"Is there anything I can do to help you?" I asked Jeff.
He thought about it for a minute and then slowly replied, "Yes. I need the shallow baking pans to be cleaned."
All of our baking pans being already clean, I wracked my brain, trying to figure out what in the world he was talking about. Finally, I tried, "You mean cookie sheets?"
He shook his head immediately. "No. Not the cookie sheets. The shallow baking pans."
I frowned, "I'm sorry. I don't know what you're talking about."
Jeff marched into the dining room, saying over his shoulder, "Here, I'll show you."
Pointing to the table, he explained, "You've got them filled up with Legos."
I muttered to him sternly, "Those are cookie sheets."
Then I stalked away, wondering where in the world he came up with a name like 'shallow baking pan' for what was clearly a cookie sheet.
Fifteen minutes later, Jeff approached me, and gently but firmly said, "Okay, this is a little bit of semantical Jeff coming out. I'm just warning you." Then he made warning signal noises. "Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo!"
I sighed and reminded him that I only had half a brain at present. "And that's *your* warning," I shot at him.
"Okay," he said. "Now. Those things on the table with the Legos in them are called shallow baking pans."
"Those are cookie sheets!" I said emphatically.
I tried to let him off easy by blaming his family. "You probably call them that because that's what your mom calls them, and she probably calls them that because that's what your grandma calls them. But I'm *sure* 'shallow baking pan' cannot possibly be their official name. I think it's a made-up name from the mind of a clever relative."
I stopped there, the voice in my brain nudging me to acknowledge that I only call them cookie sheets because that's what my mom calls them.
Without a word, Jeff strode toward the computer. Two minutes later, I peeked over his shoulder. He quickly scrolled to the top of the screen he'd been viewing and said, "See? Airbake calls it a shallow baking pan."
As I searched around mentally for some sort of defiant reply, Jeff said, "But to be fair, here."
Then he scrolled back down to where he'd been reading when I first peeked over his shoulder. "Kitchenaid calls it a cookie sheet."
So...we were both right. Sort of. But actually, we were both mostly wrong. Because aside from Airbake and Kitchenaid, every other manufacturer on the web calls them jelly roll pans.
I'd never even heard of jelly roll pans! And neither had Jeff.
I wandered away from the computer screen and thought to myself, "Good grief! And this is just cookware! What else do we think we understand that we're actually completely clueless about?"
Reminds me of Dr. Emerson's marriage series called Love & Respect. He says when a man says "I have nothing to wear" he means he has nothing clean. When a woman says "I have nothing to wear" she means she has nothing new. He goes on to say that if married couples say the *same* thing and mean something different, imagine how complicated it becomes when they say *different* things and mean something different.
With communication debaucles like these around every corner, no wonder marriages blow apart!
So what's the solution?
The solution is praying! Together!
Thanks be to God for being the foundation of marriage. What man (and woman) can't possibly keep joined together, God has the power to prevent from being put asunder. Especially when couples turn to Him together in prayer.
Thank you, Jeff, for being the kind of husband who welds our marriage together by praying with me. You're my knight in shining armor.
PS I will never, ever call it a shallow baking pan. :)
So what do *you* call it, my bloggy friends?