snoburbia, the blog

the new car

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We need to get a tiny car. This is because I put 60 - 100 miles on my minivan every day, mostly hauling overindulged children to various and sundry activities, and because $78 per tank is galling.

But what kind of tiny car should I get?

My first choices would be the new Fiat 500c or a Mini Cooper convertible or a Smart car. Okay, more realistically then - a Honda Fit or a Toyota Yaris. Or maybe a Toyota Prius. But hark, what's that cute car I saw in outer suburbia the other day? Oh, never mind... it was American, a Chevy. I can't have the only* American car in snoburbia.

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* Hulking SUVs notwithstanding

Easter in snoburbia

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Easter in overclass snoburbia is a low-key affair. Unlike outer suburbia or where I grew up, there is nary a tree filled with hanging plastic eggs or a front yard filled with giant inflatable Easter bunnies. In fact, you hardly see any Easter decorations at all. Obviously it's because people have more restrained tastes or don't want to offend their neighbors.

Or maybe it's because half of snoburbia is Jewish, Unitarian or atheist.

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eeeek! bedbugs

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During this weekend's trip to New York, I was thinking about the things I wanted to bring home. One of them was not bedbugs. I am freaking about possible bedbugs in my hotel room. If they were at the Plaza, then they might not mind taking up quarters in my not-$755-a-night hotel (where I zipped my bag inside one of those Hefty Big Bags).

But I don't have to worry, right? We would never allow bedbugs in snoburbia.  [Covering my ears - I can't hear  you, I can't hear you, I can't hear y0u.]

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vamoose

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So I told my mother I am taking the bus to New York this weekend. What? The bus?!

So maybe she was imagining a scary ride with the great unwashed, like the time a guy was beheaded on a Greyhound bus in Canada. Or that time when I was 16 and rode the Trailways bus to North Carolina. In the Knoxville, Tenn., depot, at 3 a.m., a greasy haired, toothless man tried to hit on me until the big mama next to me literally took me under her arms and told him to, I quote, "Git."

But no, mom, I said, it's the Vamoose bus. It's faster and cheaper than the Amtrak or flying. It's cushy, clean, new(ish) - and it leaves from snoburbia, filled with snoburban people with good haircuts, people carrying smart phones and laptops. It has Wi-Fi. It doesn't stop anywhere else to let people of a non-snoburban character on board.

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but i don't want to be president

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Sitting across from me in the waiting room in snoburbia was a darling blond boy, about nine years old, intelligent and charming, wearing his private school khakis, blue oxford and striped tie, sitting with his nanny, doing his homework and talking on his iPhone (worrying about his science project), waiting to see his therapist.

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rain boots

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It's April 1 in snoburbia, and besides being a holiday (the day your kid gets his college acceptances), it's the day to pull out your rain boots. If you are a snoburban female between the ages of, say, 15-50, you must own a pair of knee-high rain boots. You must wear your jeans tucked into your boots. I own several pairs.

Or maybe it's just a D.C. thang? A group of us went out of state to a non-snoburban area, and it rained. So naturally we wore our rain boots. We must have heard at least 50 women say, "I love your boots!" And we were like, What? Everyone where we live has rain boots.

If you live in Chevy Chase or McLean, the boots must be Hunter or Burberry.

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