Some musings from the past few days:
-I am currently reading A Tale of Two Cities, you know, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..." and I am realizing how everyone knows those first 12 words and not much else about it. So I asked Jason what two cities he even thought were involved, and without missing a beat, he guessed Seattle and France. First of all, this book takes place in 1775, which means Seattle did not exist (not until 1869, in fact) and secondly, France is a country, not a city. So the bottom line, friends: don't trust Jason on anything literary or common sensical.
-Nanny and Pa just got back from an exhilarating 3-day trip to Niagara Falls. They packed beers for the bus, enjoyed gambling at yet another casino, and ate a good meal in the revolving restaurant. Their favourite part of the trip seems to be the piece of roast beef Pa ordered for dinner at this restaurant, because they both had to show me the yay by yay by yay dimensions of this slab of beef, which according to its length, width, and height, was about the size of a platform shoe, and frankly, all 3 of us are surprised that Pa is still able to walk around.
-The other day when Jason and I were on Pitt St, we saw a truck that said "Oh les phoques" on the back. Now, I am not a fan of any stenciling of any sort on cars...in Cornwall, there is an abundance of little boys either peeing or giving the finger, and I wonder when we started giving 8 year olds the right to drive. It's about as trailer trash as you can get, and you just know whoever gets out of said car will have a mullet and buck teeth and will barely speak the good English. But this les phoques truck takes the cake, as I'm sure you agree. If you don't know, a phoque is the French word for seal...but you know very well this guy is not just enthusiastic about seals. Apparently it is funny to him to have a French word that sounds like a dirty English word on his truck...which I can totally understand, because I remember going through that phase myself in grade 2. But my mom wouldn't let me spray-paint it on my Blue Angel bike, and I got over it quickly. Yeah.
-Jason started on his new team at work, and after a grim first day, he had only this to say: "No one else on my team is under 60 or under 400 lbs." It's just a bunch of old ladies with hacking coughs who are quite pleased to have such a nice young man join their ranks...they even invited him to their weekly trip to the 5th Wheel for some chain-smoking and gossip on Tuesday night. Jason passed on that one. His second day was maybe a bit worse, because of the persimmons. You see, strolling through the produce section on Saturday inspired us to pick up 2 persimmons (for 98 cents) to try them out. Jason took one to work with him yesterday, and a few hours later I found this urgent message from him in my email: "Do not eat that persimmon!!!" Apparently it was much like eating a sponge, because it sucked all the saliva right out of his mouth, and didn't taste much better than a sponge either. Then he had to work the rest of his shift with no spit, which apparently is a lot harder than it sounds. Let's hope day 3 goes a little better.
-Last night when we were going to bed, I was trying to align the coffee table, and Jason accused me of having O.C.D. (obsessive-compulsive disorder). Let me explain: our coffee table sits in between 2 couches that are at a right angle to each other, so it's a tricky thing to make the coffee table line up with both of them, so I'm often nudging it one way or another, stepping back for a better view, and trying again. But I do not have O.C.D. and you'd think my husband would be a little more appreciate of the aesthetically pleasing lines of the house I keep for him. But no, he just diagnoses me (I knew I would regret asking him to help me study!). So when I denied having even a touch of O.C.D., he then pronounced that I had some B.I.T.C.H.Y. How do you like that? Raise your hand if you think Jason slept on the couch last night.