Quotes from the book (7)

When buying CD's, I adopt certain techniques which are completely different from the ones I adopt when buying books. The former (almost) never happens at random. Either I know the artist, the label or the genre, or I have been reading reviews online or in specialized magazines.

The latter, however, almost always happens at random: most members of my readable collection are the result of brief browsing sessions, in which my attention always ends up being captured by one book or another - for reasons I can't really explain. Could be the title, the words of international acclaim on the first few pages, the picture on the cover or even the first sentence. I seldom deliberately buy a book, unless someone really suggested me giving it a try.

The last book I read, 'Me talk pretty one day' (David Sedaris), drew my attention because of the title. That, and the fact that the London Times described Sedaris as 'possibly the sharpest and funniest observer of human weakness at work today...'.

And yes, it is a funny book. Judge yourself!

Tired of embarrassing myself in front of two-year-olds, I've started referring to everything in the plural, which can get expensive but has solved a lot of my problems. In saying 'a melon', you need to use the masculine article. In saying 'melons', you use the plural article which does not reflect gender and is the same for both the masculine and the feminine. Ask for two or ten or three hundred melons and the number lets you off the hook by replacing the article altogether. A masculine kilo of feminine tomatoes presents a sexual problem easily solved by asking for two kilos of tomatoes. I've started using the plural while shopping and Hugh has started using it in our cramped kitchen, where he stands huddled in the corner, shouting: "What do we need with four pounds of tomatoes?"

I answer I am sure we can use them for something. The only hard part is finding someplace to put them. They won't fit in the refrigerator, as I filled the last remaining shelf with the two chickens I bought from the butcher the night before, forgetting that we were still working our way through a pair of pork roasts the size of Duraflame logs. "We could put them next to the radios," I say, "or grind them for sauce in one of the blenders. Don't get so mad. Having four pounds of tomatoes is better than having no tomatoes at all, isn't it?"

Hugh tells me the market is off-limits until my French improves. He's pretty steamed, but I think he'll get over it when he sees the CD players I got him for his birthday.