Bond. James Bond.

Mark, seeing a commercial on a US television station, asked me what “Independence Day” means.  I was tired and did not feel up for a historical discussion, so I simply said that it was like Canada Day, but for the United States.  Later I felt that this lazy and somewhat inaccurate explanation would probably be met by a shudder by any American.
But happy Fourth of July to all my American friends!  There is always much discussion about the differences between the two countries, and truthfully I feel a small culture shock any time I visit the States.  No French writing on packaging, the food is different, fruits and vegetables are better, and people don’t say “sorry” when they bump into you in a crowd.  I used to travel to Houston quite often, back in my working girl days, as opposed to my days of being a lady of leisure, and every single time I would show my identification at the airport or the car rental place, someone would say “Oh, you’re from Canada?  I LOVE Celine Dion!”  My conclusion is twofold: that people in Houston really like Celine Dion, and that Americans are a very friendly people.
Friday was Canada Day and I celebrated by taking the kids to the local amusement park with a friend and her daughters.  We had fun, as we always do, and near the end of our visit we went to the games section.  The kids bring their allowance to play these games, and I’m always a bit mixed about it: on the one hand, that is what their allowance is FOR, to spend on special activities, but on the other hand, how many crappy, cheap stuffed animals do we want in the house?  They always play the games where you win a prize every time, and that prize is always a crappy, cheap stuffed animal. 
Last year Jake won a little blue dog, immediately named Woof Woof.  He loved it instantly, hugging it and saying “I finally have a pet of my very own!”  I was strongly in favour of this attachment, since prior to that he was obsessed with EGGPLANTS, of all things.  Every time we would go to the grocery store he would beg me to buy an eggplant, not to eat, no, but to be his pet.  His pet doomed to soften and rot and be thrown out.  So his happiness with Woof Woof meant happiness for me, in that I could take him to the grocery store with relatively little harassment.
Woof Woof was a fairly creative name, as far as my kids go.  Other stuffed animals in our house are named things such as Hippopotamussy, Moosie, Bear Bear, and Tigey.  So on Friday, when Jake lucked out and won a LARGE prize, a stuffed octopus, he immediately christened it Octopussy.
I have been stifling the urge to giggle and call him 007, but at least it goes well with Mark’s beaver, Beavery.
Jake and Octopussy

Octopussy and Woof Woof

Comments

  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

  2. (GAH! Hit enter before I added my last thought.)

    I spent Canada Day cleaning the windows and emptying out my freezer. I’m sure the Fathers of Confederation would be heartened by this sober, frugal tribute to our nation’s founding. Well, not Joey Smallwood — but the rest probably be impressed.

    I think Octopussy is very cute — much cuter than Woof-woof. Good choice, Jake. And now I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable that I’m baking four eggplant for dinner tonight. Don’t tell Jake.

  3. I too am a big fan of eggplants. They are the only truly purple food and they are so shiney. However, I am happy to grill mine on the BBQ with olive oil and not sleep with them (anymore).

  4. Octopussy and eggplants sound like a great Celine Dion song title no?

  5. I’ve always had kind of a thing for eggplants – and I don’t like eating them, so maybe a pet aubergine is the way to go. My kids came home from the downtown Brockville C-day midway with lime green weiner dogs. Which I’m confident have been named doggy or greenie by now.

  6. I’ve never been to Canada but it’s interesting to hear that there is a culture shock when crossing the border.

    Love the names for the stuffed animals.

  7. Hello, Mr. Bond. How do you like my little octopussy?

    I first watched that movie when I was 7 or 8, and I’ve never forgotten that line.

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