28 jars of mustard: A love story

When Patrice and I first started seeing each other in 2007, every day was full of miraculous discoveries.

"Hey, we both have freckles! Isn't that neat?"
"I have that CD too! And that one! And that one!"
"You like root beer? Wow! I like root beer too! What are the odds?"

So many signs. We didn't need convincing. All the mysterious ways of the universe pointed in only one direction. Then one day I proudly revealed the existence of my one-of-a-kind, totally unique mustard collection. My smug grin was rapidly replaced by a stupefied stare when he informed me that he, too, possessed a collection of mustard! Clearly we were meant to be together.

Eva's mustard collection

Five years have passed. We are taking the next step. We're shacking up! This, of course, means that our respective mustard collections are coming together to become one mind-blowingly huge mustard collection. A mustard collection for the ages. I think this calls for a party.

Patrice's mustard collection

How do you translate when your back is out?

DICTATION! It's a sensation, across the nation. Translation by dictation will save me from damnation. I'm filled with elation! This is my vocation! No need for sedation—dictation translation will be my salvation!

New year

Hello 2012. That has a nice ring to it. Twenty twelve. OK, yes, it's been 2012 for a few months now, but I'm still marvelling at it. And what a year it will be! I'm running my own business! It's a leap year! My fabulous boyfriend is moving in! The world will not end! Obama is going to be re-elected! I will learn to control the flow of my chi! I'M GOING TO TURN FORTY! Does that mean I'm an adult?