EVERYDAY LIFE
Mrs.T is not gregarious. As many of you know she would live alone in our woods without human contact if it were possible even though she is quite good in groups. I am toward the opposite side of the spectrum. That is, I have no problem bumping elbows with shoppers on 'Black Friday', an event that we miss down here at our winter home. And I am not prone to embarrassment. I follow the advice of Richard Feynman in his book What Do You Care What Other People Think? - at least the title. So sometimes (often?), I surprise R; she has a little story about such a recent event. As an introductory comment, her renditions of Rule Number 1 and Corollary One are not quite accurate, but they are close enough and that is how she remembers them.
On to her story. (No pictures for this one.)
It was all my fault, of course. I know this because of Rule Number 1 which states "It is always Rebecca's fault." Dan has explained that this rule is for my benefit so that I need not dither trying to decide whose fault it is and can proceed directly to step two: feeling guilty. Even Dan is willing to admit I do pretty well with feeling guilty. (She has mastered that. –dt)
Dan's electric shaver was broken. The outside part of the wire was crumbling off. It was my job to hold the wire straight while Dan wrapped electric tape around it. (Some of you will recall my 'rabbi' beard. –dt) Two days later the shaver ceased to function. Rule number one applied. The question was where to get a new one. I suggested Mega, WalMart, or a large minisuper. (Yes, that sounds oxymoronic; but that is correct. –dt) Corollary Oneapplied. Corollary one is: "Rebecca is never right except when Dan thought of it first." Since I had forgotten to say "I'm sure you think we should look at Mega, WalMart…," we had a problem. We were ambling up the street thinking about this when suddenly Dan rushed up to a rather beaten-up pickup truck and started knocking on the window. "Where can I buy one of those?" he asked. The young Mexican man who rolled down the window looked puzzled. "Que?"(What?) he responded. I was confused myself. "How do you say buy?" Dan asked. "Comprar," I answered promptly. "Where me comprar," Dan asked and stopped in confusion. "He had an electric shaver a minute ago," Dan told me. (I am quite positive I saw him shaving. And my Spanish is better that Mrs.T implies. –dt)
Look at it from the young man's point of view. It was Sunday afternoon and he had come to visit his girlfriend. Naturally she was not ready when called for so he waited for her in his truck with the music playing loudly and the air conditioner going full blast. He got his shaver out of the glove box and decided to spruce up a little more while waiting. Some old man started knocking on his window and when he opened it yelled at him in English. (I did not yell; R always says I yell. I just have a voice with volume. –dt) He put down his shaver and turned to the gringo. "Que?" he asked. The gringo talked to his wife and said something that the young man was pretty sure included ""comprar". "Is it possible?" he thought. The young man gave a beautiful smile. The young man had been trying to sell his pickup for several months. Alas it was not to be. The old gringo's wife asked, "Donde compramos un machina electrica por afeitar?" That was pretty clear if not quite correct. "Mega, o Walmart, o un minisuper," the young man replied.
So we went to Mega and bought the cheapest one they had. After bringing it home and charging it for 18 hours it made a small noise. Rebecca returned it and bought a Remington. Now Dan is clean shaven and not a bit abashed. (But Mrs.T was thoroughly amused. –dt)
Happy Thanksgiving to all.
Dan and Rebecca
