I have an unhealthy relationship with cheese. Not a meal goes by where some form of cheese - sprinkled parmesan on my pasta, a slice of swiss on a sandwich, a smear of cream cheese on my morning toast, doesn't find its way on my plate.
I'm not sure why I'm telling you all of this. I guess it has something to do with this picture:
The beauty of being an international housewise is that you can assemble at 5 on a Friday for impromptu drinks and cheese with women from all over the globe. And lest you think we're all work and no play, I'll have you know this Happy Hour gathering was educational.
I learned that Gouda (seen above with the cute Dutch toothpicks) is Dutch. I've also learned that my pronunciation (goo-dah) is incorrect. The Dutch say hu-dah. For the first syllable, you need to sound like you're trying to hawk a loogie.
See, it's not all tennis lessons and martinis.
I'm not sure why I'm telling you all of this. I guess it has something to do with this picture:
The beauty of being an international housewise is that you can assemble at 5 on a Friday for impromptu drinks and cheese with women from all over the globe. And lest you think we're all work and no play, I'll have you know this Happy Hour gathering was educational.
I learned that Gouda (seen above with the cute Dutch toothpicks) is Dutch. I've also learned that my pronunciation (goo-dah) is incorrect. The Dutch say hu-dah. For the first syllable, you need to sound like you're trying to hawk a loogie.
See, it's not all tennis lessons and martinis.
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