Bozlish and a Kidnapping

Since we came to Mexico, we've been spending a lot of time with my family in Guadalajara and my husband has been working on an entirely new idiom. He has no qualms whatsoever about mangling the Spanish language, in fact, he seems to relish the fact that he's creating an entirely new language based mostly on the average Spanish speaking three-year olds' verbal skills and his own auditory processing deficiencies. For example, when my grandmother tells him, "Dios te bendiga" (God bless you, something she says constantly) he happily responds with, "Albondigas!" (meatball soup).


In other news:
Balian, my adorably dorky Boston Terrier baby boy was kidnapped! A construction worker, working on a house up on the hill behind us, decided he'd just wander off with my dog the other day. After a frantic search and a rather reasonable greasing of a co-worker's palm (apparently, the kidnapper is not very well liked amongst his colleagues who repeatedly referred to him as 'that lazy...erm...ox'), we located Balian tied up in said construction worker's yard on the east side of town. When we confronted the kidnapper, his attitude was, to say the least, totally unrepentant. Apparently, he'd hoped to sell Balian to supplement his income as the guy who lays down on the building materials all day to make sure they don't blow away in the wind, but didn't bother to check and see whether Balian had procreative capabilities. He doesn't, for which he still gives me dirty looks, and that makes him utterly useless on the Mexican dog black market. At any rate, his response to my husband's demand for an explanation was, that dog's not worth a damn, go ahead and take it back. My husband's reply? "Oh, I'm so sorry. What kind of dog do you prefer so I can get me one."

"I coulda been kilt!"