Funny things happen to me at the end of a software release (we have one every six months) especially now that they occur at the same time as the end of the semester. My finals are almost over — less than two hours to go — but the release goes on. My mind seems to go off in it’s own direction.
It usually goes something like today’s incident. I was walking through the neighborhood supermarché on my way to get eggs for Lisa, who was at home baking cookies. I was thinking about les œufs on my way down the aisle, when suddenly I realized that I’m heading vers le marchand to give him my money without the right English greeting on my mind.
Bonsoir? No. Too formal.
Salut? Maybe. But still not quite right.
“Hi.” Yes, that was it . . . just in time.
This wasn’t the first time I’ve lapsed into French in my head since I started perusing that small Lonely Planet book about Paris the week after we returned from London. But it was the first time I’ve almost burst forth en français.
In a mostly unrelated note. I went looking in Google Earth for the antipodal point of our house (42° 8’53.36″N, 71°31’33.14″W). My hope was that whenever Lisa and I happened to be in Australia, we could say that we’re literally on the other side of the world. (An antipodal point is a spot on the globe that’s connected to some other spot by a straight line that passes through the center of the earth; so that if you had a magic bus — or the ability to realize the plot of a bad movie with an Academy Award-winning lead actress — it’s where you would arrive if you went straight down and just kept going.) Turns out, it’s in the South Seas, about 640 miles off the coast of Australia ( 42° 8’53.36″S, 108°28’26.86″E). Too bad, it would have been a great addition to a holiday newsletter.
(For those keeping track, these might be hints. . . . or maybe not.)