French Word-A-Day

joyeux

Our Jackie turned 5 when this word journal began. Here she is at eleven (two years ago) helping Braise (brez) get dressed for today's birthday party!

     Today marks the 8th anniversary of this French word journal!

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joyeux, joyeuse (zhwa-yuh, zhwa-yuhz) adjective

    : cheerful, merry, joyful

Listen to my daughter's message, and to the French word "joyeux": Download Wav or MP3 


A Day in a French Life... by Kristin Espinasse

  "And now.. a Word or Two about You"

I have another confession: I have never been good at événementiel (or "event organization"). Jean-Marc planned our wedding, each and every detail (contacted the French priest, ordered the fleurs, selected the menu, had les bagues engraved, and all but tried on the long white robe & satin-trimmed veil for me).

The "big day" found his blushing bride-to-be tripping over a street grate, late for a very important date! I have been trying to make up for that unforgettable entrance ever since: by continuing to réviser a simple lesson from my husband: relax and enjoy life and, especially, celebrate the milestones!

Today marks the 8th anniversary of this French word journal and I am ready to celebrer this joyful event. I've ordered the flowers (okay, I swiped several from "Mama Jules"), and selected the menu: a sweet and savory buffet of words.

Now listen up: this is where you come in (and not as a clumsy bride!):

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I would like to ask you to share a word or two... about yourself. Are you an 85-year-old collector of Southwestern art? Or a new mother, up to her ears in dirty diapers? Are you in a marching band? Do you read this word journal in school? Are you famous? ...or infamous? (or related to someone who is?). Do you speak more than two languages? Can you make your ears move? or can you do the splits?

Do you suspect you are the youngest on this list--or the oldest? Are you a tattoo artist or do you dabble in watercolor? Have you invented something? Do you like frogs legs or are you carrément contre la cuisine des cuisses de grenouilles? Do you have an unusual skill? Do you decorate your window sill? Are you involved in a charity? Have you written a book and do you want to "buzz it" here? Are you shy? Ever won a prize? Or eaten an entire pie? Are you on a mission? Do you have a blog or a website and where can we find you on the web?

Now's the time to de-lurk... time to write just a line or two about you... s'il vous plaît! Meantime, thank you for reading this word journal and for helping to create a cozy community as we move into our ninth year: one sweet and savory word at a time.

Thank you very much, in advance, for sharing something about you, in the comments box. Note: the next post will go out on November 5th, after a short break :-)

  

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jojo

Municipal flower pot in Valréas.

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jojo (zho zho) adjective

    : short for "joli(e)", pretty
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 Audio file (not available today... désolée!)

 

A Day in a French Life... by Kristin Espinasse

I followed Madame's directions and ended up at the medieval church, looking up at those "magnifiques fronts", the faces of which were almost as long as my own. Staring up at the church's eaves, where sculpted eyes stared back at me, I searched for God knows what: familiarity? unity?

My eyes scoured the stone faces but, try as I might, I could not "connect" or feel the warmth that had left me back at the little placette, where I had said mes au revoirs. Madame with the soft white curls and sentimental scarf  had surely returned to the room behind the window of white hearts. Why had she sent me here? Why were these sour faces so sweet to her?

I hurried back to the farmers' market to pick up a few bricoles before leaving the town of Valréas. Walking along I was awed by the municipal flower pots which lined the polished streets, punctuating every corner. The bright red blooms tumbled over, flowing almost to the cobbled ground. A little girl, no more that three, tousled her mother's hair as the latter knelt down to tie the toddler's shoes. The girl's fingers were light as feathers, little birds in her mother's silky hair. "Ça suffit, chérie," the mother said, standing up in time to fix her disheveled locks. I smiled at mère et fille as the two turned down the street, the sound of church bells behind them. It was eleven a.m.

"Quel joli sourire!" exclaimed the butcher, as I strode past his stand. I stopped, feeling both embarrassed and obliged... I wondered whether we needed some bacon, after all? I took my place in line.

"Yes! A very pretty smile!" repeated the butcher. There was no way I would leave now, and so I stood, awkwardly so. Relief came when the butcher turned his attention to the frail lady in the front of me. "And you, too! What a lovely smile you have!"

"Oh, no. I do not have good teeth," the woman said, apologetically. "Non, je ne suis plus jojo!" She turned, focusing her pale blue eyes on me. "But it is good to smile! Life is hard enough..." she said, gently. With that, everybody in line nodded and clucked their tongues in commiseration. I wondered about the various hardships beneath all those clucking tongues. Was it lost love? Bad health? A job loss?

Next, a man in a wheelchair arrived and took his place in line behind me. Collective hardships were forgotten as tongues abruptly quit clucking. All eyes focused on the butcher, who broke the silence.

"Debout!" "Stand up!" he roared, pointing his knife at the man in the chaise roulante.  

For one surreal moment I stood frozen. If I'd had a pair of earmuffs I would have thrown them over the man's oreilles, sparing him the butcher's words, which seemed to amount to one big and very bad joke.

I turned to greet the man in the wheelchair. His face was handsome or, to borrow a new word I'd just learned from Madame, "jojo". Yes, he was a joli homme or, rather, un bel homme with caramel brown hair and eyes the color of marrons. 

"Je vous dis, DEBOUT!" the butcher thundered, becoming even more animated.

The moments that followed were awkward, made almost unbearable by the bel homme's silence. Suddenly, his face lit up. "Cher ami," he said to his friend, "I haven't walked in 25 years... and it isn't your half-witted hollering that's going to make a difference now!"

