Conversations

The Point Where Compassion And Mispronunciation Meet

/ Ally Bean / 24 Comments

I’ll tell you straight up that I did not correct this young woman’s pronunciation.

The whole conversation happened so quickly, and I was so slow to understand what she was talking about, that the chance never came in the moment for me to tell her: “that’s not how you say it.”

Plus she was so happy about what she was telling me that I didn’t want to rain on her parade, so I said nothing even after I figured it out.

I’ll also tell you that this young woman is a high school graduate from one of the better high schools in the region.  And that she speaks using perfect grammar + polysyllabic words.  And that she is quite bright about the logic of things.

But here’s the thing, the situation that I found myself in, where I did not know what to do. 

She was talking about her vacation plans, in detail.  She had found a deal on airfare by watching the prices online.  When she saw that she could travel to her western destination with just one stopover in the midwest, she jumped on that ticket because the price was right.

As she had never been to that part of the midwest [and I guess that she missed school the days when the teacher talked about it], she was mispronouncing this city’s name.  At first I didn’t understand where she was going, and then when I did it was– well, re-read my second paragraph.

So here is what she said to me.  She was going to change flights in: my knee A poe Lis. 

Care to guess where she was going?  And any suggestions about how to handle a similar situation should it arise in my lifetime again?

I await your comments below.

Good Morning, Darling

/ Ally Bean / 19 Comments

Zen-Den needed to get up earlier than usual to go to work.  He set his alarm clock, but I didn’t hear it go off.  He heard it and went into the bathroom to shower and shave.  While he was in the shower I woke up.  I often wake up early, so it was no big deal for me to get up.  I went into the bathroom where he was now shaving.  The following conversation ensued.

# # # 

Him:  Was it the noise from the light that woke you up?

Me:  No, it was the light from the water running through the faucet that did it.

Him:  Oh good.  I didn’t want to bother you.

Me:  Hmm…  *smile*

{a minute of silence}

Him:  What did you say?  How did the light from the water running through the faucet wake you up?

Me:  It woke me up because the noise from the light didn’t.  *snicker*

Him:  Oh.

{30 seconds later}

Him:  What are you talking about???

Me:  I’m talking about why I got up.

Him:  What?  Wait a minute… you knew what I meant!

Me:  Yep.  But it’s so much more fun to confuse you early in the morning.

Him:  You make no sense.

Me:  I know.  *giggle*

# # # 

… And who rocks at Mind Games 101?

I do believe that it is Ms. Bean.  

Oh yes, I do.

The Lighter Side Of Marital Miscommunication

/ Ally Bean / 12 Comments

We were watching a football game on TV.  And by we were watching I mean Zen-Den was watching the football game and commercials, while I was looking through a stack of home decor catalogues… and aware that a game was on TV.

In one of the catalogues I saw an outdoor small table with two chairs that at first struck me as something that we might want.  The table and chair were made of metal but looked like twigs had been put together in such a way as to create a table and chairs.  Very chic.  I thought that they might work on our deck over against one wall for me to use at noontime when I’m eating lunch by myself.

So I started to show Z-D the photo of the small table with two chairs, but in mid-show I decided that I didn’t like the table and two chairs after all.

Z-D wasn’t really paying much attention to what I was doing.  No surprise there.  Instead he was staring at a commercial for Cialis— and as with all commercials for Cialis the serious male announcer voice was telling us very important information.

TV commercial:  “Blah, blah, blah… When the moment is right, will you be ready?”

Me, referring to the photo in the catalogue:  “That’d make nervous if I had to look at it very much.”

Z-D, thinking that I’m watching the TV commercial:  “Why?”

Me, staring at the photo:  “Because pieces of it stick out funny.”

Z-D, still thinking that I’m talking about the topic of the TV commercial:  “Why would you care about that?  That’s not your problem.”

Me, getting ready to turn the page in the catalogue:  “Because I’d have to sit on it and that’d be uncomfortable.”

Z-D, finally paying attention to me:  “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?”

Me, handing him the catalogue with the photo:  “This chair that looks like it’s made of twigs.  Why?  What’d you think I was talking about?”

Z-D, dissolving into laughter: “The commercial on TV for ED.  I thought you were watching it.”

Me, indignant then realizing what I’d just said:  “No, of course I wasn’t watching that… HEY WAIT A MINUTE.  You thought I was talking about THAT?”

Z-D, staring at me in amazement:  “Yep.  And you were darned funny, too.”

Cross Examined At Breakfast

/ Ally Bean / 16 Comments

I walked into the kitchen the other morning wearing five pocket straight leg jeans and a t-shirt.  I was carrying my sweater to put on after I ate breakfast, but before I went out the door.  The following conversation ensued.

~ • ~ 

Him:  You have sparkles on your butt.

Me:  [shaking my tail feathers]  You like?

Him:  There’s shiny stuff on your back pockets.

Me:  [reaching for the carafe and pouring myself a cup of coffee]  Pretty, huh?

Him:  What are those sparkles doing on your butt?

Me:  [pushing him aside to get into the pantry]  They’re fashionable.  They’re just there.

Him:  Does your sweater cover your butt?

Me:  [ripping open a breakfast bar and biting into it]  I dunno.

Him:  Well, if it’s long enough your sweater will cover the sparkles on your butt.

Me:  [taking another bite of breakfast bar]  Yes, and if it’s short enough you’ll see all the shiny on the pockets.

Him:  Is that what you want?

Me:  [eating my last bite of breakfast bar]  I don’t care.

Him:  Here, put on your sweater.

Me:  [putting on my sweater]  Okay.  How’s it look?  Sparkles or not?

Him:  Your sweater covers part of your pockets.  You’re only half shiny.

Me:  [slurping my last slug of coffee]  Okie dokie then.  I’m a sparkly half-ass.  It’s confirmed.

Him:  Why’d you buy those jeans?

Me:  [grabbing my purse from the floor where I’d put it beside my canvas tote]  I bought them because they were on sale.  I don’t care what happens on the backside.  I don’t see it.  And they fit really well.

Him:  Hmmm.  Yes, they do.

~ • ~ 

And this my friends is what it’s like being married to a lawyer.  He can’t just say “pretty.”  Oh no.  He has to get all the details first.  Establish a fact pattern.  And then he’ll comment.  If he’s in the mood.