Stealing A Story From Mr. Spit

Mr. Spit blogs!

Except, now we have to argue over who gets to blog what. This from a family where we have emailed each other at the same table. We've instant messaged rather than walk into the other room. We are, how you say, geeky? And now, I'm going to know how his day is going and what he's up to, before I even see him at home, peering over the top of his computer screen.

Oh, oh, maybe we can even debate dinner ideas and who's turn it is to wash the mastiff slobber off the walls in our comments. That'll be fun for y'all. (Can you tell it's my turn this weekend?)

So, I'm going to steal his story. And it's entirely possible that I won't tell it as well as he does.

Mr. Spit wanted the new Joe Satriani record. He actually wanted to buy it. You know, on a CD, like when we were young. (Me, I use iTunes). We went to the great Canadian Record Store. Which is possibly the only record store left in Canada.

So, I bought the CD. I went to the cashier and she asked:

"Are you a big fan?"
Nope, said I. I'm not into Satriani. It's for my other half.
"Oh, is your partner a musician?"
Nope, an engineer I replied.
"Oh, is he in a band?"
Umm, no. He's an engineer. He builds bridges. Not very musical, that.
"Does he play the guitar?"
No. I think he played a brassy sort of instrument in high school.

So, there we have it, your introduction to Mr. Spit, who is not a musician, is not in a band, and doesn't play the guitar. He builds bridges that don't fall down, helps the fishes mate in culverts, fixes things, carries heavy stuff, kills icky bugs, and he called me his best friend.

Oh, and now he writes a blog.

Love you babe!

Now, can we go get milk and a weight watchers 4 point chocolate cake from Safeway?