The two men exchanged friendly bonjours and soon it was back to business. "What can I get you today, mon grand?" he said to his friend in the wheelchair. With that, the butcher winked at me as I stood marveling at the locals and their camaraderie.

Le Coin Commentaires

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French Vocabulary

magnifique = magnificent

le front = face (of statue, building)

la placette = small "place" or (village) square 

mes au revoirs = my goodbyes

une bricole = a thing

ça suffit, chérie = that's enough, dear one

mère et fille = mother and daughter

quel joli sourire = what a pretty smile

non, je ne suis plus jojo = no, I am no longer pretty

debout! = stand up!

une chaise roulante = wheelchair

une oreille = ear

le marron = chestnut

je vous dis debout! = I tell you, stand!

cher ami = dear friend

mon grand = big boy, dear

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Our Jackie, with Braise (left) and Braise's son Smokey

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exquis

Just a very fun word to say today: exquis (ex kee): it also describes the woman in today's story....

 exquis (ex kee) adjective

    : exquisite

synonyms: avenant (pleasant), doux (sweet), fin (delicate)
 
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A Day in a French Life... by Kristin Espinasse

It must be getting close to lunchtime. My head is light and my fingers are numb from the cold. I have been taking photos for hours now, weaving in and out of the village of Valréas on market day.

The greasy aroma of rotisserie chicken is pulling me by the nose, back to the rond-point, where I have parked my car opposite the old imprimerie, which is now a fitness studio. Exercise is something I am getting so little of lately. I hope my two-hour leisure walk counts for something (20-minutes on the treadmill?).

Though tempted to see what's cooking at the farmer's market, I am held into place by an invisible tie, mesmerized by this pretty placette before me, where a tall treille of vines makes for a charming front-step awning, or marquise. I am studying the canopy of grapes when a white-haired woman stops beside me and follows my regard to the top of the leafy lattice. She nods her head, which is crowned by soft, shoulder-length curls.

"Il y a de belles photos à avoir par là," she hints, turning her gaze to the passage just below, à gauche.

"Ah bon?" I turn to greet my informant with a bonjour followed by a merci for stopping like that, just to help me, the stranger in jeans and a jean jacket, or modern-day camouflage.

"Attendez une minute," the woman suggests, walking a few more feet to the next doorsill, where she sets down her market panier which is brimming with chrisanthemums. I notice the large antique key that she uses to open the 18th century porte.

I am waiting beside a window with white hearts sprayed onto the glass and realize this must be her kitchen fenêtre.
"J'aime bien ces coeurs," I offer to the silence in between us. 

The woman sets her panier on the other side of the door-well, shuts and locks the door before joining me beneath the treille with grapes that now dangle above our heads like fancy ornaments. She pulls her coat close and I notice the homemade scarf made of loose strings. I have one similar to it, somewhere... I wonder if hers was a gift, too?

The white-haired woman with the homemade scarf points to the end of the impasse on which she lives. Next, she looks down past her feet....
"Below these cobblestones... ça communique...." she confides. I understand that she is referring to an underground passageway. I remember all of the memorial signs I had stopped to read, about all the martyrs that were fusillé by firing squads during the second world war. I imagine a basement cellar inside her village home, with a one-time access to the network of underground alleyways. I wonder if Madame was here during the war? 

Another woman, trailing a cart-on-wheels, walks slowly past the other end of the portico, beneath which we had passed minutes before. "Salut Marie-Jo!" Madame calls out.

"Now there's a relic!" Madame confides, loud enough for her friend to hear.

"What's that?" Mary-Jo replies.

Madame turns to me, answering her friend, indirectly. "This is a visitor who finds our village beautiful!"

Mary-Jo nods, looking a scad confused.

"A relic that one!" Madame giggles.

"Comment?" the relic wants to know. 

"I said 'cover up', Mary Jo. It's cold out!" Having dismissed her friend, Madame returns her full attention to me. "Now, for some good photos, you just follow this path...." and with that Madame offers instructions on where to find a series of magnificient "fronts", or "faces" that were fashioned into a wall. "You must see them! Magnifique!" 

But I am not sold on the idea, and feel reluctant to leave. I don't want pictures of the sculpted faces. I want her face!

"But can't I take your picture?" I ask.

Madame's hand flies up like a bird and lands in her white hair. "It's a nest! A veritable nest!" she declaires, adding, apologetically, that a photo will not be possible.

I do not know what to say next. After all, she is not the disheveled one that she makes herself out to be. No! She is endearing, exquise! Her hair, is winter white and bouclé, and her face is a tableau of soft impressions. I am certainly impressionnée.

Hesitant, I follow her instructions and walk on, regretfully. I could have argued with her. I might have pointed out that that is no bird's nest on her pretty head: the soft, pearly curls, they are her crowning glory.

Le Coin Commentaires: Corrections and feedback welcome here.

 

French Vocabulary

le rond-point = roundabout

une imprimerie = printing shop

la placette = little (village) square, place

la treille = climbing vine, trellis

une marquise = canopy of shelter, awning 

Il y a de belles photos à avoir par là = there are pretty photos to be had this way

à gauche = to the left

ah, bon? = oh, really?

bonjour = hello

merci = thank you

attendez une minute = wait a minute

le panier = basket used to carry "les denrées" (f) or foodstuffs

la porte = door

la fenêtre = window

J'aime bien ces coeurs = I like these hearts

ça communique = this communicates, or joins

fusillé = shot down by a firing squad

salut = hi

comment = what did you say?

magnifique = magnificent

exquise = exquisite

bouclé(e) = curly

 

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