Let Saigons be Saigons

I don't understand what the woman who cuts my hair is saying.

She's very sweet, and she's great at what she does, but her Vietnamese accent is so strong I have no idea what she's talking about.

The only thing I can figure out is that the stories she's telling are meant to be amusing.  I say this because she giggles at the end of them.  And some of them are apparently about her kids, something I know only because she once pointed to a framed photo of them.

When I first started going to her, I...