yulia

Oh dude, when Matt and I were living right downtown Toronto we lived on the third floor of a low-rise. It was hell not having a backyard, especially with the two dogs. First thing in the morning before we had coffee or tea or anything we'd have to suit them up, put them on leashes and take them down to pee. It was a huge hassle. Now in between walks we can just let them out the back and everything is hunky dory.

The Polish fam story:

My family is French. Like, super French. Most of my dad's extended family live in Toulouse. The family that lives here speaks French primarily, and are so proud of their heritage it's embarrassing at times.
My grandma passed away a couple years ago, and my dad had to fly out to deal with all of her belongings. Packed away hidden in a box was an old school family tree chronicling my family for a bunch of generations. It was there that he discovered my actual last name (a very Polish name, not the French one we have come to know and love), and a very Polish pedigree dating back a very long time.
Some detective work concluded that my Polish family fled the motherland during Nazi occupation and wound up in France. Afraid of persecution they adopted a French last name and the culture and language as their own, and never looked back. Weird, huh?
So I don't speak a lick of Polish, although I would like to learn it someday. And I don't really know very much about the culture, either...I'm working on it. haha.

Whoa, going to Cali and having banana pancakes, lucky you.