This is my blog translated into French. I can’t think of a more important way for Google to spend their time…I mean, really. Don’t you just picture a long line of desks in a blue-lit room with a bunch of people from different countries sitting at computers, frantically translating blogs into their native languages? I think I like my site better in French. See what i mean? I feel so smart, so cultured. It looks like I’ve got lots and lots of important things to say. I even look better in French.
I guess those French people aren’t as self-focused as we are over here. They apparently have no translation for ‘about me’.

It makes me think of the time I was interpreting for a student (have I mentioned I use to work as a sign language interpreter? Well, I did. Before I had all these kids, that is). Anyway, I was interpreting for a high school student who asked me if 56 and fifty-six sounded the same when spoken out loud. Wha…..t? But then I thought more about it and realized what a legitimate question it was. In sign language, the number 56 is signed 5 – 6. And if you spell it out, well, you spell it out. But when you say the number or the word in English, it’s the same.

I really do love languages. I’ll have to share more about my life as an interpreter. There are many wonderful tales to be told. In the meantime, check out your blog translated into French. It’s cool. And it will make all those people in the blue-lit room feel as though their work has purpose. It could help to off set the excruciating pain they experience from the carpal tunnel syndrome.

*10:20 pm: It has just been brought to my attention that my blog name has been translated “sky cat”. The real French translators must be on a writer’s strike. Consider my name changed from chatty to catty. Thank you and have a nice day.

Hi. I am being forced against my will to introduce myself. I requested a close up because, well, a full-length photo is too vulnerable for me right now. You see, I’m a bit shy. Understandable, as I have been spending my days in the midst of other disregarded, unwanted…things. And it does a number on a girls self-esteem.
Oh. Oh no. There she goes, backing up. Fine. I can do this. Ok, so I am blue. I have brown trim. I am clean and sturdy and perfect…or so I thought. Evidently, someone else did not think as much, as they sent me off with their ugly pillows and broken radios to the Goodwill. But there is nothing wrong with me. I am not wrong. I am right. Right?
Oh, geez whiz. I’m blushing, can you tell? I guess it’s good to be wanted again. Even if it was for the low, low price of $3. Still, I am wanted. And that is good. But my heart is torn as I consider the friends I left behind. So please. I beg you. Do not forget the tossed-aside and rejected at your local Goodwill.