Apparently, I talk about Trump and Putin all the time. At least that’s what my family alleges. Whenever we sit at the table for Sunday dinner, I (allegedly) steer the conversation towards foreign politics.
It’s not true.
I also criticize our own leadership, here in Canada.
And I pontificate about political correctness, the snowflake generation, and why America needed shaking up, hoping some of that rubs off on Canada, come next election.
Change is not always such a bad thing.
But despite the unfair restrictions imposed on my Sunday dinner conversational topics, my wife returns from her Disney/Universal vacation in Florida, with a gift for me.
A chocolate bar.
And I loved it.
Just wait until next Sunday.