FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

"Unfit mother" in French + A Celebration

The following is a curious choice for word-of-the-day on the eve of our son's 21st birthday, but the term mère indigne popped up in today's story. I then found an old word-a-day soundfile from when Max was 11 years old. So there you have it. An almost ready-made post! Here we go:

UNE MERE INDIGNE

    : an unfit mother

ECOUTEZ: Listen to a then 11-year-old Max pronounce the example sentence for indigne:
Download Wav 

Qui ne continue pas à apprendre est indigne d'enseigner.
He who ceases to learn cannot adequately teach. --Gaston Bachelard

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE...
"It may be broken but it tastes the same"

    by Kristi Espinasse


Dear Max,

In a matter of hours you will turn 21--and I will not make the mistake I made a few years back when I forgot to wish you Happy Birthday first thing in the morning.

(Quelle gaffe! And for the record: of course I knew it was your birthday! Especially after that first cup of coffee.)

Almost as soon as I gave birth to you in Marseilles, I learned a most dreadful French term: "mère indigne." It was used by parents in a seemingly joking sense: "Je suis une mère indigne!" French moms would say, exaggerating some oversight in the realm of nurturing (like forgetting to give their child homemade dessert, after the homemade main course). And there I was still trying to figure out how to make soup! (Water + veggies, Max. Don't sweat it.)

I won't go into the fears and regrets I had as a young mother in a foreign country before internet (where last month I learned how to make ravioli lasagna for your sister, who turns 19 in September). No! I would rather focus on my réussites, and one of my and your father's biggest successes (apart from your adorable sister) is YOU!

Now for a confession: I am still trying to figure out what to do for you on your birthday, and I thought, somehow, this open letter could be a part of that--if only to record noir sur blanc, my sincere intentions:

SO MAX, here's the agenda for MAY 17th....

1. Wish you Joyeux Anniversaire -- before the rooster crows! Before that first cuppa!

2. Take you shopping. While I believe less and less in shopping, this is one occasion where I believe in it BIG TIME ("big time," not as in "I'm gonna spend big on you!"... big time as in I won't make Mistake No. 2 again: appointing your sister as personal shopper (I was tempted to recycle last year's gift--the one Jackie picked out and charged on my card--that expensive activities "box" where you were to pick among skydiving, car racing, rafting...but I am not THAT desperate (if practical. And increasingly frugal). Besides, it came as a relief that you would not be jumping out of an airplane. Please choose the Romantic Dinner For Two for you and Mathilde. And hurry up before the coupon finally expires!!).

3. Make you your grandmother Michèle-France's gâteau chocolat! This year I'll use real birthday candles and not the ones I scrambled for in time's past (like those fondue candles--exhibit A, below--swiped from I Can't Remember Where...). And I'll try to make a more uniform cake even if, as I have always told you and your sister, "It may be broken but it tastes the same!"



                         A toothless Max

4. I've elected your Dad to cook one of his specialties: magret de canard with pears in honey! (I'll make the rice to go with it!)

5. Toot-toot! I'm going to ask readers to finish today's post and then come back and read this piece about you HERE.

And then I am going to brag to our guest, Chris--friend and wine importer from Portland, about what a wonderful son you are. I'm going to tell him--make that everyone!--about the rainbow-colored flowers you brought me, yesterday, out of the blue. And about how you and your sister dragged me out of the house, last night, to watch you two play tennis. And about how you taught Jackie all your tricks. And the complicité you two share. What a gift to a parent to see her children enjoying each other's company!

My favorite moment from yesterday, Max, was hearing you call out to me, as you have since you first learned to speak: "Mom look at me! Mom watch this! Maman! Regarde-moi!" Last night I watched you run up to the tennis net and--tucking both feet beneath you as you jumped--clear it! That smile on your face. That delight. That wish, want, or need to impress me. No matter how old you are my favorite words will always be: Look Mom! Regarde-moi! Say it at 30! Shout it at 65! I will be watching you forever--delighting in all you accomplish, whether that be graduating college...or urging your sister to call for a second interview (your encouragement worked! Jackie got her first summer job at the water park!).

Happy birthday, Mr Max. You know I love you. Now don't take me to the cleaners. I'll teach you that English idom when we go shopping later! Because if there's one place you and your sister are complice--or partners in crime--it's at the mall!

Jackie and Max in Aix-en-Provence.

