My wife has a habit of not explaining herself when she assumes I know exactly what she's talking about. I'm sure I do the same thing, but I'm the man of the house, I'm allowed, right?
Anyway, I've been telling her for years, when it comes to cooking (which she is very good at and has been doing it for a long time and thus, uses terminology that baffles me) she needs to talk to me like I'm a third grader. The other day she did it again, but I think I got my point across.
She said "Hey hot, studly DrBoost, whom I love more dearly than anything else on earth and is the light of my life (or something like that) I have to leave. Can you finish dinner for me"? "Will do" was my obedient, husbandly response. "O.K. then, it's easy. Just finish up the dumplings, blanch the vegetables, then put the dumplings on the chicken and toss it in the oven please."
It sounded like Charlie Browns teacher just asked me to "mwaamwamwamwaaaa ma mwa mwaamwa." I thought about telling her, yet again to please explain things like this to me, because blanch isn't something you do to veggies, it's a character on the Golden Girls. But I figured I'd make my point. I said: "Sure honey. I'll get on that right away. I'm a little busy right now though, so could you pull the drums off of the car and make sure the primary shoes and secondary shoes are installed correctly then get my bore-scope out and let me know how the cross-hatch pattern looks on the rear bank in the minivan?"
She said "huh!? Oh, alright. I'll write the directions down for you."
"Thanks" said Doc.
Men are from Mars.......
