The Fun We Can Have with Language Barriers

I just got an email forwarded from Roland's sister that her son wrote from his mission. It contained a funny story that made me think of other mishaps that have happened because one of the people in a conversation didn't speak the native language.

My Uncle and his wife served a mission in Russia. They were talking to a group and said, "Let us tell you a little about the Burtons." They then told the audience about all their children. (Total of 6). The person translating translated it to "Let us tell you a little about our burdens". When they couldn't understand all the weird looks they were getting they stopped and figured out what had happened.

When we lived in Ithaca we had a great woman in the ward, Berta, from Mexico. She would sometimes translate for another Spanish speaking member. One fast Sunday Berta was helping the woman bear her testimony. The woman started out in English so Berta kindly translated it all into Spanish for us.

And now to the funny story from Alex, the missionary, serving in the French West Indies. His companion was having some health problems. Lost feeling in his toes. He came away from the Dr's office with a prescription. (Keep in mind this is a 19 year old boy). Let's just say he didn't leave the apartment for a few hours once they figured out he'd just taken Viagra.

Do you have any funny stories?

A Day at the Park

We were so happy to finally have some good weather so we could ride our bikes to the park. Luckily the mean 9 year old didn't show up until a few days later. Next time I hope the kid's Mom comes with him so I can beat her up. Sounds fair, doesn't it, since the renegade was trying to beat up the rest of us. Just kidding. I don't think I could take her.

What a good big brother!

I love Peter's little hand is his pocket as he surveys the scene.

Should I do it? Should I do it?

Nah!

Aaron loves to swerve around the trail. Pretty good shot for taking it while I was on the bike, huh?

My first attempt to get a shot of Peter on the back of my bike. It was an over the shoulder shot. Not so good.

Getting closer....

Got him! I almost crashed and I whacked the camera on the handlebars, but I got a slobbery shot. That's worth almost crashing isn't it?

What Does that Say About Me?

I was cleaning up the evening dishes and realized that once again the top half of the dishwasher is stuffed, while the lower half is a quarter full.

I have waaaaay too much plastic in my life.

Indy 500 Here We Come!

Driving gloves? Check! Driving goggles? Check! Seat belt? Check! Buttons for turbo boost? Check! Pit Crew? Check! Serious driving face? Check!

All set!

Quote of the Day

Aaron was telling me what he wanted for his birthday. For the life of me I couldn't understand what he was saying. So, after the second time of me asking him to repeat himself he said in his most condescending voice, "Say it with me Mom, Air Hog Sharp Shooter."

At least he enunciated that time. Still don't know what an Air Hog Sharp Shooter is...

To Comment or Not to Comment, That is the Question!

I had a conversation yesterday with a friend about blogging. She doesn't have one at the moment and is contemplating the idea. She was a guest blogger on our church blog, and may I say she did a mighty fine job. The comment section on the church blog is turned off so she won't get much feedback about her post.

We talked about how it was to put effort into writing something, putting it out there, and then... nothing. It can be a let down after working hard to get your words right, try to be funny but not offend, don't give too much info so you keep your family safe, make sure your tenses and punctuation are correct (which I'm bad at), etc..

I think if I took the time to read a post that someone took the time to write I should let them know I was there. I try to comment when I have time, which sometimes doesn't work when a 2 year old needs attention. Often, it just one sentence but still the writer knows SOMEONE read it. I'm often told in person that someone is reading my blog which is also nice. I've even been told I've been blog stalked. Good thing she's not a scary stalker!

So, Dear 6 readers, what is your take on comments?

National Marathon

The National Marathon is next weekend. I signed up with two friends as a relay team. I started running back in January so I could make it in the time allotted. A week and a half into running my ankle started hurting so I stopped running. It took 2 weeks of no running just to get it to stop hurting when I walked! Great! How am I supposed to get into shape if I can't run?

I start thinking of ways to support my ankle. I think, a brace? Maybe wrap it? I remember that I have some braces and ace bandages from when I was the Ice Skating Director for the Special Olympics. I had to wear braces and double wrap my ankles so I could stand in ice skates for a few hours. I'm thinking, "I bet I can dig those out of somewhere". Then I think, "Am I insane? I had trouble just STANDING, not skating around the rink, just standing!"

I think about it some more and decide that even though I think running past the memorials would be exhilarating it's not worth the doctors bills. I'm out. Sorry team!

No Future in Baseball

I always knew I wasn't so hot at baseball. In the youth games I played in they put me in as catcher but even that was a mistake. I was terrified of being hit by the bat. Who wouldn't be with 12 year old girls hitting the ball then throwing the bat so they could run to first base. One hit in the head was enough for me.

Yesterday I took our car into the local mechanic for a seat belt repair. I was walking home and passed a neighbors house. Their paper was on the sidewalk so I thought I'd just walk it up to their front door. They're good people. Help us out, so I thought I'd try to do something nice for them.

I'm standing at their front steps a mere 8 feet from their door, throw the paper, and wouldn't you know it, I chuck it into their bushes three feet to the right of me. What? Seriously? I can't throw a paper more then 3 feet? AND, and can't hit a large flat target 8 feet away?

Well, I managed to huck the paper to the BACK of the bushes. I stand there in total disbelief that I am that bad at throwing a large object. Then I burst into laughter, hoping, that no one else has witnessed my ineptness.

A minute passes while I debate my dilemma. How do I get the paper? Could this situation be any more ridiculous? Are they inside wondering what on earth I'm doing standing at the base of their stairs at 7 am? Are they wondering why they hear someone laughing?

I decide to stifle the laughter and grab a big stick. I get the paper out and take better aim. I manage to get the paper on the porch and then I run away, embarrassed but still laughing.