Yesterday I got a phone call. Even though I've practiced "I'm sorry! I don't understand." about 10,000 times, I can't seem to get it out quickly enough on the phone. So when someone starts speaking German, I freeze. This particular phone call caused such panic, and I rationalized that it must be a telemarketer because their intro was just too long. Mature adult that I am, I hung up on this unwelcome caller. But she called back. So I stopped answering my phone for two days. Finally, I admitted to myself that this person did seem to at least think that they needed to get in touch with me, so I googled the phone number, and lo and behold, a flower shop in my Munich 'hood. Now I knew that this was not a gift from Will - he is a dear man but the move has put the pinch on us and these days he starts to sweat when I buy condiments. It occurred to me at last that the call was about my Christmas poinsettia! Every year since I've lived on my own, my dad has sent me (and my sisters) a poinsettia plant. It is always a nice surprise, and this year, being so far from what I know, it was extra special. By the time I mustered up the courage to answer the next call, the young woman at the flower shop had realized that my affliction was language related and not merely rudeness or xenophobia. So now I've got my poinsettia, and it's feeling a little more like home. Thank you, Dad!!
Many laughs have been had about this entry.
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