Ducks, Duck Shoes and Painting

Another duck story, I’m sorry….Last night at dinner another couple had arrived, so Brigitte and Phillipe were cooking up awesome food as usual. The main dish was pasta, which of course came with duck, cheese, bread and a couple more goodies. The duck was on the side, so I thought I’d take a duck break for the night. Brigitte handed me my pasta and pointed to the duck, “you put duck in pasta” she says….Why of course the duck goes in the pasta, because why the hell wouldn’t it? It’s looking like I’m going to be solely responsible for putting the beloved duck on the endangered species list. While I’m sitting around on my fat ass looking and feeling like octomom, the duck will be no more. Perhaps I should start a petition to save the ducks now?

Side note: Check out this website! http://flashduck09.blogspot.com/2009/08/step-in-right-direction-for-lucky-duck.html

While looking for this duck picture, I also found a hilarious duck article about ducks and orthopedic shoes, don't worry it's not long. This is the future I'm talking about, take the time.

Anyways, I’ve actually been doing some work the last few days. I now know how to make a bed properly (this doesn’t mean I will ever make my own) and I am working on my painting skills. Brigitte really should know better than to leave me unsupervised with buckets of paint, but I guess she trusts in my skills better than I do. But a big thanks to baby Jesus, that whoever attempted to paint the room before me must have been blind and armless. There was no way I could have done a worse job and Brigitte managed to spill paint on the bed and all over the floor. With the bar set low, I succeeded. Most of the paint that didn’t end up on the wall ended up on me, which is better than the antiques. I’m like a magnet for food and dirt, which worked out well for once. I was wearing one of Phillipe’s old shirts that went down to my shins, so most of me was covered anyway. Oh, and I got to paint the ceiling, while standing on a ladder from about the time this place was built (11th century...). It took Brigitte and I pulling on the ladder for a good few minutes to make it open and once we got it just about right, some important looking metal piece broke in two. This is when Brigitte said that the ladder was okay, handed it to me and let me get started. I guess we don’t have the same safety expectations.