twitsandblobs

My husband and I are planning a trip to Paris don’tcha know! Fancy huh?  No doubt, it will be exciting, romantic and filled with delicious foods, stimulating art and ,sadly, jet lag.  You will not hear me complain though; for this trip is something we have been dancing around for years.  To make this dream excursion  even better, our good friends, Kathleen and David, will be chunneling from London to meet us in France.  Together we will explore this magical city, enjoy long, relaxed lunches complete with champagne and chocolate, and watch the  most fashionable women in the world stroll by.  Ahhhhh.  Cannot wait.

To prepare properly, I have been spending a little time with Rosetta Stone. Not enough time mind you, but a little.  Better than nothing.  So far I have mastered the tongue as long as all I say is,”The man is eating.  The man is not swimming.”  So, that is what I plan to say.  Of course I know the usual greetings and casual expressions but the only complete declaration I can make is, “The man is eating. The man is not swimming.”  And if the ugly truth be told, what I am probably saying is something like, “The man is for to eat.  The man will no for swim,” or something like that.  You get the picture.  OK.  Truth or tell.  I am disgusted with my lazy self for not starting on the French lessons months ago.  The yellow box containing this power has been sitting on my desk staring at me for weeks and weeks.  Rosetta has been calling my name.  “Mademoiselle Donna Gay!    Be one with me!  I can take you places!  Let me get into your head!”  But, as with a lot of things, I put it off and put it off.  Other things took priority and before I knew it, well….all  I can say is something along the lines of, “The man eats.  The man does not swim.”  That’s ok though because as soon as we touch down in the land of croissants and crepes, I will pick up the language, right?  I hope so.  One hears stories about the snooty attitude of Parisians, but surely somebody will help me.  Right?  They are just people after all.  Not all of them could be snobby America haters right.  Or….or….I can just make sure that my mouth is full of pastries most of the time, so no one expects me to say anything.  Right?  Good plan.  Right?   C’est bon.