Lost in Translation a la Dr. Boy

Too funny not to share. God love an independent grocer.

OK, I have a lot of trouble remembering specific examples of my L-I-T moments with Dr. Boy. And, when I try to recall them, the frustration that I feel makes them seem far more sinister than they are. Yes, we have trouble communicating, but no, it's not usually that we're not listening, or don't know how to listen, or don't appreciate each other, or are co-dependent, or any of the other bullshit psychobabble that gets thrown at my during the usual rescue-M-from-this-relationship intervention. It's just maddening, because our communication misfires are so inane as to be truly forgettable.

Tonight, I stumbled across a perfect example of how ordinary turns of phrase are just misunderstood. I have never experienced this type of confusion on this level in a relationship, and it happens all the time. I won't do the example justice. But, interventionists, take heed - this is what I mean. We are not stumbling over "commitment," or "monogamy," or "responsibility." We are stumbling over scallions.

I like to cook, but I often find myself with leftover ingredients that never make it into the next dish. This makes me crazy, because they go bad, and I end up paying for food that I throw away. I am a Depression-Era child trapped in the body of a GenXer. So tonight, after I made my favorite orzo salad for lunch tomorrow, I decided to pull a Rachael Ray and prep the leftover dill and scallions before storing them. Dill and scallions always seem to rot before I get to them. Dinner, a disastrous stir-fry, was on the stove. It looked terrible, and I had been eating the orzo salad. I think Dr. Boy is loathe to tell me when he doesn't like something I've cooked. So I explain that dinner is iffy, but the salad is great, and he can have either without hurting my feelings. I think that should have clearly communicated that the salad was done.

We're puttering around in the kitchen, him making up his plate, and me cleaning up a bit. I clean the scallions, peel them, start to chop them and then stop. With my knife poised and at the ready, it occurs to me that I am not the only one who cooks, and that Dr. Boy may not want his scallions chopped before storage.

So, I say "Is there any reason you wouldn't like these scallions chopped?"

Knife poised. I am at full stop in mid-chop.

Silence. And then fumbling. He says "Yea, I mean are they OK?" Suddenly, he's leaning over me in our tiny kitchen to see the cutting board. Not easy, and less easy on the girl with with knife. Another moment of silence. Then, "They look OK to me. Is the knife clean?"

I am now completely confused. I turn to look at him and repeat the question s-l-o-w-l-y, because it's clear that he is inebriated or simple. "Is there any reason you wouldn't like these scallions chopped?" And in response I get a confused look. It is clear that he is just as baffled by my behavior. So I explain. "The scallions are good, and I am going to put them away. Do you mind if they are chopped up, or do you want me to keep them unchopped?" Another blank stare. So, I try again. "Is there a recipe where you would like these scallions to not be chopped before I put them away?"

Eureka. What has been an incredibly confusing 2 minutes of scallion discussion is over and the tension is dissipated. The clouds clear and he looks relieved. I am not asking about the quality of the scallions. I am not asking about the cleanlines of the kitchen. This is not a veiled accusation, or a pondering of the metaphyscial aspects of scallions. I want to know if it will bother him if I put them away in a particular way.

Dr. Boy is not the type to give a shit about how his veggies are stored. I don't think he even knows what's in the fridge. He used to, but I think he's come to understand that I care very deeply about vegetable storage, and that things in the fridge have a designated purpose in my mind. Now he just asks me what's in the fridge, knowing that items purchased for a recipe I'm making in 3 days will not be offered.

5 minutes later, he asked if I wanted him to put the scallions into the salad to finish it. And we were off again.

XOXO,

M