We had a big family reunion at our house this weekend for my father’s 8oth birthday (see Dad’s 80th Birthday). We hired someone to help serve and clean up, but she only spoke Spanish. We didn’t think this would be a problem because my wife (sorry, couldn’t resist) won an award for Spanish in high school. Unfortunately, the woman we hired must have spoken a different dialect than they do in Huntington, Long Island because she spent much of the day looking confused. We later discovered why when my daughter translated some of my wife’s instructions for us. Apparently, when my wife told her to wash the dishes, she thought she had been told to take a bath. She also misunderstood when my wife told her to help in the kitchen because apparently my wife told her to pet her pig. I then understood why the woman had been so affectionate to me all day.
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