Peaches

As a matter of principle, I never attend the first annual anything.
-George Carlin (1937 - 2008)

Good principle, I haven't followed it, but good nonetheless.


On Wednesday of this past week I arrived by aeroplane in Romania. After a long drive I finally reached my destination, a tiny village where you see little old men driving ox-carts while talking on cell phones. What a paradox. When I got to the house that I would live in I politely shared greetings and then rushed off to the restroom, well washroom as they are called here. As I was doing my business (here is where you should stop thinking) a whiff of a strange scent touched my nose. I sniffed, trying to figure out what it was. I had no idea. Soon, I reached down for the toilet paper.

Now, toilet paper has always fascinated me, and the toilet paper in Romania is certainly the most fascinating that I have ever seen. You see, it was pink and orange and had little butterflies fluttering all over it. As I proceeded to examine the design I brought the paper up to eye-level. The strange smell intensified! My superior reasoning led me to believe that the toilet paper was the cause of the fragrance, but I didn't know for sure.

I don't know if it is just me, but the thought of smelling toilet paper is a little bit disgusting. Sitting there on the toilet I had to make a decision. Do I satisfy my curiosity by sniffing toilet paper, or do I just use it and get out? My curiosity got the better of me and indeed I shoved the toilet paper up to my nose and sniffed.

The toilet paper smelled like peaches.

People who designed bathrooms to be private places were certainly good thinkers. I am eternally thankful to them as I must of looked quite foolish, sniffing my peach scented toilet paper. But seriously, what is the point of putting fragrance in toilet paper? Especially food scents! That is just wrong.

Next time you use toilet paper think of me with my peach paper and pray.
-Matthias

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British Detecting...

Politicians should read science fiction, not westerns and detective stories.
-Arthur C. Clarke

I'm sure that quote has a deeper meaning, but at face value I must say I disagree.


I am officially a detective. I have even solved my first case. Let me expound. A minor mystery occurred this evening and it is my fault. When I changed the format of this blog I decided to allow anonymous comment posting. Well, this evening I recieved a comment on the previous post that read something like this:

Anonymous said...

It sounds like the nourishing food is plentiful at the Peterson home. Love all the detail in your writing, I think you should come to my class and share your talents.

To tell the truth, when I first read this I was too busy wallowing in my pride to care who it was from. Then my naturally suspicious nature got the better of me. How in tarnation was I to visit the classroom of a person who goes by the name of "Anonymous"? I promptly wrote a reply to the effect of this:

Matt Roberts said...

Well thank you, although I'm not exactly sure who you are, so it would be quite impossible to visit your class.

Feeling quite clever, I proceeded on to check my e-mail. Then a thought hit me. Did that anonymous person mention the name Peterson? I quickly went back to check, and sure enough, Anonymous did mention the name Peterson.

Then, a strange thing occurred. I suddenly found myself thinking in a British accent. I suddenly started to use my brain to deduct.

I became a detective.

I deducted two things. One, this anonymous person must know my aunt and uncle. Two, this person has a class. The only person who fit this brilliant and very narrow deduction was my dear cousin, Lisa.

See, British television is good for something.

May you never stumble across a mystery you can't solve.
-Matthias

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The life of a live-in designer...

Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines. -John Benfield

Very true.


I am living the life of a live-in designer and I must say that it is marvelous. You see, I am currently residing at my Aunt's house designing a book on her recent trip to Kenya. I am very much enjoying it.

That is not boring.

Do you want a sneak peak? Here is the cover...



Let me describe my day to you.

This morning I awoke at a time that I will not mention. I won't mention this time because of two reasons: (1) I will receive hate mail, possibly even death threats, and (2) My parents might read this and tell me to get up earlier. (Yes, they are not here with me [!] )

I took a very relaxing shower and then slowly meandered downstairs. I prepared a small but nourishing breakfast and then sat in the breakfast nook and enjoyed a beautiful view of the mighty Mississippi River. (My aunt and uncle live in a large Victorian era house built by a wealthy river boat captain. It sits upon a lofty hill, right above the river.)

After my delicious (and nourishing) breakfast, I powered up my laptop in the exact right spot to receive the full effect of the warm sunbeams shining through the windows. Feeling invigorated by my nourishing breakfast I decided to tackle a few lessons in my English. After I got several A's my aunt arrived home from her workout. We had a nice chat about the benefits of the gym and then my aunt wandered off to take a shower.

When my aunt arrived back at the sun-splashed breakfast room we began to work on the book. After several stressful brainstorming sessions we finally decided that it was time for a nourishing lunch. The breakfast nook had transformed into the lunch nook and we took our time eating while looking out the windows at the snow covered gardens.

In the afternoon we worked quite dedicatedly on the book while eating delicious and nourishing snacks. When we weren't working dedicatedly on the book we were exploring our tastes in music and having doctrinal discussions.

Soon it was time to eat again. My aunt prepared a very nourishing supper and then rushed out the door to make it to her Bible study on time. My uncle and I went into the sitting room and sat on the overstuffed leather couches. We ate our supper while watching the old British adaptions of Sherlock Holmes. Then I worked on writing an essay about my life. After I got finished with the 5,840th day of my life I returned to the sitting room to watch an episode of "Pushing Daisies." Then my uncle decided that it was time to watch a British adaptation of one of Agatha Christie's "Hercules Poirot" mysteries. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Now, I am sitting in the evening nook watching the lights of a small town on the other side of the river reflect off the surface of the water. Soon I shall retire to my chambers, fall into the king sized bed, drift off to sleep, and possibly dream about lions eating me.

Oh, the life of a missionary.
-Matthias

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