A Moment On the Lips and a Lifetime On the Hips

"A Scottish Treat" read the sign at the apple fritter kiosk at the local farmer's market. Curious, Daughter and I decided to fork over the $2 and give it a whirl.

What is it?

Hands up if you said, "Deep fried Mars bar." I am so not kidding.

It's battered and then deep fried for, I swear, five minutes. It has to be the richest thing I have ever ingested. Daughter and I split it and we couldn't finish it. And, yet, I know of an Irish girl who can eat two-and-a-half in one go.

Having been turned off by this was not the reason why I'm glad Husband hired the fresh-off-the-boat Portuguese immigrant over the been-here-30-years-and-still-has-a-brogue older Scottish dude. He's looking for a lab technician and put in ads all over. The Portuguese guy has been in Canada for two years, reasonably good English, wife, two young children. He's currently in the last month covering a maternity leave but will need to buy a car to get to work out here in the country. The Scottish guy was in his mid to late 50s, pretty much runs a lab but wants a slower pace.

I was thinking of writing about the details of Husband's decision-making process, but I'll refrain though I do believe he made the right choice. Let's just say that sometimes I really don't understand the guy.