I can't tell him to stop because I'm ashamed

Once upon a time, there was a pushover for manual labor services. She would do just about anything to get out of cleaning most things, windows included. A day came when a knocking on the door didn't mean it was a charity asking for bank details; it was the neighbor's friend who had a business cleaning outside windows, upstairs and downstairs.

She was ecstatic to solve the issue for such a low price, figuring it was a one off. And she was glad to help a blue collar man in this economy. But he came back the next month to clean the windows...and the next. Each time, she was caught off guard by the sound of the wet soapy brush attacking the upstairs window; he always started from the top. Each time, she scrambled through the change jar for the £4 to pay for the session. It hadn't been her understanding that he'd wash the windows every month but, she mused, this was the price you pay when you speak the same language but have a different accent. Plus it was nice to be on good terms with your neighbors, otherwise he might throw meat on top of the roof.

She never had cash in the house on the days he came. After a couple of months of embarrassed scrambling through the change jar's dwindling contents (really, she could've paid in 2p's but that would've been silly; 50p's and pound coins were more sophisticated) he handed her his bank details so she could pay him online. She took the half-slip of paper, glanced over it as he responded to her inquiry of how much she owed him. It was only £8. She'd thought it was closer to £21. And then she noticed his name at the bottom. Graeme. Inwardly, she high-fived herself, thinking "finally! I couldn't remember his name."

He paused, checking her face to see if he had overstepped society's line of service relationships. She grinned back, reassuring him that she'd take care of it that day. After he left, she sat and looked at the paper, wondering if she should pay the bill. After all, if you don't pay for services, do you continue to receive them?

Day 10- The First Novel You Remember Reading

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• Gone With the Wind- not the typical Babysitters' Club chapter book loved by the age group...don't get me wrong, I liked those book superhard.

•  I was in 5th grade and I needed another reason to set me apart from all the other girls. The beige horn-rimmed glasses, frizzy perm, and general pudge just weren't cutting the mustard.

• It was my Grandma's favorite movie.

• Just another way to connect to her. And remember her. She sure did like that Clark Gable. Don't think she knew about his halitosis.

The one where I admit I cry...30 Days of Books- Day 6

I think this might come in handy if I ever find myself in a job situation where I'd hear these phrases.

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Makes me think of the funniness of Americans saying "Have a nice day." We most times mean it. I mean it when I say it, especially to bus drivers. I will go out of my way to make a bus driver feel better just so the next batch of riders don't have to be jerked around due to poor/fast driving. Asking someone "how are you today?" here seems to not be a throwaway salutation like it is back home. No one here responds with "Fine" or "Just fine." Nope, they think about your question and answer it.

What other throwaway salutations can you think of that I can use in the shop? I'm running out of phrases and I  "cain't ree-lie on mah charmin' ack-sent all thuh tie-m".

Oh the perils of language, I heart thee. Today, I said to two customers as they were leaving the store, "Thanks for coming in!"  The daughter turned to her dad and asked him, "What did she say?"

Day 6- A Book That Makes You Cry

Have read this sucker three times now since last August.

There's lots of books that make me cry. Nicholas Sparks, Cecilia Ahern... you are like my contact and my eye is like my eye and I've got my eye on you. ಠ_ಠ

Because I heart this book so much so, I pick The Help. I cry at the end. Abileen's and Mae Mobley's relationship, to me, is the most poignant of all delineated in this novel. Most likely, it's because kiddo's the same age-ish.

And there's a good underlying theme that I want to teach kiddo for when she's a grownup... no matter what circumstances we find ourselves born into, we all start out the same... We want to grow up with love and respect for ourselves and others. We all want to be recognized. We all want someone to tell us that we are kind and smart, to help us start believing in ourselves.

Here's an obvious statement: children aren't born hating the world and those who live on it. Hate is a learned behavior, a cultural phenomenon. And I think it is slowly, gradually on it's way out. Take for instance the case of the Texas (whyitalwaysgottabeTexas?) teacher who taunted a Muslim student the day after OBL's death, "I heard your uncle died", and "I bet you're grieving." A different student, a friend of the girl's, witnessed this and took steps to address the situation. And the two girls, friends, are of different creeds... and it didn't matter. You can read about it yourself here and see the news video also.

What I took from The Help is that norms are the lines that form uncrossable boundaries between each of us...those of status quo, of belief systems, of beauty standards...they're like monsters in the closet. The lines exist only in our heads. And I'm all for stepping over the line.

I'm looking forward to the movie adaptation. What book makes you cry?

Geordie Phrase of the Day vol. 2

Twice yesterday, two customers at two different times (also two different genders) said they were "just having a bit of a mooch."

Urban Dictionary (thank God for that crap) had so many different meanings that if I only knew the first two, I'd've been offended. As it was intended however, it is "aimless carrying out of tasks subconsciously". Otherwise known as browsing.

