This week my favorite thing is a little something Mom wrote and sent my way. Enjoy!
It Ain't The Newlywed Game
We’ve been married 41 years. 41 years. Do you think we would know more about each other than the couples on The Newlywed Game? Well, check out this scenario.
My husband and I recently attended a church marriage seminar for seniors to strengthen our communication skills. Lovely idea! And so needed. He declares I mumble. I vow he can’t even hear himself. He says I never told him. I steam he doesn’t listen. The seminar was a great idea until... the moderator began asking questions.It was all fun and games listening to other couples answer their questions with ease and comfort. We all laughed, ribbing our church friends that they must have rehearsed their answers. None of the questions were hard. None of them were intimate or personal. Most were common, everyday questions everyone knew how to answer. You know the break the ice kind of questions.
We were in the middle of a hardy, raucous time with our friends when the instructor threw a question our way. “Sir, can you name your wife’s favorite flower?”
You should have seen my husband. Proud plastered itself all over his face. A smile spread from ear to ear. I must have smirked, feeling girlish, knowing he had the right answer.He touched my hand. Tears welled. With firm conviction, he loudly declared, “It’s Pillsbury!”
The room grew quiet. The speaker looked puzzled. Everyone turned our way.
After what seemed an eternity, I gasped, shoved his hand away, and said without one stitch of hesitation, “Fool! I use King Arthur!”
Laughter erupted. Our faces grew brilliant red. My friend sitting next to me cupped her hands around her mouth, leaned in toward me and yelled, “He said flower!”
My husband and I looked at one another and shrugged our shoulders.
She yelled louder, “He said flower!”
By now, we were getting riled up. How dare she contradict what we’d answered? Was something wrong with the woman’s hearing?
When she screamed it out for the third time, we both stood up in unison, and walked out the door, huffed up and angry. Once we’d cleared the church doors, my husband flailed his arms, angry as a bantam rooster. “Well, you can tell who needed that seminar. And it sure to hell wasn’t us!”
Trekking behind him, I agreed, wholeheartedly, “Bunch of damn fools! You can tell they can’t hear a blessed thing! Did you see how she acted?”
My beloved whirled on me, shouting, “Acted? I lovingly gave the correct answer. Are you trying to start a battle with me?”
Clearly we needed to head back into that seminar, but by the time I recovered from his attack, he was halfway down the block, struggling to open someone else’s car door. Guess it’s not the right time to remind him we drove to church with the lady who insulted us. Rather than tackle the problem further, I headed home, so befuddled I wasn’t certain if I should turn on 2nd Street or 3rd.
I not only enjoyed the humor of the piece, but also the illustration of how easily misunderstandings happen. It's like the telephone game we all played as kids. One kid would say something as simple as, "The cat is up the tree" and inevitably, by the last child, it would become, "I really have to pee."
It's a nice reminder to be clear and concise, whether in a conversation or the written word.
When was the last time a misunderstanding led to humor for you?