You know that chilly smell that begins to seep through doors and windows in late October and early November? It’s sharp and it promises below-zero temperatures. Yep, the smell of winter, with a hint of burning wood from the fireplaces of those romantic enough to believe it can kill the cold. Winter is — and I know this will eventually get old but it still hasn’t — coming. (Fun fact: I’m not even a GoT fan. I can take it or leave it. But this is the most wonderfully ominous sentence I’ve come across in a long while, so there.)
Bread and butter
As the weather gets colder some of us are heaving a sigh of relief because they won’t need to watch their eating so much since we all burn more calories during the winter. Others, meanwhile, are starting to have regular breakfasts because they need to put on a few pounds as a means of internal insulation against the cold. I’m the one with the sigh of relief. Big C. has to put on at least four pounds.
You know those people who can eat as much as they want and stay thin? Well, it doesn’t work that way, not over the long term. There are people who can eat as much as they want but they do not do it, so they stay thin. It’s a question of genes and healthy eating habits… which deteriorate into unhealthy ones over time so now Big C. has to re-teach his stomach to accept an additional meal.
As the simplest breakfast possible, he’s bet on bread, butter and jam, which has thrown me in a sweet spell of nostalgia for the times when I was Little C.’s age and my regular breakfast consisted of a thick slice of bread, butter, and either jam or a homemade mixture of salt and a herb that Google tells me is called Sicilian honey garlic. It has a distinctive aroma and goes as perfectly with butter as peanut butter goes with jelly in another part of the world. Ah, the good old times when I practically lived on sandwiches. Now, I make Little C. eat soup at least once a day and go easier on the sandwiches. How things change, right?
Social networks informed me about something called International Pronouns Day this week and I had the most brilliant idea. I will pretend not to notice the obviously political motivation for this Day and propose an International Syntax Day. Not because I suffered through syntax at university, no. Because, let’s be honest, no pronoun or any other part of speech makes sense without context. You want context, you need syntax.
I suggest the Day is celebrated on the 11th of some month or other. I’m not particular about the month as long as the day is the 11th. It’s my favourite number. I’ve no idea why, besides it being slender and symmetrical, and the fact I like slender and symmetrical things. That can’t be it because I also like rounded and asymmetrical things. My love for the number 11 is a mystery that shall remain unsolved.
Anyway, on International Syntax Day people could swap favourite sentence structures, have competitions for most convoluted sentences, and win awards for fastest syntax tree drawing. I will have to stop now because I’m getting shivers and palpitations from the very thought syntax tree drawing could be a competitive sport.
A Profound Meme for Next Week