Have been in Phoenix since Wednesday visiting the spousal unit's dad. We'll call him the SUD for short. I should mention that he's originally from Scotland.
Thursday morning I get up and scrounge around for something to eat. The SUD gets up and mentions that his wife eats porridge every morning if I'd like some of that. Porridge? Images of Goldilocks and stories from the Brothers Grimm pop into my head, and I am indelibly intrigued. I express enthusiasm at trying porridge for the first time.
A few minutes later, his wife (American) approaches me with a chuckle. She explains that what she eats for breakfast is oatmeal.
Bloody Brits! Who knew that porridge = oatmeal? I'm convinced that the SUD knew darn well that I'd misunderstood and kept up the gag.
The rest of the time here has been spent working (boo), golfing (nice to see quail and roadrunners on the course in addition to the usual ducks and geese), and learning how to play the nifty game of pickleball. I managed to crush the spousal unit, stowaway and all.
How was your weekend? Would you have fallen for the porridge gag?
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The rantings of a should-be-budding-but-actually-lazy novelist who LOVES her dogs and her spousal unit.
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5 comments:
I envy your warm weather retreat. It's getting above freezing here and I hope the snow will finally melt.
Cat, it's been wonderful, though I hear it's gorgeous in Denver today too.
The dreaded morning sickness seems to be setting in today so I haven't been able to appreciate much other than lying down and closing my eyes.
So, was the porridge too hot, too cold or just right?
Beckeye, my porridge had cinnamon and Craisins so it was just right!
I wouldn't have fallen for the porridge gag.
On the other hand, I didn't discover until I was at Scout camp that the porridge I had eaten all my life was actually oatmeal.
Love the "developing baby" widget up top, by the way.
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