Day VII (Part 1)

I was reminded this morning when I got up of a particular incident in Montreal this past Spring Break.

Eleanor was insisting on going to see the botanical gardens. Mind you. We had just trekked through a city where the snow was piled up practically over your heads on either side of the sidewalk. The ice was so bad that I had a complete wipe out in the middle of downtown (while all the French Canadians pranced around in High heels without even wincing at the ice).

So obviously we were going to rag on her for that.

I pulled out my best French Accent and mimicked a tour guide in the Botanical Gardens.

"On your right here, you have the Tree of Canada. Theesss here was thee most beautiful tree in all of Canada. But now? Now...it is dead. NEXTTTT!"

So from there on out, every time we passed a withered tree, bare from the Canadian winter, we were like "OO OO Eleanor! Here is the most beautiful tree in Canada. But now it is dead!"

We beat the joke to death. And by we, I meant I.