Actual conversations today:
Scene: Contemplating a half-finished waistcoat:
Me: Seriously, you can't say "three-sixteenths of an inch" because that's just a number that does not exist in my universe.
Erin: Well, I could say six thirty-secondth, but that's just...well, I can't say it anyway, because apparently I can't pronounce it.
Erin: Right, six thirty-twos.
Me: The only time I use my thirty-twos is when I'm...fighting the French.
Me: Thirty-two pounder guns. Big guns. Throws a lot of lead. Imagine the wreckage.
Erin: Okay, back to buttonholes...
Scene: Contemplating the industrial buttonholer
Erin: So the pedal on the left will lift up the presser foot, and the pedal on the right will make it go. Think gas-go, brake-presser foot. Okay?
Me: Okay, so at this point it's been so long since I've driven, that I'm seriously confused--which one in the gas pedal?
Erin: The one on the right.
Scene: Figuring which side to put buttons on
Erin: Think of it this way. If you're wearing this waistcoat...you can slide your right hand into the openings. So the buttons go on the right, the buttonholes go on the left, if you're wearing it.
Me: Or, buttons on stage left, buttonholes on stage right, if you're looking at it on the table.
Erin: Well, now you're just confusing yourself...
Me: OR, think about if Nelson still had his right hand, it would be slid into his coat all the time. (demonstrates) Okay, got it.