The Shiz


It's not hidden knowledge that Jacob is highly intelligent. There are some topics--math, physics, engineering, medicine, child-rearing (sarcasm)--that he seems to know everything about. It's endearing and irritating all at the same time.

There are some topics that he is completely clueless on. Like the French language. He his a thick history of mispronouncing fairly common French words. Sometimes endearing, sometimes irritating. I guess we didn't all grow up with a dad who would sit at the dinner table and ask for the beurre just for the pleasure of saying the word beurre. 

Endearing: At our wedding breakfast, he order a Quick Lorraine instead of quiche Lorraine. At the time it was equal parts shocking and hilarious, but now it's 100% hilarious. Sometimes I wake up at night and giggle myself back to sleep thinking about him wanting Quick Lorraine on our wedding day.

Irritating: Referring to a vignette as a vig-net, with the G audible. Ugh. I'm cringing. 

Irritating:  Pronouncing the genre like this : john-RAY. UGH!!!! At least don't Spanish-ize the ending! 

Anyway, we went shopping for a couch after we signed our lease (was that 100 years ago? because it feels like it) and I knew exactly what I was looking for. It's this miniature version of a sectional with a pull-out bed and storage in the chaise. 

This dumb story is getting too long so I'm going to skip to the ending: He couldn't/wouldn't/still can't pronounce chaise.  He kept calling it shiz. So we're in IKEA and he's calling out from across the huge showroom, "Hey! I think I found another one of those couches with the shiz on it!" And he's totally serious and wonders why I'm dying in the armchair. 

So now we have a couch with shiz. Or chaise. Whatever you prefer. Either way, it's big enough for two large people (like me and Jacob) to both sleep through the night for several nights in a  row. You can come visit us now!! 

IKEA pictures. Not my apartment, not my bedding. 








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