understand what I did wrong. See, it happened the day after the Phillies clinched their division title and I was riding, what should we call it - the metro or PTA or - a bus! Then I noticed another passenger wearing the said team's hat and I figured he would be a real fan and perhaps a real American and therefore happy to chat about the game. I was wrong. There was something that made him basically run away from me after we got off at the same stop. Well, he could have filed it off as another odd foreign experience and be done with it but no - we happened to ride on the same bus again, only two days later.

Two sets of triple paned windows

are the best and the worst asset of this rental place called home. I think that at any given time I'm more likely to believe that its virtues outweigh the flaws. Sunday mornings, however, may be when I turn a side thinking: Oh, I hate those windows. Sunday afternoons are usually different. Take today. Tim left and took summer with him so it's gray outside the windows and we sit on the couch in the living room. The living room window is open. When cars drive by we hear the splattering sound they make plowing through half an inch of rain. But even over the sound of cars and water and occasional dribble of rain we hear music. It's classical music performed by the Estonian National Opera on a temporary stage set behind their building and almost directly across from our windows. It's their market day with a medley of popular tunes from this season's repertoire and discounts on tickets. Since there are trees though in the park, we can't see more than few members of the orchestra, occasional ballet dancers hopping by when it's their turn and clusters of colorful umbrellas in front of the stage. We've already heard Wagner and Rossini and some local composers; they'll save Verdi, Bizet and Strauss for the grand finale.

Normally, and yesterday was no exception, we get a fair idea of how many couples get married on a given day. You see, the department of vital statistics and their civil marriage unit are just a few blocks up the street and even though there's a major crossroad between the Palace of Happiness as the building is called and our house we still get a good amount of wedding processions. So, I'd say three a day on a summer Friday or Saturday was the norm as we learned. And a week after 8/8/8 there was just the same amount of newly married couples cruising by under our windows as there were on that big day: 5, I believe. What has surprised me is that most of the corteges are short, up to three cars. But there are, of course, 15-car lines as well. And one thing Mike and I have learned this summer that I doubt we would have in Fred is to differentiate between the hoofsteps of a horse and loud tapping footsteps of a high-heeled lady.

Speaking of corteges, when was it that the German chancellor visited Tallinn? Two weeks ago? - Yes, Aug. 26th, shows a quick research. Anyway, the police closed some streets for her drive from the government building to the president's residence and our home with its street-facing windows happened to be on the route. We had a good seventh-floor view then of the dozens of shiny black cars and of policemen in yellow safety vests trying to keep pedestrians from crossing the street.