Carlo’s wandering around the living room muttering “stupid nablopomo,” and “I hate writing.” And I’m pretty tired today too, so here’s a teaser instead of a full post. We bought our dinner again, but this time, no regrets. Well, none but the inevitable junk food hangover. Oh, but it’s so worth it. Do you know what we ate today? It’s all wrapped up inside this package:

Now Carlo’s reading a children’s book about latkes. He’s giggling. Which is not the same thing as writing. So that’s why you’re going to have to wait a bit to learn about poutine. One note: it’s pronounced poo-teen. It’s popular in Canada, but mostly in Quebec. And I don’t know why it’s not better known outside of Canada*. Once when we were visiting Oregon, my sister tried to order it at a fast-food restaurant. The cashier looked at her, blinked a couple times and said “I’m sorry. You want poo what?”

Carlo will tell you more about poutine later. I apologize for the live-blogging experience. I feel like a hockey announcer, narrating the most boring game ever. I promise not to make it a habit.

*There are some notable exceptions to the Canada-poutine rule. Kris of To Be Mrs. Marv recently asked me about my experience of poutine in Montreal. I’m doing some research to give her tips for home prep, as we (and people in general, in the land of poutine) generally get our poutine take-out. I’m still working on the poutine project, Kris!

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