(Note: This is a retro-post from a couple of years ago, just as I was beginning to blog. D. had not yet become the (Lovable Old Coot.)
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My husband, David, is a techie. He loves gadgets, doohickeys, and thingamajigs. Just give him a good JPEG or an interesting URL and he is off and running. And he is pretty skillful at that stuff.
By contrast, and I suspect this may simply be a Y-chromosome issue, he just doesn't always listen skillfully. Take yesterday afternoon, for example. We were sitting in our sun room languidly discussing whatever came to mind. As we chatted, we also watched the workmen, who were installing a new HVAC system in our house, come and go - much like the enormous sum of money we were spending on the new system.
Admittedly, it was about a 120 degrees in the rest of the house, and that may have contributed to the sluggish tenor of our conversation, and was definitely why we were hanging out in the sun room - it has it's own air conditioner, separate from the rest of the house.
So, he says to me, "What is all this writing you have been doing lately?" I told him that after reading my daughter's blog for several months, I had decided to start one of my own. Just for fun.
"A blog, hmmm? What is it called?"
"Spots and wrinkles", I said, just as the workmen fired up another test run of the new compressor that would surely power a lunar module, should the need arise. The thing is huge, much like the sum of money it cost. (Did I mention that this thing put a hole in our budget the size of a direct asteroid hit?)
"Boston wrinkles? I don't get it. What does that even mean?"
"What do you mean, 'what does it mean'?" Now, really, I ask you, how complicated is a spot or a wrinkle? Goodness knows, at our age, we both have plenty - of both.
David repeated somewhat impatiently, "Boston wrinkles - what does it mean?"
Clearly, I had not been listening either. I thought he had said "spots and wrinkles" and he thought I had said "Boston wrinkles" - and at that point I started laughing. I laughed till I cried, until the workmen stopped on their trek from the garage to the patio to stare, because I was laughing so hard they could hear me over the din of their own activities. I laughed until my sides hurt and I was out of breath.
Boy! There is nothing like a good endorphin rush to perk up a lazy afternoon. Meanwhile, David is still sitting there, looking both puzzled and a bit pushed out of shape - am I laughing at him? What was so funny, anyway?
Well, it all got straightened out. He didn't necessarily think "spots and wrinkles" made a lot more sense than "Boston wrinkles" - but to each his own wrinkle. Meanwhile, I couldn't help it, I just kept thinking that I have heard of:
Boston beans, and
Boston creme pie, and
Boston clam chowder, but....
NOT BOSTON WRINKLES ! Oh, here I go again. I simply must get hold of myself.
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We all want to be understood. We hope to make some kind of connection with another. And yet, with just a slip of the tongue or a miss of the ear - we are suddenly ships passing in the night - or in our case the middle of the afternoon. As an old fellow I once knew was fond of saying, "Sometimes I get my tongue wrapped around my eyetooth and I can't see a thing I am saying."
Boston wrinkles - or for that matter Spots and Wrinkles. What does it mean? I am not sure, but I think the ride may turn out to be a lot of fun. Have a good day.