You work where???

This past weekend I was honored to be included in hosting a bridal shower. My dear friend is getting married in two weeks.  Her sisters and I occupied another friend's house and crockpotted

our butts off.  As one does when large groups of sisters and friends get together we spa'd pre-shower.  We spa'd hard.  Mani/Pedis, Facials, Massages, Scrubs - we were clean, polished and exfoliated.  When I first arrived at the spa, I found my friend and her sisters in a lovely low lit alcove, sitting on a cushioned bench, drinking coffee out of enormous cups. There was jazz music being piped as background music to the general hum of women. My friend began to tell a story about her sister-in-law.  "Well, Marcia, she works at the whorehouse and so she knows these about these types of things" I, in shock, looked at each of her sisters for their reaction - they calmly took another sip of coffee, not one of them spilling a drop.  Whorehouse???  "Excuse me, where does Marcia work?" "The courthouse". Oh. Oh my, well that explains it.

It got me to wondering....I think I have selective dirty hearing.  How often have I heard the dirty version of a normal sentence?  But it's not just me...it's my sister as well.  I wonder if it is genetic.  Take my dad's wake.... We walk into the room that is holding his casket.  We all approach.  He is laid out in splendor - his mortal shell clad in his deacon robes....his face free of pain and agony.  It was a truly beautiful moment and very unlike any my siblings and I have ever had.  My brother says "Oh, doc looks so good. They did a great job.  He doesn't have that dead look".  I say "Quick! check his pulse!!".  My sister looks horrified.  Now, I'm sure the average reader might also be horrified as I'm talking about my dad here, but my sister, Tos, is my, Zep's partner in crime when it comes to irreverence.  I am thinking I might have gone over the line when she hisses "WHAT....DID...YOU....SAY?".  I repeat sheepishly "quick check his pulse".  She replies "OHTHANK GOD!!!!! I thought you said, quick, check his balls!".  We collapse into laughter in front of my dad's casket.  My brother, my sister, my mother and I. My children stand by horrified.  We now have tears rolling down our faces as people come in to pay their respects. I heard our "grief" was very touching to the first round of mourners.

I think I can trace this problem of dirty hearing back to my childhood. I was forever mis-hearing things and thinking certain words meant something dirty when they did not. Sort of setting the stage for hearing normal words and hearing the dirty ones.  Oh how I laughed anytime I heard the astrological sign Virgo (virgin - yea not dirty to you, but this was the 60s!!), organism (nuff said) and for a few years I thought a rectum was a quadrilateral (It's a rectangle...a rectangle!!).  Yes, my childhood WAS a magical place.

I'm sure if I cleaned my ears out, got my head out of the clouds and looked intently at the person speaking to me I could cut down on the amount of misunderstandings but seriously, isn't it more interesting to think that kind suburban Iowa women do paperwork at the whorehouse?