Today I went to try a new place for lunch - a sandwich shop a la Subway just a block over from the office. Me: 'Can I have my sandwich on a baguette?' Sandwich Lady: 'We're out of baguettes. We have French sticks though.' Me: 'Um. Ok. French stick. Can I have mustard please?' SL: 'English or French mustard?' Me: 'French, please.' SL: 'We're out of French. We only have English mustard.' Me: 'Tell you what. Surprise me.'

I've been told that when I was a child, I couldn't stand to be dirty. I'd insist on changing 3 or 4 times a day. Apparently, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Ella has taken to meticulously inspecting her clothing periodically. If there are any crumbs or, God forbid, something wet like juice, she immediately strips and brings them to you, declaring "it's messy" or "it's wet." As if to say "This has become soiled. Please burn it." It was cute at first, until she started doing it while company was over, or playing outisde with the neighbor kid, or while standing in line at the bank... Speaking of not falling far from the tree, the other night she fell out of bed. Man was she pissed. This one she didn't get from me, as I've always slept like the dead - but Giuia's parents tell me she was never allowed to use the top bunk as a child...