Aujourd'hui j'ai visité le Musée Normantique. Tsé laa Normantique, comme Normand + Antiques. (lol + sweeeet). 

Ben Normand et sa femme Denise on transformé une vieille grange en musée du patrimoine québécois tout en respectant le cachet d'origine du bâtiment (et en installant une toilette sèche suédoise bad ass sans odeur!)

J'avais le coeur qui avait le goût d'exploser.. leur collection est magnifique et en toile de fond, il y a St-Alexande-de-Kamouraska tsé.  

Mais j'étais aussi face à deux êtres humains qui appartiennent au passé.. et j'ai été encore plus touchée de les rencontrer eux.

On ne pourra jamais créer de musée qui reproduira fidèlement le tempérament, les expressions, l'humour et les petites habitudes de nos aînés.

We were all really to blame for the twin-turbocharged John Deere that had gained sentience and began patrolling the city, looking for ungroomed lawns.

When it first got free, the Mayor was super angry. How dare we let a semi-autonomous bag of spinning knives loose on the playground near us? When would it stop, he asked, before realizing that the Deere was busily mowing the front lawn of City Hall and doing a pretty good job of it. Then he started to compliment us, speaking loudly over my explanation that we hadn’t really finalized the child-detection code yet before it figured out how to drive through my garage door and escape.

To tell you the truth, though, we had a lot of free time now, at least until it ran out of gas and held up another liquor store for a forty of Pennzoil and unfiltered low-ethanol 91 octane. The Mayor was happy because he got to take the tax money that would otherwise be spent on lawns and sock it away under his pillow, which was on a yacht moored in the Caymans.

What none of us could expect was that one day the lawnmower would run for office itself, trading on the well-known Deere family name to boost its name recognition among decided and undecided voters alike. Its campaign of low taxes and cheap high-octane, low-ethanol fuels resonated with those same voters as it made promises it could not keep, and shredded tax bills with great ceremony upon the wood-and-astroturf stage of its press announcements.

I rushed to the Mayor’s office in those awful last days of his reign, helped him feed paperwork into the shredder. What we hadn’t known before the explosive leaks to the media was that the shredder was a distinctly pro-blades kind of guy.