Speaking Boston

I left Boston 29 years ago in September. Boston has not left me. It is in my accent in English and French and confuses the Rosetta Stone German program.

My husband from upstate New York, still teases me that he had to discover that the Yan lady is not Chinese, but the woman who runs the yarn store. He even understands that Cahn't and Ahunt are real words.

He is used to cah, yahd, Havahd and many other words where an R melts into an H. Mostly now, after seven years, he understands, but from time-to-time, there is blank look on his face and I try and replace the missing R.

Last night we went to l'Hostalet as we do most nights. It is the coolest place in town, the owners are friendly, there wines, juices, teas and coffees are great.

Because of the heat and a desire to have a bit of time to ourselves, we left Sherlock at home. Also the night before, Sherlock voiced his constant displeasure that he had to share the place with their cat.

"We want a bahk free-night," I said to the owner. He had the I-don't-understand frown. "Bahk-Free."

Then I understood. I was speaking Boston. He was hearing English. "BaRk, woof, woof." 

He smiled. Misunderstanding solved.