Not Knots for Naught
Chris made homemade scones this morning, and, as we were waiting for them to come out of the oven, Chris and I were practicing different knots that we can use for our ties. (He found a book in the library on the subject.) Chris is a graphic designer for the sort of German version of Macy’s. So, being around all of these fashion people on a daily basis, he has learned that different knots are for different outfits, ties, colors, etc. (I had no idea...) He has often gone to work, only to be stopped in the halls by some window dresser who just looks over his/her glasses at his dress, and says in disgust “Oh, Herr Herpel.”, reaching her arms out, as though to strangle him for his abhorrent fashion faux pas. She then zip, zip, zip robotically reties his tie. From these experiences, he has taken an interest in why, after his reoccurring invasions of personal space, he invariably looks better after having been redressed. So, we were practicing like gay boy scouts wanting that coveted badge, frustrated at the slip knot cleverly eluding us (except that this story involves neckties, see?) Ok, I can’t make it sound any less gay... I digress. As usual.
Chris and I are sitting here, talking about how there are basically two types of people in Germany: those that have a dreamvision of France as the ultimate vacation destination, and those who view Italy as thus. Those who love Italy tend to be a little lower class and those who love France are the intellectuals and the rich. Then, Chris becomes suddenly excited and tells a little anecdote about a family outing to Rome when he was young and how he had eaten one of his life’s most wonderful meals there. Anyway, we’re sitting here in the living room, me with my coffee cup in my had, in my robe (perhaps I should say dressing gown?), with a beautifully tied necktie around my neck, him in the same approximate attire but with scone in hand, and he’s talking about how delightful, simply delightful this meal was that he had 15 years ago somewhere in Rome.
It was then that I realized how wonderfully affected my life has become.
1 Comments:
charming, my dear. it would have been even better if snifters had been involved.
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