One crisp, fall afternoon, we hopped into the car and took a spontaneous trip out to a lake. We had never taken the boys to this particular lake. In fact, the only person familiar with this lake was my husband. He had worked at a couple of business in the town beside the lake when he was in his early twenties.
The trip was short as we exited from the freeway and turned south toward the lake. On the main strip, my husband pointed to local landmarks. Then, we passed his former place of employment. My husband smiled nostalgically. "Hey, Son. That's where I worked when I was young."
"You did?" Son #1 said as he peered out of the car window. "What did you do there?"
"I was the manager." My husband said proudly.
"You were?" Son #1 said in surprise.
"Yes." My husband replied. "I earned a pretty good salary, too."
"A celery?" Son #1 was confused. "I wouldn't want to get paid with celery."
My husband wrinkled his brows, perplexed. I raised my eyebrows. Then, my husband asked. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I'd rather earn money than celery. That stinks!" Son #1 explained.
My husband and I looked at each other. Then, we giggled. "Hey, Son." My husband called out. "I didn't earn celery, the vegetable. I earned a salary, like money. Celery, the vegetable, is spelled C-E-L-E-R-Y. Salary, like money, is spelled S-A-L-A-R-Y."
"Huh?" Son #1 said. "That's weird!"
"Sorry, Son." My husband responded. "The English language is weird."
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