The First Turn of the Key, A Housewarming, and France’s Quirky Floor Numbers

Le Bon Temps ("The Good Times")—the name of this local brasserie captures the spirit of why my son loves La Ciotat so much. Now, he's committing to a new home and a new chapter. In today's story, read about this exciting milestone. Below: a dreamy night view from Max and Ana's apartment.

TODAY'S WORD: La Crémaillère 

: housewarming party; housewarming

PRONUNCIATION: [kray-myeh-air]

EXAMPLE SENTENCE:
"Ce n’était qu’un coup de clé ce soir-là, la véritable crémaillère viendra plus tard."
"It was just a key-turning celebration that evening; the real housewarming party would come later."

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

1er Coup de Clé: On vous attend ce soir à 20 h pour notre premier coup de clé dans notre nouvel appartement.

The WhatsApp message read: “First Turn of the Key: We’re expecting you tonight at 8 PM for our first turn of the key in our new apartment.”

This was more than just an invitation—it was a milestone for Max and Ana. After several years together, this young couple had taken the next big step: buying a nest to call their own. For Jean-Marc and me, it was deeply moving to witness this commitment, a tangible sign of their journey and their shared dreams.

We were excited to see their new home, nestled just a few kilometers from Max’s previous apartment, closer to the foothills of La Ciotat and the famous, winding Route des Crêtes. This scenic road, flanked by purple bruyère fading to deep amber as the months grow colder, offered a hint of the charm in the new chapter Max and Ana were beginning.

Huddled in front of an open fenêtre, ice-cold air chilling our faces, we listened to Max as he continued our tour of the couple’s new digs.

"Here in the chambre d’amis, you can see the green hills in the distance—during the day, that is."

Looking out into the night sky, the scene was poetic: a full moon peeking through the clouds and the neighborhood below illuminated like a painting. A dark green pin parasol hinted at where we were in France—here near the Mediterranean Sea. “You can see it from the balcony," my son added. For Max, just like for his father, the sea, with its nearby islands to sail to, its prickly oursins to catch and savor, and its familiar maritime scent was an essential part of his habitat, given he was born near the coast and its rocky calanques. If, some 29 years ago, his first scent had been the rose petals his grandmother picked for him outside the maternity clinic, the next thing to tickle his nostrils was the salty sea air in Marseille!

"It's wonderful," I said. "The place has good bones!" Looking around, the walls were bare, exposing wiring, holes, and other secrets hidden behind the furniture the previous owners removed before their déménagement. From the looks of it, Max and Ana had a sizable renovation ahead of them, but from the sparkle in their eyes as they showed us around it was clear they were up for the challenge. Même pas peur! as the natives say.

Ana shared her plans for the following day: "Je vais attaquer le papier peint." While Max returned to work, Ana would be single-handedly removing all the wallpaper—in the dark (as the electric shutters would be completely closed and locked after tonight’s party, owing to the electricity being temporarily shut off).

The echo of our voices in the empty apartment, the pitter-patter of scratchy dog paws, and the tap tap tapping of our heels gave the space a lively, festive feel. But I couldn’t help wondering if the neighbor downstairs could hear it all. Would they complain about the noisy celebration? I hoped this spirited start wouldn’t get things off on the wrong foot with les voisins.

Thankfully, the younger generation doesn’t worry as much as I do. Everything fascinates them, especially human potential. "The woman above us, on the 4th floor is 92 years old," Max shared, raising his glass for the toast. "There’s no elevator, and she climbs the stairs at least once a day whether or not she has errands to run."

By the way, in France, what Americans call the 5th floor is referred to as the 4th floor. In the UK and other countries, where the ground floor is followed by the first floor, this system will feel more familiar. In France, the ground level is called the rez-de-chaussée (ground floor), making the first floor the one above it. It’s helpful to know this quirky system when navigating French buildings—or climbing stairs!

I could just picture the sprightly nonagenarian and her daily aller-retour on the central staircase. I love these examples of gumption and fortitude, whether from the venerable like the 92-year-old upstairs, or the young, like Ana, who can’t wait to make a dent in this renovation with a sledgehammer.

Making our way back through the hallway, we found a lively crémaillère underway. My brother-in-law Jacques and Ana were back in the kitchen, discussing which wall would come down, as well as drywall options—something Jacques specializes in.

