What I said but what I really meant
My sister who lives in the Columbus area is gainfully employed as a translater.
She is fluent in Spanish, having studied it in college and abroad at the University of Valencia.
And it further flourished thanks to being married the past 48 years to a Spaniard.
They talk to each other in English, but they also talk a lot in Spanish.
My sister does a lot of work in the school systems, translating, for example, when there’s a parent-teacher conference.
I tell you all this because I’m thinking if there’s one thing we don’t need in the Kiaski household, in my opinion, it’s a translater or interpreter.
Things are working out just fine for me, thank you, when it comes to what Better Half thinks I’ve said when I’ve actually said something else.
Or have I?
Confused?
Allow me to explain.
Better Half and I speak English, to be sure, but we also speak the husband and wife language.
All couples have this kind of communication, I’m assuming, because I can’t imagine that we’re all that unique in the verbal, blah-blah-blah department.
I was reminded of this in recent weeks on various occasions.
One incident was as recent as the other evening when I was standing in the kitchen at the bar, realizing it was late, and I hadn’t pulled my car in the garage yet. So I said out loud in his presence — “My car’s outside.”
It was an admission, not a suggestion for him to do anything, you understand.
“Where are your keys?” he asked, his translating skills sharply honed all these years.
They were on the bar. I jingled them. He took them. My car was on its way to beddy-bye.
“I didn’t mean for you to put the car in the garage,” I said.
“Yes, you did,” he responded, a knowing look following the comment.
Another time recently, when there were many dishes to be washed, but I had some other things to do first, I told him, “Don’t do those dishes. I’ll get to them.”
I pursued my “other things,” returning to discover dirty dishes were now clean dishes.
“I didn’t mean for you to do the dishes, sweetums,” I said ever so appreciatively and sweetly.
“Yes you did,” Better Half responded, another knowing look following the comment.
I kid you not when I say I don’t have a problem mucking stalls or keeping the pasture area manure-managed.
It’s one of those mundane things you do that can be quite therapeutic.
I told him don’t pick up the manure the other day, but he did it anyway.
“I didn’t mean for you to do it, sweetums,” I said.
“Horse manure,” he said, a knowing look following the comment.
(Kiaski, a resident of Richmond, is a staff columnist and features writer for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times and community editor for the Herald-Star. She can be contacted at jkiaski@heraldstaronline.com.)
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