Translation, please
February 5, 2003i met a boy who collects foreign words and i like that idea. collecting words, like pebbles or fortunes or ticket stubs. i used to know how to say i’m hungry in nine languages, but i only remember five.
tabatchoy (tah bah choy): someone overweight; a term one would use to tease, much like “fatso.”
a lady at the flea market on sunday asked me if i was asian. she stood a foot away from me at a table covered with old jewelry and knick-knacks. when i said yes, she dangled a medallion in the air and said, “can you tell me what this says?”
madaldal (mah dahl dahl’): chatty; talkative; rambly.
i looked at the characters on the metal coin, but my head translated it as art, not language. it was beautiful.
maarte (mah ahr’ tay): artsy-fartsy; also having a flair for the dramatic.
“no,” i told her. “i can only read english.”
“oh really?” she said, with wide eyes and a fallen smile. “that’s too bad. i really want to know what it says.”
I'm Christine, and this is a slice of my life—a sweet, rich, wildly indulgent slice that would taste really good with a scoop of Breyers vanilla bean ice cream. Read more >>
I run a darling, friendly, little graphic design studio.
I look on the bright side.
I take photos. Lots of photos.
I wish on stars and on websites.
I built my first web site 7 years ago and got 15 seconds of fame. (It changed my life.)
I launched, then relaunched, an online magazine.
I admitted to several embarrassing crushes.
I consumed more bacon than any human should and lived to tell the tales.
