the first entry that comes up is about the isle of skye in scotland. i'm delighted. here is an opportunity to sound smart. i shut down the window and lean back from the computer, combing my fingers through my admittedly-i-should-have-washed-it-today hair.
i casually glance at barclay. mario is carefully making his way through bowser's castle.
"so," i say, in my best nonchalant voice, "did lydia name skye after the isle of skye, the largest and most northerly island in the inner hebrides of scotland?" or something to that effect.
he pauses. mario races on. "i never thought of that. i don't know."
he looks at me.
i smile sweetly.
cue puzzled face.
"wait. why did you even think of that?"
i smile sweeterly. er. "i'm smart. i know stuff."
he doesn't even blink. "but seriously, why did you think of that?"
so i guess he didn't marry me for my brains.
for the record, he feels bad for inadvertently insulting his dear wife, me, and wishes me not to paint him as being a bad guy or call him a "goomba" in this post.
so i'll direct your attention to skye ellery, the cutest little goomba you ever did see.