“Hi, Olya!”, I yelled into the phone and heard my own echo, “can you imagine Daniel listening to my clumsy English and not even interrupting?”
Do you remember how I lived when we met? I cooked, washed, did the dishes, took out the trash, worked in the garden, went to two parent meetings at the same time. Then I learned to plan everything very much in advance, make lists and analyze. I learned to lie and flatter, and even read minds. When my ex-husband asked “Tell me honestly..?”, I clearly gave him what he wanted to hear.
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Instagram sent this message instead of posting my comment.
Yesterday, one instagram account that I’ve been following recently created a meeting post. It is a good way to find new people to read and let others know yourself.
But what should I write about myself? Unlike others, I am not a journalist, or coach, or practical psychologist, or copywriter. I am just an average American, well, Russian-American, to be more specific – a Russian wife with the bee up my bum.
It’s good that my husband’s Russian wife can handle a hammer. But it’s even better when she knows what the word “hammer” means.
During our first summer together, Daniel, out of work, decided to renovate the house. He wanted to strengthen some boards in the basement. And I was supposed to help him.
As he climbed up and down the ladder I was wandering around. At one point, he asked me to hand him the hammer. I was giving him one by one all the tools that he had prepared for this project. Of course, the hammer was the last. But since then I have known the meaning of the word.
However, there’s a little misunderstanding. I still cannot pronounce correctly a hammer and a hummer. So when I talk to you, please, pay attention to the context.