I was reminded of all the quirks of being an Oregonian when I read Kismet's "You know you're from Oregon..." post. I got a chuckle out of so many of them because they are so true. My helpful word tip of the day: when you see the word "Willamette," it's will-LAMB-it. There you go. Now you can live here.
Also Oregon related...Jason and I have had to face to bitter reality of paying sales tax again for online purchases because we switched our billing address to my parents' address in Washington, ergo we lost our Oregon tax exemption. It's downright painful to pay that extra 8%. Really. It is.
I sometimes forget about the differences between Oregon and Washington, until I see Sydney acting very much like an Oregonian. Our daily life in Oregon--like not being allowed to pump our own gas--fit into Sydney's playtime the other day.
When Sydney and her cousin Clover were driving their kid-sized car through the kitchen, Clover tried to get out to pump gas. Sydney kept telling her to stay there, and as the "gas attendant" she held out her hand for the "credit card."
Clover was confused.
Sydney asked what kind of gas she wanted. "Do you want to fill it with plus? That's the better kind of gas than regular."
Clover remained confused.
Sydney spent a few minutes convincing Clover to stay in the car because she was going to swipe the credit card, lift the nozzle, fill the tank with gas, and then give her a receipt (using correct terminology and everything).
Clover tried again to get out of the car to pump her own gas. Sydney looked at her in exasperation. "Clover! You can't pump your own gas!"
You preach it, sister.
It will be a whole new experience for her when we move to Washington and--horrors!--we'll have to pump our own gas. Fortunately, I still do remember how to pump my own gas. But I don't have to like it.