Day 51: French

I took French in college. I remember the skits clearly. Mireille Deschamps bumps into a guy trying to grab the same cab. In NY, this would end in bad language and unspeakable sign language, but in Paris, it ends up being a romance. I forget which, but either Mireille or the guy (let's call him Pierre) says, "J'habite a Place de la Concorde.", and off they go. I cannot recall much more since I was traumatized by my French prof who threatened to throw me out the window for not doing my homework. In fact, I was so traumatized that I cannot recall my third year of French, which my classmates insist I took.

So, it must come as a shock to all who know me that I am actually French. It may surprise all of you who heard my sister's inflight announcement, to learn that she is now also French, and is actually fluent in the language. I, on the other hand, have not progressed much. Every year, I open the same text book in the summer before heading to our summer house in France. Every year, I get to chapter 2. This explains why I am always in the present in French. Today, I need to read some business documents in French, and decide that I should use this sabbatical to master the basics. My French profs and tutors will be proud of me. I drag down a ladder from the garage, and locate my Bescherelle and French/English dictionary. I cannot find my text book. I must drag down a taller ladder later, or fly to France to rescue it from the gekkos.

With a new goal thus set, I drive into San Francisco for two lunches, one at 11:30 and another at 1:30. No wonder my jeans are tighter around my mid-section. I lunch with a total of three friends, a glass of pinot gris and lots of fun. Now, I suppose I should tackle the rest of the business document. As my kids told me a few years ago, they too were once as bad as I am in French, but if I persevere, I may just make it.