Friday, 9 November 2007

Worms with gout? That's just silly.

Mainly sunny, 5 celcius

Sure enough - tiny list of construction material clutched in my sweating palm I walked into Tapis Cowansville to ask for grout. With Microban.

'Pardon? C'est quoi ca?'


Now, I don't know what I'm talking about in English - trying to explain my construction needs in French is just asking for disaster. At least I knew enough not to simply say, 'Microban' louder.

I explained it was 'quel que chose' for 'pour, ah, pour ah -'.

More people arrived and lined up behind me - I could feel them growing restive.

'Pour -', by now I'm fluttering my hands as though the words were just out of reach. At least I looked French. 'Vert.'

'Vert?' the man behind the counter and the two people behind me asked. Now 'vert' spoken in French, depending upon the context, can mean glass, green or worm. It seemed unlikely I'd need grout for any of these things.

'Microban,' I repeated. 'Vert'. I waved. The people behind me settled in for a long wait. The man behind the counter stared. Perhaps with time, he clearly thought, my medication would kick in.

'Ah,' a new voice behind me said. 'Des microbes'.

'Oui, oui,' I almost cried. 'Des microbes.' I smiled luminiuosly at my savior and put my fingers almost touching, as though microbes were the size of aspirin.

'Ca exist pas', rumbled the man behind the counter. 'Suivant?'

After protesting that it must exist, the man looked it up and explained yes, there is such a thing as anti-microbial grout - but it just isn't available. This felt more and more like asking for directions and being told, yes, the town exists, you just can't get there from here.

I stood silent - stumped while the people behind me tried to decide how best to dismember and cook me. Then I ordered regular grout and left. It was a victory all around. Upon arriving home with my bag of grout (Michael looked suspicious as I trudged through the kitchen with it) I took it to Gary working upstairs and he laughed.

'Well, we don't really need the microban anyway.'

I suddenly thought of Edgar Allen Poe and the 'Tell-tale Heart'.

Had a wonderful dinner with Kirk and Walter last night - though ironically when we arrived they announced they were on Weight Watchers! Not exactly a Burning Bush, but pretty close. And Walter still managed to make the meal mouth-watering. When we're on a diet at home all I really do is microwave endless quantities of broccolli, then wonder why we don't stick to it.

Am going to be doing my first live 'On-line chat' tomorrow at noon with Jill, who is co-ordinating it and desperately trying to drag me into this century, has explained how I need to hook up to something, then download thingy, and sacrifice a virginal chicken at midnight (at least I think that's what she said), and order a bag of microban, then something magical occurs and voila, I'm on live on line.


I nod and smile and try to look intelligent while reading these instructions. Little does she know she really is dealing with a moron. The first time I used a mouse I picked it up and touched the screen with it. This would have been bad enough, but as fate always has it I was in the middle of a quite large conference at the Canadian Broadcasting Corportation (my former employers) as we were given a course on 'new' technologies. In front of everyone I confidently, and slowly, took the mouse, leaned forward and tapped the screen.

Nothing happened. Except some snorts behind me. I only thank God I didn't then - realizing my mistake - speak into the mouse. 'Helloooo.'

To this day former colleagues tease me about the mouse incident. Har, har.

I was telling this to Linda Lyall, the amazing woman who designs and manages my website and she told me this story....

'My mother thought it was very nice of the computer company to give her a handy pull out cup holder for her tea, sadly this was discovered to be her CD drive.'

If you have any technology ninny stories, please tell me. Ninnies love company.

Susan Mackenzie - a network producer with the CBC and a close friend - is arriving today to spend a long weekend with us. She cooks - we eat. I'm beginning to notice a pattern here. Sunday Michael and I are taking her on a spa day to the Auberge West Brome then brunch.

Life is good.

See you tomorrow - be well.

No comments: