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I had a concert last weekend for which my 80+ year-old grandparents drove all the way from Tennessee. It was the first time they’ve ever seen me sing professionally, we had about two hundred people at the concert, and I sold 33 cds in one shot. It was really wonderful. To celebrate, we bought a pineapple upside down cake from a lady who lives in Chesterfield and ends every sentence with “Praise the Lord.” Bernie of Bernie’s Baked Goods. Best Cake Ever. Here’s a blurry picture:
Also, we are watching Jeeves and Wooster from the beginning. I encourage any ladies who already have a crush on the fabulously talented Mr. Laurie not to read his Wikipedia entry. He’s actually much better than you can possibly imagine. Breeding, intelligence, talent. It’s all there, girls. I tried so hard to hate the British and the French. I married an Indian, for crying out loud. Why, why does Western Europe still taunt me with it’s exceeding pretension and glorious way of life? Luckily, my husband has a snooty-sounding accent and a wonderful vocabulary. This helps to ease all these undesirable cravings I have (like being born into a life of leisure). He’s also handsome and “debonair.” All I need now is to cultivate a love for the Ballet, the Classics and sundry moldy cheeses. Whatever shall I do with my vast Archie Comics collection?
For some reason people at my office regularly use the word bailiwick. I find this very odd. It is not a common word. Furthermore, they don’t use it in any legal sense. Rather, they say things like, “well that assignment isn’t really my bailiwick.” Bizarre! Firstly, there are any number of words that are far more common that one could use in that context (purview, jurisdiction, responsibility, etc..). Next, these are not people who are prone to flowery or baroque language. It would be much more normal if they said “That’s not my assignment” or “I don’t know anything about that.” Lastly, we aren’t English bailiffs from the 15th century. This is clearly some sort of etymological virus that’s spreading throughout the firm and I intent to stop it. It sounds silly.
It’s actually just a patio, but the word veranda has a more interesting etymology. Veranda was absorbed into the Portuguese language (and subsequently into English) from Portugal’s East Asian colonies in Goa. The word originally comes from Hindi. Fascinating. So, we did our own little outdoor blending of cultures today, in what will hence forth be known as The Veranda. Tim, our good friend Steven, of Scotch-Irish stock, Benedict Praneeth, formerly of Bangalore, Richard, a crazy Ukranian-Chilean-and-who-knows-what-else mutt, and Jefferson, the greatest bear of them all*, all built The Veranda in our backyard. It looks amazing! We are very excited to be hosting Kelly and Richard’s engagement party on this very Veranda in August. Twill be “A Night to Remember.” (we are thinking of giving it a theme like a prom. Mine from high school were “Wonderful Tonight” and “Ain’t Going Down til the Sun Comes Up.” For Kelly and Richard maybe “Tore Up from the Floor Up” or “Hotdogs and Butts: A Retrospective.”)
A quick before and after with links to see the process if you’re bored (click on the pics).
*added too late to count.
We did it ourselves, suckers!
The Veranda at Grayland
Tim and I are an interracial, inter-cultural couple. In today speak, that translates to “SO COOL.” We get to have beautiful mixed babies and can randomly dress up in saris and kurtas without looking like we’ve come from an organic grocery store in Charlottesville. We have had very few actual fights or misunderstandings because of different cultural expectations or practices. A large part of that is because we share the same religion. Another reason is because Tim has lived in the US more than he’s lived anywhere else. In fact, I remember being shocked the first time someone referred to us as an interracial couple because I had never thought of us as such. But whatevs, right? I love Indian food, Tim likes bluegrass, we both have amazing parents and siblings. It just hasn’t been an issue.
Until the old dividing rod came out last Christmas. The wheat-and-chaffer, you might say. If you’re ever in a situation where you’d like to make a foreigner feel like even more of an outsider, pull out your favorite childhood board game. I believe this applies universally. When I was in India last summer to visit Tim’s family, a hotel we stayed in had a Carroms board. It’s basically like foosball with your fingers, and when I tried to play, even Tim’s mother and sister, who, like me, are very unlikely to be good at any kind of game or sport, could easily win. What we experienced last Christmas was like that Carroms game, only on a much deeper level.
We decided to take our Balderdash game over to the Singh’s house for good family fun after our Christmas Day meal. The players included Tim and myself, Tim’s sister, Tim’s father, mother, and aunt and some friends of the family (also Indian). We explained the directions to everyone: just like the dictionary game, except LOADED. You get movies, acronyms, and words you’ve never heard of and try to make others believe that your made up answer is the correct one. We pulled a real peach out for the first one. A movie title. Wild Women of Wongo. An excellent card! We were supposed to write out plot summaries. Somewhere between expectations of American culture, constant TV watching, and being from India, these were some of the respones (and yes we memorized them):
“These incredible women go wild whenever they eat wongos. Imagine an island full of them. It will blow your mind”
“Where women want to go but won’t. You guessed it. Not the jungle.”
These were given by Tim’s aunt and mother. They somehow understood “voice-over for a soft porn trailer” instead of “plots summaries.” Tim’s “uncle” (as in not a relative, just a guy) delivered one that was epic in scope. Love, loss, coming of age and social awareness, all wrapped up in a heartwarming tale of some kind. He may have even scripted a few songs in his summary.
Maybe the next card will be better, we thought. An acronym! I. O. A. You know, like, Institute of Aardvarks, Interactive Optics Association. That kind of thing.
“Intent of Approach”
“I Owe Audrey”
“In Or Aught”
I think “aught” ceased to be a usable English word sometime around India’s conquest. I once had to play charades in Brazil and had to act out “anvil,” so I am not pointing any fingers. But East is East and West is West. I’m just saying.
