On respect and props, Canadian-style

There's an old axiom in the world of Canadian entertainment, especially in the music industry, that you won't make it big at home until you earn acclaim elsewhere. Canadians generally refuse to acknowledge home-grown talent as worthy until our American cousins take notice. Bryan Adams, for instance, or the Barenaked Ladies are good examples of this. Sarah McLachlan, even.

My husband continues to be mildly perplexed by my blogging habit. (This is not a non-sequiter. It all comes together - wait for it.) He is, however, generally tolerant of it. For most of last year, he wasn't even reading it until I made blog our computer's home page.

Last night when I got home, I went straight upstairs to relieve myself of my uncooperative pants. Beloved followed me and we discussed snippets of our day. I was about to launch into a reduced version of my epic tale of a malcontent zipper when he interrupted me and said, "I know, I read about it" - as he gave a single tug that mysteriously freed the zipper from whatever paralysis it was suffering as if there had never been an obstruction in the first place.

"Oh, you read it?" I said. Pause. "Did you think it was funny?" (I am so needy for praise sometimes, I disgust even myself.)

"Yeah," he began, "but I can't believe you wrote about being stuck in the bathroom. It was really long but I actually read it all the way through." I am still trying to decide whether there is a compliment in here somewhere as he continues. "Usually, I only read the first little bit and then skip ahead to the comments ."

Ahhhh, it's so much clearer now. "So," I say, "you only go back and read the posts that everybody ELSE thinks are worthy. So that's how it is, is it?"

But I am talking to myself. He has rolled his eyes and walked away. I can't help but laugh.