I haven’t tried poutine. One look at the cheese and gravy covered fries put my gag reflex on high alert, and the smell takes me to Defcon 5. I don’t need to try it to know I don’t like it. I just know. This causes my husband a great deal of stress. He loves poutine and he’s sure that I’m missing out on one of Canada’s greatest delicacies. He thinks I have to try it. He’s even gone so far as to suggest that it’s unpatriotic of me to refuse.
Let’s clear this up right now. I hate hockey, unless one of my children is playing. If I never saw another snowflake, it would be too soon. I prefer my home brewed coffee to Tim Horton’s, and I’ll pass on the poutine.
I’ll wait while you prepare the deportation papers.
Seriously though, I love Canada. I wave my flag proudly and tear up while listening to our National Anthem. I finish sentences with “eh” and refer to a case of beer as a “two-four”. I own red and white toques. I make my kids wear long underwear under their Halloween costumes, and sometimes I apologize to inanimate objects. I’m Canadian through and through, and I don’t have to enjoy poutine to prove it.
So, if that makes me unpatriotic, you can go ahead and throw me out of the country. Just make sure I’m sent somewhere south, preferably with giant mice and Dole Whips (now that’s something that you have to try!). I’ll spend my afternoons in the Canadian Pavilion and never think about poutine again.
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