Nasty right? Especially given the crazy beard craze that’s been rife the last few years. Thank you Joaquin Phoenix…NOT. Truth be told, you do manage to get away with most anything, like models on a runway sporting absurd clothes, us mere mortals should not follow suite.
Hear this hipster boys? Make friends with Gillette and I promise it will pay off big time. No matter what they say, as they flutter their lashes over a can of piss –oops I mean Pabst Blue Ribbon– no woman wants to get jiggy jiggy with someone harboring small creatures and last month’s lunch in their facial hair. Scruff, yes. Castaway, no.
Wow, I am seriously digressing.
I was on the road in Bangkok today and I saw a motorbike riding along with around 60 or so multi-pastel colored cotton candy packages. In this town, I am used to seeing motorbikes and tuk-tuks carrying way more than seems scientifically possible. Usually it’s some combination of crates of chickens and giant plastic bags of various green vegetables that will remain un-named, since I am far from familiar with local produce.
This was a nice change of scenery and it got me thinking.
In English we call this melted and spun sugar: cotton candy. Sort of makes sense except few people use cotton balls since the advent of the cotton pad. In Thai, it is called silk thread. That really makes sense – it is after all threads of sugar spun around like a silk cocoon. The French call it father’s beard. Really? That’s the best we could come up with? Blech. Maybe that’s why as a kid at the summer village fair, I always opted for the gaufre creme chantilly [waffle with fresh whipped cream] and gave daddy’s beard a miss.
So tell me please: what’s cotton candy in your language?
I have this post I am working on that was supposed to be a quick post and is turning into a bit of a monster along with other drafts waiting to be finished -such is the plight of a mother.
So in the mean time, I want to capture some of the fun things coming out of Pea’s mouth. The other morning she was heard saying behind her bedroom door, having opened it and seen no one in the living room:
“Mama asleep, Papa asleep, Cherry asleep, baby asleep and I have poopoo in my diaper”
Two things struck me upon hearing this
Wouldn’t it be nice if she had said that in French instead of English?
Wow – she shared the fact that she had Poop in her diaper. This makes a nice change from her total denial of poop even when a serious stink is coming from her.
I am choosing not to obsess about the first and rejoice at the second as I am starting to worry at how comfortable she appears to be sitting in her own shit. <sigh> You have to learn to embrace the little things.