Once upon a time (ie pre-kids), Steven and I used to travel a lot. On our first visit to one of my favourite cities, Barcelona, I was quite taken with the quintessential Bull shirts and was determined to bring one home.
Luckily, I had taken seven years of remedial middle and high school Spanish. 'Perdon, tienes una camiseta sin bolas? No? Gracias!' echoed through the Ramblas.
Until, finally, an anatomically incorrect bull shirt was found!
'¡Hurra! Me gusta este toro porque no tiene pelotas!' I gushed as money changed hands. The vendor nearly died from secondary embarrassment from my vocab, pronunciation and the sentiment. Sadly, the shirt was retired to the garage by Steven several years ago but don't fret- this tale has a happy ending...
Gleefully refashioned into a summer tank for Jamie!