In the living room, surrounded by the young couple's closest friends, ma belle-sœur Cécile and I helped ourselves to Ana's quiche maison. There were no chairs and the only furniture was a fold-out plastic table where the buffet, including une tarte aux pommes, several boxed pizzas, and some homemade bread was set. Noticing a few small gifts on the table, I wished I’d brought more than bread and toilet paper (le PQ seemed like a good idea, given the lack of supplies this first night). But this was really only a premier coup de clé, just hours after la signature chez le notaire, and not an official crémaillère. There would be plenty of time to find just the right cadeau—perhaps a lovely tapis to soften all the echoing. For now, though, it was enough to stand in this new space, surrounded by family, friends, the scent of homemade pie in the air, and the clickety-clack of dogs' paws marking their approval as little Izzy the beagle and Loca the French bulldog/Jack Russel bounded through the apartment.

Toasting to Max and Ana’s new beginning, it felt magical how a simple set of keys could unlock so much more than a door. It had opened a new chapter—a place for laughter, shared meals, and the dreams these two tourtereaux continue to build together in their new nest between the sea and still-blossoming hills above.

⚜️⚜️⚜️

Purple bruyère, or heather, fading to amber this time of year

In Max's previous apartment, Ana with flowers and Loca, the French bulldog/Jack Russell mix

In the heart of town, just across from the Tourist Office, colorful buildings echo the rich hues of autumn leaves, while the real estate office entices passersby with apartments and houses for sale or for rent.

COMMENTS
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FRENCH VOCABULARY

Audio File: Listen to Jean-Marc pronouce the French words in this story

la crémaillère = housewarming party
la Route des Crêtes = Crest road
la bruyère = heather
la fenêtre = window
la chambre d'amis = guestroom
le pin parasol = umbrella pine
l'oursin (m) = sea urchin
le déménagement = the house move
même pas peur = not even scared (a playful or defiant expression to show bravery)
Je vais attaquer le papier peint = I’m going to tackle the wallpaper
le/la voisin(e) = neighbor
un aller-retour = round trip 
la belle-soeur = sister-in-law
la quiche maison = homemade quiche
la tarte aux pommes = apple tart
le PQ (papier toilette) = toilet paper
le premier coup de clef = first turn of the key
la signature chez le notaire = the signing at the notary’s office
le cadeau = gift
le tapis = rug 
les tourtereaux = lovebirds

*In France, the ground floor is considered "0," so the "4th floor" is actually the 5th floor in American and English numbering systems.

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⚜️⚜️⚜️

Canular: How To Say Practical Joke in French? + Jackie & I have fun at Max's expense...

Merci for your encouraging notes following last week's update regarding subscribership. Your words revive me! Today's mischief takes place in La Ciotat (photo snapped outside Le Palais Lumière where a patch of daisies looks as innocent as a team of pranksters in hiding. Read on.) 

TODAY'S WORD: UN CANULAR

    : practical joke, prank, hoax

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

Getting cozy on the couch with a cup of tea and our shepherd Ricci, I watched my daughter prepare to leave for her brother's pour rendre un service.

Grabbing the car keys Jackie turned to me, "Mom, why don't you come along to Max's? We can walk Ana's dog while she’s away.” 
Visions of climbing 4 flights of stairs to my son's condo (to lead a scent-obsessed Beagle on a kilometer-long promenade) had me sinking back into the sofa. "J'ai la flemme," I admitted.

"Energy comes in moving!" Jackie countered.

Don't you love it when young people share their wisdom? Jackie is right. I needed to shake up my afternoon routine. Some salty fresh air and, though I didn't know it yet, a little mischievous behavior, would be vivifiant for body, mind, and soul, and who could have guessed the positive effect would ripple out and tickle somebody else in the process.... 

UP AND AT 'EM! (DEBOUT ET EN AVANT!)
If my daughter managed to rouse me, the drive to her brother's fired up every nerve ending in my being as I gripped the handle above the passenger door. "Jackie, slow down! Don't follow so close to the other cars! DID YOU SEE THE PEDESTRIAN???"

Speaking of pedestrian, between beginning today's story and procrastinating its development, I came across the word "pedestrian" and was amused by its various meanings:

1) lacking wit or imagination
2) walking

Isn't it interesting how the very act of walking stirs creative intelligence? Perhaps this explains how, after marching from the car to Max's condominium and up 4 flights of stairs, a creative urge came over me. The urge to play a practical joke on my son. Normally void of ideas for these kinds of bêtises, my mind was now reeling with ideas.

A look around Max’s home revealed he’s been struggling to keep up with le ménage ever since he began his new job two months ago. On top of domestic challenges, he's been exhausted from keeping on top of a new job. A little prank might perk him up.

"Jackie!" I giggled. "Do you know what a practical joke is?"

"No..."

"I'll show you... Let's turn everything in Max's fridge upside down! Here..." I said, opening the door, “Start with the condiments..." While Jackie upended the ketchup, mayo, and pickles, I grabbed a bowl. "Let's put the jar of cornichons here in case it leaks. We just want to have fun--not flood his apartment," I said, bummed that we couldn’t turn over the bottles of beer because of their narrow tops.

As Jackie turned her attention to the shelves, putting everything the wrong way up, I carefully flipped the bowl of onions, peppers, and herbs on the counter, and then made my way over to the spices. Les épices were lined up neatly at the back of la table de cuisson, but not for long...

After we'd somersaulted everything in the frigo and around the stove, I headed to Max’s room when Jackie suggested we stop here. Elle avait raison. We'd made our mischievous mark, besides, there'd be more occasions in which to mess with Max. Especially after he retaliated--no doubt he would!

CHUT NE DIS RIEN!
With a pat on the back we left Izzy the Beagle, swearing her to secrecy: Chut! Ne dis rien! "Now Izzy, don't tell Max what you saw!" With that, we returned home for dinner.... and waited for a call from Max, eager to know his reaction. 

Finally, when the call came, our victim didn't mention anything amiss.

"Where are you?" Jackie quizzed.

"I'm in the basement, organizing some things."
"Oh, anything else new?"
"No," Max replied with a yawn. Jackie and I were feeling let down until an afterthought from Max stirred us again:  "By the way, did you turn over that bowl on my countertop?"

"No..." Jackie responded. Giving me a thumbs up as she spoke into the receiver. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Bon," Max said, sounding bored. "I've gotta finish up here. Talk to you later." We were sure we'd get a call back, but the night wore on, and not a word from Max.

Meantime, I began to doubt our farce. Was it not clever? But then, a brilliant practical joke isn't about cleverness--its appeal lies in timing. Was this bad timing?

The next day I nearly bypassed the morning prayer to open text messages first thing. The little devil in me was desperate to know if Max had discovered the full extent of our friendly trespass. Surely by now he would have seen the contents of his frigo mis à l'envers.

Still no word from him, I tried to be coy with my message. "Hey, Son. Do you know the term "topsy turvy?"

(No response.)

"Things feeling a little upside down over there?" I persisted.

Finally, my phone chimed! "I saw your joke" the text read. My son's deadpan response killed it -- that wonderful creative buzz born of a pedestrian effort.
"But Max," I despaired, "didn't you think it was funny?" 

"Sure."

Sure? 

"He's just tired," Jackie remarked when I couldn't let go--until finally I did.

I let go of the fish. In French un poisson is synonymous with "practical joke" or farce. But it may as well be synonymous with "the outcome of things".  It reminds me of the would-be thrill and adventure of writing: the reward, it turns out, lies not in the untouchable outcome but in the golden nuggets we gather along the way. This story (and the fun and games behind it) was born of one child's wisdom and the other’s wisecrackery. Indeed, the old Max will be back. Once he gets the hang of his new job, he'll be back at our home, setting all kinds of traps for the family. After all, we learned these pranks from him—even more, Max has shown us time and again how les badinages and plaisanteries are a good way not to take ourselves too seriously.

Meantime, let the outcome be the uncontrollable outcome. Continue to work, love, learn, and especially to have fun. See you next week, dear reader, for another story about whatever the universe conjures up.

***

Typical of Max to shake up his professional presentation...with something unexpected! (That's the cereal he and his sister used to eat when they were little). 
You might say our son has been in the wine business ages before we had our two vineyards: At the age of 10, Max rode his bike to town to buy a bottle of wine as a gift for his dad. After consulting with the storekeeper in our little French village, the boy rode home with a Côtes du Rhône!

FRENCH VOCABULARY

Click here for Jean-Marc’s vocabulary soundfile in French & English

un canular = practical joke
j'ai la flemme = I'm feeling lazy
debout et en avant! = up and at 'em!
une bêtise = mischief, tomfoolery
cornichons = pickles
le ménage = housework
les épices  =  spices
la table de cuisson = stovetop
le frigo = fridge
elle avait raison = she was right
Chut! Ne dis rien! = hush, don’t say a word!
mis à l'envers = put upside down
un poisson = fish
le badinage = banter
la plaisanterie = joke
une farce = practical joke
une rousse = a redhead (see photo at the end of this post)

Jackie walking Izzy the pocket Beagle on the beach

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In today's story, I mention "rendre un service" (return a favor). After Max's girlfriend Ana dyed Jackie's hair, Jackie offered to walk Ana's dogs, who sometimes stay at Max's. How's that for bartering services? 

Looks great, Ana! After blond, brunette…we’ll see how long Jackie remains une rousse.

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Which is more noble: "l'equilibre"...or "la perfection"? (A Christmas Story)

There is no perfect Christmas. Not in France, not where you grew up, and not even at the North Pole. So relax and enjoy the season. Instead of a word, today's offering is a quote by French philosopher Jean Grenier:

"Il est aussi noble de tendre à l'équilibre qu'à la perfection ; car c'est une perfection que de garder l'équilibre"
"It is as noble to strive for balance as for perfection; for it is perfection to maintain balance."

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

If tradition is to put up le Sapin de Noël at the beginning of Advent, then I'm 8 days late this year. So when my son Max called, Monday, asking if I needed help, I eagerly accepted. "I'll be there in 20 minutes," said he. Good, I thought, Max can help with my least favorite part: assembling our artificial Christmas tree and carefully unfolding every metal branch.

With 20 minutes until my son's arrival, I hurried upstairs to try and do something with my hair. The last time Max dropped by I was wearing the same two-piece velvet set (a gift from Mom I've  taken off only to sleep) and my hair had not been washed in days. There is a verb for this behavior: se laisser aller: If there is one thing besides my husband that keeps me from completely letting go...it's my grown kids, especially my son.

Upstairs I tried pushing back my long, graying hair with the help of an odd pair of sunglasses from our "everything drawer". When this failed to spiff things up, I reasoned that though it was flat, it was clean! Rummaging through my trousse de toilette I found a perfume sampler, spritzed some on, and hurried down the stairs, a ribbon of Chanel No 5 in my wake. For someone who works from home this is my current definition of presentable, though it doesn’t hold a candle to my office-worker days when dressing for perfection was my whole life. (I like to think my life is more balanced now, even if that means a lot of bad hair days.)

Max still hadn't arrived so I tore open the old cardboard box and put together the Christmas tree myself. I took my time, hoping not to have to straighten all of those pesky branches alone. Forty minutes passed and still no show. Harrumph! I was almost done with the chore and beginning to feel that familiar foe: resentfulness. Looking around at all the opened storage boxes and the chaos of Christmas decorations, I grumbled: Who tossed those bulbs and lights in there like this? It's one tangled broken mess! Why am I always stuck with Christmas decorating?  Next year I'm going on a cruise—and getting far away from Christmas!

Whoah! Pausing to figure out where this grumpiness came from, I realized the morning was (so far) an all-work-no-breaks déséquilibre. Currently, at 11 am, I was caught in a tangle of ornaments and there was still laundry and lunch to prepare. The thought sent me spiraling farther down into the holiday hurricane. I knew that if my son walked through the door at that moment, he would meet the least best part of me: Mother Cranky.

I needed some ADR or Adult Time Out. I sat on our family couch, gazing at my sleeping dog. After several deep breaths and recalling all my blessings, I felt much better, ready to attack again (the tree and not my family). Just then, Max appeared with the biggest smile on his face and his signature big bear hug. "Hi Mom. Sorry I'm late. The neighbor needed help.”

"Was it the elderly couple on the ground floor of your apartment building?"

"No, it was the lady en face. She couldn't open her window. Another neighbor tells me she fell last week."

”Well, that was kind of you!” As we chatted beside the tree, I noticed how calmly Max began unraveling the rest of the tree’s branches. Next, he helped sort out all the Christmas paraphernalia into three piles: "à donner", “à garder”,  and “à jeter”. He even took the keepers outside to dust them off and set up the nativity scene, having found the santons.

We were ready to decorate the tree only the Christmas lights were nowhere to be found. “That's ok, Mom,” Max assured me.

“But the lights are the best part of the tree!” I insisted.

“Let’s keep going. We can use this string of lights, here...” Max said, rooting through the giveaway pile. With that, we carried on until the last ornaments were hung on our crooked little tree.

