While driving past Riverside (the General’s house) today, I mentioned to J that I would like to live there someday.  He said, “Sorry, you can’t.” 

I was amused and confused and asked, “Why not?”

“Those people live there.  You know, the ones who march up and down the street waving flags and singing instruments.  They are called… [he paused dramatically] AMERICANS.  The Americans live there.”

 “Oh, really,” I said. “That’s great, because I’m an American.  And so are you, goose.”

“WOW! I AM?” he asked.  “And don’t call me goose.”