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A message from George Michael? But I can’t Return to Sender.

15 Mar Posted by in Family Life, Language | 4 comments
A message from George Michael? But I can’t Return to Sender.
 
Today, I went to get the mail, which is normally always done by Kay. I hate opening mail, let alone touching mail and with everything being in German, I can’t read it any way.

But today, I found a little surprise mixed in with our mail.

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Ok…so uh… Is this solicitation? Well if it is, they got it all wrong.

1.)    My husband was out of town last night. Not tonight.

2.)    They didn’t list any prices.

3.)    Well… I’m willing to bet it was someone underage and that just isn’t legal any way.

4.)    I was totally wishing I could go all CSI on it and dust it for fingerprints, then take it around to all the neighborhood kids and say, “I’ve got you now, little turd.”

After starting this blog entry, I went downstairs for dinner and Kay asked, “What are you writing about today?”

Me: The Valentine’s Day message I received in the mailbox.

Kay: How do you know it was for you?

Me: It was in English.

Kay: Uhm… it was in German too.

Me: Huh? Don’t you have a German word for sex?

Kay: Yeah, Sex.

Me: Well, it was probably a pubescent boy because a girl wouldn’t think of doing that. Therefore, I’m sure it was intended for me.

Kay: How do you know the other neighbors also didn’t receive the same message?

Me: Aw, that’s not nice. I was feeling special.

Up until a few minutes ago, I really thought I had been targeted with this message because I speak English…well and maybe someone has a crush because the idea of a foreigner is just so attractive. In the words of Austin Powers, “Yeah, baby!”

I can make jokes and find some silly humor in this now, but it isn’t always the easiest being the only American in the neighborhood.

When I moved here, the adults learned quickly who I was and that I only knew English. Regardless of whether or not they wanted and/or knew English themselves, an adult knows the courtesy of waving or saying hello in passing. Ok, well most adults. There still are a few who don’t have the word “courtesy” in their English or German vocabulary.

The children, on the other hand… well, we know how children can be.

Often times they made me question whether or not I might be a character from the Sixth Sense unaware that I am really just a ghost; I would wave hello requiring absolutely no language skills and they would just stare at me.

I don’t know what is creepier, an English speaking monster smiling at them with big teeth or children standing motionless with a penetrating stare. Something right out of The Omen. Damien? Damien?

Who would have thought that not knowing the language could create such a stigmatism?

Occasionally I still get children whispering around me, “She doesn’t speak any German,” which now obviously I can understand, but the note in the mailbox is a completely new matter.

I thought, “It had to have been one of the children in our neighborhood who knows that I speak English and I’m sure it was intended as a joke.” Children can be so weird. I mean, how did they think I would react? And what fun is it putting something in the mailbox if you don’t even get to see the reaction of when I open it? Come on kids.

I’m thinking flaming poop on the porch is much more entertaining. Not that I want to give them any ideas.

And not only that… but why did they choose the word, “Sex?” Silly pubescent boys.

I could go “old school” CSI on them and walk the note around asking if anyone recognizes the penmanship. Or even better, carry around the iPad and say I have a new Lie Detector App installed to see if anyone makes a run for it.

Nah, who doesn’t need a little mystery in their life?

I guess I’m hoping that if the message was intended for me, perhaps once their English progresses I might find at least more entertaining English notes in the box with cute misspellings.

And if we receive more notes, maybe at least I will know whether they are intended for Kay or for me based on the language in which they write.

Until then, the mystery remains… well, unless the other neighbors also received the same one.  Then I really don’t feel special any more.

 


  1. Mona Raub03-15-12

    Are you sure it wasn’t Kay? I can’t help but laugh when I think about many years ago when I left an insigned racey note on Dad’s pickup truck parked at his job site. He came home with the note in hand with tales for days about all the speculationas to who may have left it by the guys who worked with him. I think it broke his heart and hurt his ego when I finally told him that the note was from me. What a tangled web we weave! LOL

    • Mommy03-16-12

      LOL The thought did cross my mind. But that would require there being a pen in our house that actually works. :)

  2. Sina03-16-12

    Oh,Sarah I had the same massage the other day – now I dont feel special anymore ;-((( Lets find the silly pubescent boy… or girl maybe it was not for us… LOL

    • Mommy03-17-12

      Now we have to make an official count around the neighborhood. So far we’re up to three?

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