What She Said . . . . What I Heard

This is a creative non-fiction which means I’ve exaggerated a little.

Thanks, Dampemic. You’ve made communication more difficult as if it wasn’t already hard enough. Masks protect us but they muffle our speech, so many times the message you hear isn’t the same that was spoken. Here’s an example of a conversation my wife, Mimi, and I had while grocery shopping. Mind you I’m pushing the cart behind her while she searches the shelves. She talks to me as she’s walking, but not facing me so the sound travels away from me. It’s a science thing. Also, she speaks softly, some Seinfeld fans would describe her as a low talker, but I think soft talker is a more pleasant description.

     Mimi said, “There’s no seeded bread.”

     “Huh, sorry I can’t hear you.”

     She repeats, “There’s no seeded bread.”

     I hear, “There’s no pita bread.” Then I responded, “Oh! Do we need pita bread?”

     Mimi turns toward me. “ No seeded bread.”

     I hear. “No kneaded bread.” I scratch my head. “I’m not positive, but I think all bread is kneaded.”

     Showing her frustration she says, “No, doofus, SEEDED bread.”

    “Oh! You mean Italian bread with seeds. You could’ve just said Italian bread.”

     Shaking her head. “You probably would have heard Stallion bread.”

     “I’ve never heard of Stallion bread. Is that something new?”

     That’s when she pulled her mask down and stuck her tongue out at me.

     Laughing, I said, “Well, that’s not very adult.”

   

It’s just Butter

This being Friday during Lent we decided to have grilled cheese for lunch. Since we had recently been to the grocery store we had Italian bread, cheese and a new tub of butter. We love grilled cheese, it’s comforting. So easy peasy one might say. Well, yes normally that would be the case. 

     It’s never been a challenge to open a tub of butter. It usually has a tab on the side that you pull on and the strip of plastic comes off. Viola’ the butter is open. I did exactly that, but a the small tab broke off. No biggie, I’ll just get a pair of pliers and yank the sucker off, but no joy. It held on like a child holds on to a hand full of your hair.

     Thank the lord I have tools, so I grabbed those I thought would do the trick. A screwdriver, tin snips, and razor blade knife. With the pliers I had successfully ripped off a dozen chunks of plastic that were now strewn over the counter and floor, but unsuccessful at achieving my goal of removing the lid.

     The screwdriver was useless and the tin snips just created more tin bits of plastic to clean up. For the love of God it only butter. Both my wife an I had epic failures in our attempt to open this butter container. To make it worse we were laughing so hard our stomachs hurt. Now we needed the big guns, so I went for the razor blade knife and delicately sliced around the rim of the container while Mimi searched the Internet for a solution. My effort yielded more chunks of plastic to add to the pile. 

     The Internet search was more successful. Apparently the tab is supposed to break off then the top can easily be removed. In my defense there is no visible line that’s easy to see. Since there is a YouTube about opening this butter it tells you we’re not the only ones that have had this problem.

Stay tuned, tomorrow we’re going to open a new jar of jelly.

In the Mind of a Child

I often wonder what's going on in my grandaughter's mind. Many of us probably have had that same thought. What are the grandkids thinking about, especially the little ones? What's important to them? They express emotions like joy, sadness, fear, surprise and anger, but what about other types of feelings. When does a little person show pride?

     Well, I’ve noticed recently when my granddaughter, Stella is at our house she always says to any other visitors we may have. “Do you want to see my b-e-d or Do want to see my r-o-o-m?” She always places the emphasis on the last word. My wife and I find that funny, but I guess all grandparents may have similar stories.

     She seems proud to have a bed and room in our house. It makes me feel good that she thinks of our house as partly hers. Stella has a safe, comfortable home whenever she visits. She is free to roam any room in the house but she seems to favor the snack pantry.

     Tell me something special about your grandchild. I hope you listen closely to what they say because sometimes they can be insightful.

     Wouldn’t it be great if all children had a safe and comfortable place wherever they go? “Just Saying...”