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Jul. 12th, 2009
Potholders.
Jul. 12th, 2009 11:06 pmI shall now share with you one of my grandmother's favorite stories. A few decades ago, my great-grandmother Antonia gets a phone call. She picks it up and goes "Alo-oh-oh?" because that is how Estonians say hello, with umlauts or something. Seriously, it's three syllables. If you've ever called me you know what I mean, I do it too. But only on the phone.
"Good afternoon, ma'am," a man says. "I'm calling to inquire about whether or not you are a plotholder."
"Potholders?" she asks, confused. "I have potholders."
The man, mistaking her mistake plus her accent for comprehension, asks, "Where are they located?"
Antonia is very confused by this. "I have a whole drawer of them in my kitchen!"
It turns out the guy was trying to sell cemetery plots. Over the phone. Which is so absurd that it deserves one of my relatives mishearing him. Estonians - my lot anyway - we're all natural blondes.
This has nothing to do with anything, really, except that I have not been Defeated By String, and have made a potholder. But I don't think it'll be much good at holding pots, because it's fuzzy synthetic stuff and probably would melt.
"Good afternoon, ma'am," a man says. "I'm calling to inquire about whether or not you are a plotholder."
"Potholders?" she asks, confused. "I have potholders."
The man, mistaking her mistake plus her accent for comprehension, asks, "Where are they located?"
Antonia is very confused by this. "I have a whole drawer of them in my kitchen!"
It turns out the guy was trying to sell cemetery plots. Over the phone. Which is so absurd that it deserves one of my relatives mishearing him. Estonians - my lot anyway - we're all natural blondes.
This has nothing to do with anything, really, except that I have not been Defeated By String, and have made a potholder. But I don't think it'll be much good at holding pots, because it's fuzzy synthetic stuff and probably would melt.