if I had the word would I use it?

10:

Number of days it took for me to finally drop a reference to the cliché “lost in translation.”

Mireille is going out on Friday night for a dinner and a chat with friends so I get the apartment to myself. She said I could do what I wanted so I’m going to have Kassie (Clarkie) and Louisa (our lovely German) over for a thoroughly American meal. (read: pancakes probably with peanut butter– applicable at any hour of the day). And wine, just because.

This country doesn’t know of the thing called “bisquick,” a petite tragedie, and does not lend itself well to description.

Later in this same profound conversation, when she said I could do what I wanted I laughed. My mom tends to say the same thing but follows it up by adding “don’t have a rager.” Have you ever tried to explain “rager” to an older French woman without an American college experience?

Later, during the same eventful dinner, she gave me a new baguette to dig into. This one was real long. I told her that sometimes at home when a baguette goes too hard my mother and/or I will pick it up and promptly begin to hit things in order to confirm it’s general state. Or we’ll feign baseball with any other poor small compact object in our kitchen that dared stray past its day of acceptable use.

I just don’t think she gets our people.

And by our people I mean the residents of chez moi, Maine.

Other highlights:

We started a new non-language course yesterday. The prof came to class wearing her [ must have been 13 year old daughter’s] shirt that said “parfaite ou Presque” (perfect or almost”) in sparkly script. Lady, there aren’t enough interesting things in any language that you can say in this world to make me not distracted by that shirt.

Monsieur Sparkly trousers set a pretty solid precedent but I’m feeling good about this.

A bientot.