the Language of Love

I spent two years in Japan in my early twenties. I like to think I was tapering off in my developmental years because a lot of that time has affected me. Take for example, Winnie-the-Pooh. Pooh, always just Pooh or Pooh-san was very, very popular and it became my thing to collect things with Pooh on it. Winnie-the- totally got lost in his name.

So now, ten years later, I still call him Pooh, and I still collect things with him on it. Mostly socks, pjs and my most favouritest-in-the-whole-world coffee cup. So, I can sit curled up in my comfie chair on a Sunday afternoon (having just woken up at 3:20 pm, thank you, insomnia) with a cup of Pooh, and my girl completely understands what I’m talking about.

Although today, my Pooh cup is not so steaming, as the girl got up several hours ago.

Also, this story has become hugely nautical. Have I mentioned Alberta is an inland province? And Lethbridge is practically sub-desert? I need sailing lessons!

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