Poutine

I've finally decided to do it. I have a blog. Last night, as I lay awake estimating how many hours of sleep I had left before Wiggle Man woke up, I thought about what to name this fine piece of writing. So why Poutine, you ask? Well, it's just darn yummy. (For my American friends reading this, poutine is french fries with gravy and cheese curds.) Super delicieuse! I, of course, cover all that with ketchup. Feel free to be grossed out if you want, but you'll never steal my poutine, will you? That's what I thought.



Then, I looked up the meaning of the word 'poutine.' Depending on who you ask, it means anything from pudding, to bad stew, to mushy mess. I thought--hey, this blog will be a mushy mess of all kinds of things. Poutine works! Those of you reading this will be treated to the latest accomplishments of Wiggle Man, my first born; the trials of losing "baby" weight...ok, and PRE-baby weight; marriage; chickens (the ones we raise, not so much eating them); the ups and downs of being an alien in a foreign land (it's different, I PROMISE) and whatever else comes to mind. This will be, to quote one of my high school english teachers, "verbal diarrhea."



Enjoy.