How Biscuits Almost Ruined My Wedding

Warm, buttery symbolic
representation of indirect communication. 

I'm known for hyperbole, so let me say up front that the headline is a bit of an exaggeration. A more accurate title might be, "How Indirect Communication about the Possibility of Having Biscuits at Our Wedding Reception Almost Ruined a Day Several Months in Advance of the Actual Wedding." But that's not nearly as attention-grabbing, now is it?

In addition to hyperbole, I'm also known for indirect communication. Let me share the legendary (at least to me and Cliff) biscuit story:

Our wedding was done on the cheap, and to help the budget stretch even further my fabulous sister-in-law Patti and her equally fabulous husband (Cliff's brother) Michael volunteered to fix all the food for the reception. Patti is an excellent cook who makes meal prep for 250 look as effortless as Thursday night dinner for five. Michael is pretty handy in the kitchen himself, and also has the remarkable skill of carving delicate little things out of fruit.

So a few months before the actual nuptials, Patti took Cliff and me on a scouting trip to Sam's Club. We were on the look out for good reception foods, and of course, free samples.

At one point Patti suggested biscuits for the reception buffet.

"Are biscuits really afternoon wedding food?" I asked, quietly.

"Sure!" Patti responded.

Gulp. My heart sank. Because of course I most definitely did not want biscuits at my afternoon wedding reception. "Help me out here!" I whispered, emphatically, to Cliff, feeling a little indignant that he hadn't jumped in already.

"What?" He asked. And rightly so, I now understand. Because indirect communication is a conversation killer. If I didn't want biscuits, I should have just said so, straight out.

I wish I could say that now, 10 years after our wedding (which, for the record, did not include biscuits), I've gotten better at being more direct. But I haven't, at least not always. For the last month I've been hinting that completing a certain project is a priority to me. Then last Wednesday night, when it was clear the project was not going to be done soon, I said to Cliff (in a pitiful, disappointed voice), "It's just that I really wanted it done for tomorrow."

"What?" He said, again. You notice a pattern here, right?

"I just sorta had it in my head that we'd have it done by tomorrow," I told him, about a month too late.

"Well you're telling me that about a month too late," he responded.

Yep. Did it again. In my indirect-communication-oriented mind he was supposed to know that my frequent reminders about the project meant I had a deadline. Gosh ... it's hard to see why he didn't figure it out. (She says with self-directed sarcasm.)

Lesson learned, again. If I want something, say it. I can't expect Cliff to read between the lines.

Maybe, this is the decade where I'll finally learn that.