Let’s sign

It is said, “The most important thing in any relationship is communication.” Surprisingly I actually agree with this one. Bet that one caught you off guard. I really didn’t mean to upset you, but sometimes I have to shake things up.

What actually set me on this journey was, something I saw a few days ago. A local church just put in one of those changeable LED signs. As I was driving by, I noticed the sign said “Services; Sunday 10:30 am.” After a few seconds it changed to, “Recovery; Sunday 1:00 pm.” What were they trying to tell me?

It probably meant they have addiction recovery counseling every week. But that’s not what it said. I’m inclined to believe they have a two-hour service, and it’s so long they offer bottles of water, to help folks get on with their day. Of course, I could be wrong.

That service could be so intense, folks are being sent to the hospital. So, naturally, they bring the medical squad right to the church. Then again, if your mind is as warped as mine. The church could be extremely progressive, and they offer services to folks who feel the need to go. Then offer recovery to the folks who feel they’re getting in to religion a little too deep. You just don’t know.

Remember I’m not making fun of their beliefs. I’m making fun of their sign. It’s not communicating the message very well. It’s almost as confusing as my daughters form of communication.

Girl talk

Now, I’m a very open-minded person. I’m not swayed by public opinion, or strong images. If a mob was headed up the hill, with torches, to attack Frankenstein, I’d probably be carrying marshmallows and chocolate. I could make a killing selling smores to help folks calm down. If I lived in the movies, I’d buy a house in Haddonfield, Illinois, and never even think that Michael Meyers would show up. I’d also have no qualms about spending my summers at Camp Crystal Lake never even considering that Jason lives there.

  All this being said, there is something which scares the snot out of me; Large groups of teenaged girls! It’s very loud, with a lot of squealing. There is some laughter, but the words they use are strange and said so fast, it would take a cheetah to keep up with what’s being said.

When I first heard it, I thought there was a human sacrifice going on. The fast weird speech could’ve been a mysterious chant. The squealing might’ve been the dying pleas of the victim. As far as the laughter is concerned… I don’t even want to think about what that might mean.

After hearing all this a few times and not seeing any pools of blood, I realized they must be communicating, on some very scary level. However, I do still keep my distance in case I’m right about the sacrifice thing.

Man splaning

Ipso-Facto, the lack of communication is a problem. My son talks so fast no one can understand. Even my daughter has trouble, and she can talk in a different dimension when she’s with friends. The thing is, after I’ve gotten him to slow down enough that I understand, what he’s saying is usually something I don’t want to know. Sadly, I have to keep trying, just in case.

Even with all the stuff with our kids, my wife is the one I mostly worry about. She’s highly intelligent, and speaks great, and proper English. She hardly understands any of us. This was a serious problem when the kids were small.

Child language

I don’t know about your house, but with small children the adults sometimes have to speak in code. The easiest way is to spell things, so the kids won’t be able to figure it out. The issue is, I can’t spell for schnarts. I’d say things like, “I want to take the K-E-E-D-S to the M-O-O-V-Y-S. The thought was to take everyone to the movies, and that sounded right to me. Unfortunately, she’d look confused and ask what keeds are?

The real problem came when my eldest turned four. He’s pretty smart, and regrettably he learned how to speak dad. It was so embarrassing. I’d say and spell some secret. My wife would look confused. Then the four-year-old would roll his eyes and blurt out, “He wants to go out for dinner, Mom”

Then I tried to get slick. Instead of spelling words, I’d point to related things, and try to form a message that way. I don’t know whether my wife was too smart or I was too stupid, but I had even less luck with this. Even my prodigy son couldn’t figure out what I was saying. All the while I looked like I was having a seizure, pointing ferociously at random objects. Okay, I figured it out; It was me being too stupid!

Sales speak

Happily, with all this I’m still not the stupidest person out there. Several years back, I decided I needed a flashy sports car. Yes, that was stupid, but it’s not the point of the story. I went to a few dealerships and found the super cool one I wanted. The issue was I hadn’t talked to my wife about this yet. I don’t bother with silly details.

As this was a fairly special car, the salesman indicated there were a lot of stupid guys looking at it. He said if I put down a deposit, he could hold it for me. I was being an idiot anyway, so what’s one more dumb thing. Ohh, how wrong I was.

Two days later, I lost my job. No Lie! I told my wife about the car. She yelled, “Go, cancel the sale, you idiot.” This is where communication problems come in. I went and told the guy, “Sorry but I can’t pay for this, so I’m not buying it. Please return my deposit.” That’s pretty clear. Isn’t it?? It wasn’t to him. He talked about lower payments.

I don’t know what part of, “I don’t have a job,” he didn’t understand, but he insisted I was buying the car. I reminded him the deposit was supposed to be refundable. He told me I’d signed a binding contract. He never communicated anything about a contract. I’m pretty dumb, but I would’ve remembered something like that.

He insisted, when I placed a deposit, it was a promise to purchase. I asked, if this was the case, how could it be refundable? As he himself had indicated. He suddenly forgot saying that. Even when he admitted to it earlier in the conversation. And folks say I’m bad at communicating.

Eventually I spoke to the manager, who seemed to understand, you can’t pay for a car, without a job. He gave me my hundred-bucks back, shaking my hand, and inviting me back when I found a position. Yea! Like that was gonna happen.

Not communcating

The moral here is; Communication is important. The dealership went out of business, a year later. Thankfully, my wife is more resilient. As long as I have my son as an interpreter, our marriage will stay strong. Of course, rolling of eyes will still happen.

A Lot!