I love northern Virginia, I love South Riding, I love my community, I love my street, I love my neighbors, I just love where we live. It is a wonderful place to live and a terrific place to raise a family and make great friends. The schools are wonderful, shopping is conveniently located in our compound and if I dressed better I might be confused with a Stepford wife.
There is one drawback of living in northern Virginia and that is communication barrier that exists between us. Now, this is not a stereotype situation and I would never consider myself intolerant to other races. BUT, I do want to be able to drive thru a McDonald’s and place an order that doesn’t get effed up. Further, I don’t want the suggestion of, “Would you like to try a Big Mac” to sound just like, “Wow, you have a nice rack”. It’s confusing and complimentary all at the same time (I do make a deposit in my positive self esteem account when this happens). When I say, “I want two Happy Meals for GIRLS”, three times, and I still get the Batman toy I want to drive my van right through the front door.
The other day I was at the nail salon and the owner looks up as I walk in and says, “Help You?” I point to my feet and say loudly, “I want a ped-i-cure”, as if pointing to my feet, saying it loudly and enunciating my speech like a first grade teacher will clarify any confusion between us. So without missing a beat from her current nail fill, she yells something that sounds like war has been declared and a voice from the back says, “What?” Nothing happens and she yells the same war cry again. Still nothing. She yells it a third time and when the voice says, “What?” she says “Jesus Christ – you not understand our language? You have a pedicure to do, get your ass out here!” I laughed so hard I was almost crying and she just looks at me and shrugs and goes back to filling her client’s nails.
Organizing play dates has become a full time job. When my daughter says she wants a play date with Haima or Sriya, I just start thinking about how I am even going to look the parents up in the school listing. “Ok, what is Haima’s last name?” When she tells me all I hear is about 15 vowels together and a very noticeable lack of consonants. I felt relieved when I ran into Haima’s mom at a birthday party and after she asked my name a couple of times, she handed me a piece of paper and told me to write it down for her. Thank goodness, it is not just me! After the play date at Haima’s house, I inquired as to how it went and was told, “Great, I didn’t understand her mom and Haima had to translate”. I said Haima’s mom speaks English” and she said, “Not our English!”
Nothing is ever easy, you got to work for your bliss!