Interesting points of conversation from this week
The hippie neighbors flagrantly disregarded the “no fly” zones on the lawn again this week, and I was going to have to get all UN on them. Again, they did not answer their door. But before fuming and throwing bags of grass into the street, I spotted our neighbor casually walking her dog Startle with Sky (her daughter) tucked into a papoose.
I asked her about the yard, and she apologized for the weirdness. The landlord actually took it upon himself to leave bamboo type stuff on the front lawn. The rest of the conversation went like this:
Neighbor: I hope I didn’t bother you over Christmas when I went into labor.
WR: I was in Oklahoma, so no worries.
Neighbor: I wanted to give birth in the house but I delivered in a birth pool.
WR: Really. I was supposed to be born in a birth pool, too! My mom didn’t make it in time though.
Then we moved on to the subject of cloth diapers and how using them will save the world from diaper rash and unnecessary waste. So all is now right with the universe. And I have further evidence of my theory of the similarities between Indians and hippies.
Speaking of Indians, I had another interesting conversation this week. I met with a young philanthropist who wants to learn how to raise money for a small Indian school in Montana. When I introduced myself, his mother said, “Strange. Your name doesn’t sound Indian.” To which, I didn’t know how to respond. Would you prefer that I change my name to Squanto, or Powahatan? Or should I have responded with, “Strange, your name doesn’t sound Norwegian.”
See, lady, there is this societal expectation that women take on men’s names when they marry. My mom married a Filipino and my name sounds Portuguese. So whodathunk that my name might not sound Indian. I did always want to keep the family name Shotpouch. So you can call me Shotpouch from now on. Instead, I just smiled with an uncomfortable chuckle and we talked about how we could use examples of poverty to persuade people to make donations.
I asked her about the yard, and she apologized for the weirdness. The landlord actually took it upon himself to leave bamboo type stuff on the front lawn. The rest of the conversation went like this:
Neighbor: I hope I didn’t bother you over Christmas when I went into labor.
WR: I was in Oklahoma, so no worries.
Neighbor: I wanted to give birth in the house but I delivered in a birth pool.
WR: Really. I was supposed to be born in a birth pool, too! My mom didn’t make it in time though.
Then we moved on to the subject of cloth diapers and how using them will save the world from diaper rash and unnecessary waste. So all is now right with the universe. And I have further evidence of my theory of the similarities between Indians and hippies.
Speaking of Indians, I had another interesting conversation this week. I met with a young philanthropist who wants to learn how to raise money for a small Indian school in Montana. When I introduced myself, his mother said, “Strange. Your name doesn’t sound Indian.” To which, I didn’t know how to respond. Would you prefer that I change my name to Squanto, or Powahatan? Or should I have responded with, “Strange, your name doesn’t sound Norwegian.”
See, lady, there is this societal expectation that women take on men’s names when they marry. My mom married a Filipino and my name sounds Portuguese. So whodathunk that my name might not sound Indian. I did always want to keep the family name Shotpouch. So you can call me Shotpouch from now on. Instead, I just smiled with an uncomfortable chuckle and we talked about how we could use examples of poverty to persuade people to make donations.
posted by anarchic at 2:37 PM
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