Blogger is Kicking Rosetta Stone's Ass!

My Spanish lesson is calling and I'm letting it go to voice mail. Boy, am I gonna be in trouble for that.

So The Jon has decided to go check out the Amazon River in January and has included me in his Peruvian adventure. We will be in Latin America for almost a month so he believes we (I) should speak (and understand - key point) the language. With this thought (fantasy) in mind, he has purchased the Rosetta Stone for Latin American Spanish and is expecting me to spend an hour each day 'in class' (just because he gets up each AM, walks to the gym, works out for an hour, walks to work, spends 9 or 10 hours saving the planet, then walks home and prepares his dinner - and I don't. Please excuse my own language but - WTF?).

Oh, I know what you're thinking. You think that because I am a stay-at-home-bum, kept woman or pampered pooch, that I should be his beck and call girl. Pffffft.

OK, I'm kidding. I get it. I do. His request for me to learn Spanish is not unreasonable since he's totally got my back. And I know I should be grateful for this trip, and I am. Sort of. But you see...

The problem is that I do not learn well those subjects with which I have no interest. And I have no interest in learning Spanish because I have no interest in checking out the Amazon. Hell, even if I DID want to go, I wouldn't want to learn Spanish. Not that I have anything against Spanish - it's a lovely language which I realize could come in handy when in Spanish-speaking jungles. But I am lazy. Therefore, expecting me to dedicate an hour of my busy bon-bon popping (cream puff if you prefer - I'm easy) day to something I am totally NOT INTO, is a stretch which could land us both in a beddy, beddy, bahd place. If I'm at the helm as translator, that is.

How do I know this about me? Because I took flying lessons before and guess what I learned. That I did not want to fly. I aced Flight School, passed the FAA written exam and ever-thang (scored a 97! I'm not a total slouch...), but still learned first and foremost that I did not want to fly. My ex-husband wanted me to fly, but me? Not. So. Much.

(I'll bet you guys thought I was going to say that I crashed a plane. Ha! No way. Only an ultralight. But that was way before I ever thought about flying an actual AIRPLANE. And nobody was hurt... though I must say it was pretty weird to suddenly be above some really tall trees when all I had planned to do was taxi. I'm pretty sure that a hippo wouldn't have landed much harder than me and that silly ultralight - and it was said that while falling, we looked like one.)

See, I'm the opposite of a control freak. (Did I mention that I AM LAZY?) I like to sit back and watch others control my fate, ya know? Well, that's not entirely true. If I sense pending doom I will usually recall that I forgot to feed somebody's (?) cat. Buh-bye. But you get my point.
Me? Translate? Really?
OK, well... he asked if you want to swim a roasted shoe with mustard and sewing.
Not really. He said you need to take me to Paris...

Speaking of Paris, The Jon has taken me there twice. He was born in France and I was not. He speaks a wee bit of the language and I do not. And I cannot tell you how many times the wonderful people of France have told me that the next time I visit their country, I must speak THEIR language. Sure thing, ami. When cochons fly!

Actually I would almost like to learn French. But remember? I am ... what...?... right!... Lay-Zeeeeeeee.

So being the really lazy travel partner that I am, here I sit, blog, blog, blog, hoping that I don't get an unexpected mid-day visit from you know who. But in case I do, you'll be happy to know that I am prepared with my headset on, all plugged in and ready to pull up my minimized Rosetta screen.
Hola querido. ¿Cómo fue su día? ((*-*))

Ooooh. Just saying that has made me feel all creepy guilty. This means I gotta go to Peruville now. So I'll check back after I'm all schooled up. Hope you guys are having a great day - ¡Gracias para está aquí!