A few minutes ago, a young workman knocked at my door and asked me to move my car. At least I think that's what he asked. His mouth moved and sounds came out, he pointed toward my car. His buddy was perched in a bucket truck with some sort of chain saw at the ready to cut the limbs from a tree. It's hard to tell though, what with the Southern accent and all.
I told him, "Give me just one minute before you start. Okay?" To which he replied, "Prolly so." Or I thought that's what he said anyway. Because in the minute it took to put my sneakers on, they had started cutting and a huge limb fell inches from my car.
I wanted to save my car. Well, it's a mini van, actually. But it's a nice one. And I like it. But I also didn't want to risk my neck for it. So I sprinted. Yup. I did the housewife sprint to save my mini van.
In a related story, I have a house cleaning service once a week. The people on the crew are very nice, but as we chit chat we often repeat the word "what" over and over. Actually, I say, "What was that?" and they say, "Huh, Honey?" But you get my drift.
This week, one of the crew was a nice young man. I guess he was listening to me talk to my kids as he was cleaning the bathroom, because he abruptly asked me where I was from.
"Boston." I replied. *pause* "Why?"
"I could tell by your accent," he informed me. Then, "How long have you lived here?"
"Five years," was my answer. That's when he gave me a funny look.
The truth is that I worked very hard to lose my accent when I moved away from New England. That was in 1995. I figured the Boston was all gone by now, but apparently not.
"Do you find yourself starting to talk like us sometimes?" he then asked.
"Sure do," I replied. "Y'all are fixin' to turn me into one of y'all."
Which brings me to another related story. My mother is coming to visit. She arrives tonight and stays until Wednesday. My husband will be away and my father is staying back home. It is going to be so nice. But her Boston accent is one of the thickest I ever heard. Her license plate on her mini van says, "quilta". SO if I start talking about driving my cah to the habah to eat my lobstah with buttah, chowdah, and a beeah afta, you'll know why.
Have a great day everyone!
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