Tuesday, September 27, 2011

According to Rachel: dubious compliments edition

We are having a beautiful early fall here in Ottawa. Warm, sunny days, chilly nights, and cool, crisp mornings. It's making deciding what to wear difficult. You don't want to freeze in the mornings, and you don't want feel too hot in the afternoons.

The girls are reluctant to give up their shorts, and have been wearing a hoodie over a teeshirt with shorts and running shoes to school. This morning, I put on a denim skirt, a dark red, scoop-necked teeshirt, and a camel-coloured cardi on top to keep me warm on the walk from my car to my office.

Rae: You look like a ketchup-ed hot dog today.

Me: A what?

Rae: Your teeshirt is like the hot dog covered in ketchup, and the sides of the sweater look like the two parts of the bun on each side.

Me: That's very observant. Is it a compliment?

Rae: I don't know. How does it make you feel?

Me: Not really good, to tell the truth. You're right about the colours, but do I look like a hot dog to you?

Rae: Only a little. You're not made out of pork, though.

Me: ....


  1. We're down here laughing over this one. That girl is so funny.

  2. hahahaha... out of pork though.

  3. Jen - She has her moments. I was watching the news last night and saw the coverage of the protests on Parliament Hill against the Keystone pipeline. Mounties were arresting the protesters. I was reminded of *your* funny daughter, asking the Mountie if he thought she could order a telescoping nightstick on eBay.

  4. Nat - I am a bit porky these days, especially after all the Carp Fair food last weekend, but I don't really want to be reminded of it by my kid.

  5. I love your child.

  6. Pat L5:56 PM

    I think Rachel is a ham!! That must make you part pork, according to gene logic.

  7. This is so funny, starting with making ketchup a verb. At least there was the acknowledgement that you are not made out of pork.

  8. Trying to formulate a joke involving the term 'long pig', but I'm just too damned tired. Once my friend looked up, half asleep and without glasses, at her husband, who was dressed for work in black pants and a long-sleeved red shirt with a logo on the left side of the chest and muttered "I married a Wiggle".