Some more fun:

"Divn't dunch us!" = Don't bump into me. (Found on a bumper sticker.)

"Hoo's ya fettle?" = How are you?

"Ta-rah now, pet." = Goodbye (to a female. Also duck and flower can be interchanged with pet)

"Ootside! Yeandme!" = Let us step outside and settle our differences, man to man, like gentlemen. (I've only heard this the once. Bunch of tossers.)

If you want to order a ham sandwich (which you shouldn't because it's not all that common) you'd say, "Ah want a ham bait." And since you most likely shouldn't order the ham sandwich due to you being able to get ham at home, (why are you ordering a ham sandwich on vacation!?) you should order the chicken and sweetcorn jacket, which is a baked potato. Or if you don't like chicken and sweetcorn, try tuna and beans on your jacket potato. It's very nice.

Should your friend get the same thing you order and doesn't eat very neatly, you could say to them, "Yee hev summat on yor face."

When husband comes home and you're up to the elbows in dishes/laundry/diapers/wet mani-pedi, you can tell your hinney to "tek the doog yeut fo' a pee, me hands are full up now."

The Geordie accent is among a few other British accents to appear to be discriminated against based on what I've seen and read online. But that Cheryl Cole from the X Factor is Geordie and also call centers report that listeners say it is a relaxing accent. So things are looking up for Geordie speakers.

So, leave a comment with what you want translated into Geordie. This should be fun. Ta-ra now, pets/ducks/flowers.

Geordie Phrase of the Day vol. 1

Yay, for me. Yay for you too if you need that sort of affirmation. I had my first full shift and there's nothing to tell other than I had a bit of an ache in my back when I finished. Anyone who has ever worked in a mall, selling whatever, knows what I'm on about. Selling nuts and assorted sundries, none of it I can eat or that I should eat (see stage right). Yay for job! I'm as excited as I can be. Really. It's going to get me out of the house! I appreciate all your happies for me. That means a lot.

The non-alcoholic ginger beer/wine was opened for sampling. I expected something similar to ginger ale. I was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Oh how wrong.

 

Supposedly it is a traditional beverage around the holidays as well as a nausea inhibitor...travel sickness, morning sickness. A winter warmer, so to speak. So, where's the antidote to this stuff? What do I drink to get rid of the nausea it itself induced? Oh how I long for a rootbeer. I can get a sarsaparilla or a cream soda...but no rootbeer. No rootbeer float for that matter. What did I learn today? The Dickensian recipe is not my thing, but yogurt covered raisins are okay.

In the course of the day, I picked up a couple of phrases I'd not heard yet:

1) "Flying around like a blue assed fly" and 2) "...having a right bad fettle."

Phrase one: US equivalent: running around like a chicken with it's head chopped off. (That got a small laugh.)

Phrase two: US equivalent: in a bad mood.

Also, the use of the plural pronoun "us" as a self-referencing pronoun. For example:

Friend: You coming out with us this Saturday?

Me: Who all is going?

Friend: Just me so far.

Here's another:

Friend: Och, he doesn't like us today very much.

Me: You and who else?

Friend: No, just me.

I get the impression that this is a language tic that is localized to areas north of the River Tyne.

Daylight savings won't happen here for another two weeks. The clock on my laptop had been the last bastion of my holding out against complete adjustment to life here. Upon arrival and unpacking, I didn't change it to the time I was geographically located in. It was just easier for me to remember home is six hours behind if it (the time) was staring at me from the little box in the lower right hand corner. A little bit of home here that took up neither shelf, floor, or drawer space. I'd look at that digital number representation and see that at 3pm here it'd be 9 am there. It was strangely comforting. It also (just a tiny bit) annoyed my husband. 

Small victories from minor skirmishes wins the war, people!

But since six hours is no longer the difference, due to the dastardly Daylight Savings Time Change, I've surrendered to the inevitable. I must do as the 'Romans' do as converting five hours is too much math for me. Can't be bothered. And since I've no clock hanging on the walls (ours broke during shipping, GAH!) and my phone is not always within reach, I should have the correct time at a glance, ness pah?

Although, in all likelihood (because of my natural prickliness and contrariness) I'll change it back to CST when we have our own time change here. Hey, if I've got to manually make the change, why not put it back to it's original factory settings?

Daunting cycle, innit?

How do you say....?

I follow this great gal, Mallori's blog, aiukli. She featured me on her blog this past Tuesday (Thanks! Love you!) and she had partaken in a challenge (Regional Dialect Vlog) where you read from a list of words and answer a few selected questions.


Another example of viral internet going around. 


Now, because of the nature of the "challenge", um, I'd have to do another video log. This is great! But I do assure you that I am not going to overload you with videos of me. Srsly, who would want that?  But because I've made such a big deal about my Dolly Parton accent (or lack thereof) I wanted in on this when it was all hotness and not hotmess