It wasn’t perfect with its scrawny string of lights, but our Christmas tree was sweetly ornamented. Infused with the stories we told each other as we decorated, of neighborly love, of family, and the affection and care of a son for his mother.//

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Congratulations to our son, Max, who began a new job on Wednesday as sales manager at Château La Tour de L’Evêque. 🎉🎉 Picture taken after Grandma Jules sent him shopping for a few new costumes, or suits for work.

Max, chez lui (at his place). Thanks, Grandma Jules, for the beautiful suits! May he sell lots of wine from Château La Tour de L’Evêque.

FRENCH VOCABULARY

Click here to listen to the French and English vocabulary

Le sapin de Noël = Christmas tree
se laisser  aller = to let oneself go
la trousse de toilette = makeup bag, toiletry bag 
le déséquilibre = imbalance
à donner = to give
à garder = to keep
à jeter = to toss, to throw away
le santon = traditional clay figurine from Provence
le costume = suit
en face = across the way

Congratulations to Jean-Marc and Max for finishing the Spartan Trail race in Morzine, the French Alps

Mom (a.k.a. Grandma Jules) and Ricci on a sunset walk this week.

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 I so enjoy reading about your life. --Mary B. Washington, DC.

Hi, Kristi- I’ve been reading your newsletter for years and hope you have a merry holiday season! --Mary G

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Max and Jackie trimming the Christmas tree years ago. "Croire" (to believe) is a Christmas story written when Jackie first questioned the existence of Le Père Noel. Click here to read this story from the archives.

Piquer: Guess who moved out of our house and stole away with our stuff?

Max, working from his new îlot central. After 8 months of renovation, our son is finally settled into his new appartement.  

Visiting La Ciotat or a nearby town? Stop in and see us at Jean-Marc's wineshop. Call ahead and we'll set up a visit.

Today's Word: piquer
    : prick, bite, sting
    : to steal, nab, nick

Her Own Legacy by Debra Borchert: A Woman Fights for Her Legacy as the French Revolution Erupts. Available in paperback or read it on Kindle


FRENCH SOUND FILE: Click the following link to hear Jean-Marc pronounce piquer +hear all of the French words in today's post. Then scroll down to the vocabulary section to check your French comprehension.

Click here for the audio file

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE...by Kristi Espinasse
Lunch Chez Max

Mom and I were driving to Max's new digs when I cautionned my passenger for the nième time to Hang on! 

But what is there to hang on to when you are seated with a cactus? We had just bought the prickly housewarming gift at la pépinière's, only to discover it was too tall to fit into the back of our jeep. That left the passenger seat....

As the tires eased over another nid-de-poule in the road, Jules shielded herself with a flimsy towel, using it as a barrier between her and the spiky cadeau which was set on the floorboard and stood level with Mom's shoulders. By the time we arrived at Max's condo complex, both driver and passenger were already worn out from the gift-buying adventure. Only now there were four flights of stairs to climb (pas d'ascenseur), to make it to Max's pad.

Introducting FLOF = "Free Lunch on Friday"...
We are so proud of Max for the way he planned and orchestrated the renovation of his appart (make that "condo" in English,  because even if apartments and condos look similar in France, in some cultures you don't buy an apartment--you rent one). Max called on friends and family for all works associated with his condo and managed this bighearted team on his own. Max and Uncle Jacques demolished walls and Jacques put in the dry wall, Aunt Cécile did the woodwork, architect friend Zoë drew up a floorplan, pal Clément installed the electricity, best friend Yann, his brother, and father put in the floortiles, Anaïs added many loving final touches and Jean-Marc and I did various errands and a lot of cooking! In the 8 months it took Max et compagnie to renovate his apartment, and while he continued to live here at home--nourri, logé, blanchi--I often hinted that it would be nice to eat chez lui one day. "We can call it FLOF! Free Lunch on Fridays!" Thus, FLOF was born and here we were, about to enjoy a meal--our first FLOF--chez Max! 

But, as guests...what to buy for someone who has everything? Let me tell you a little bit about how that happened. First, do you know the verb in French for "swipe" or "steal"? It's "piquer"! Here are some examples/funny synonyms of piquer--as well as a list of missing items from our family home:

Max a piqué le canapé... he nabbed the couch

il a piqué le gel douche... he pinched the shower gel 

il a piqué la lessive... he pilfered the laundry detergent

il a piqué le miroir... he lifted the mirror

il a piqué la table de nuit... he swiped the nightstand

il a piqué le repose-pied ... he stole the foot rest

il a piqué trois tabourets de la cave de Jean-Marc... he took three bar stools from Jean-Marc's wineshop

il a piqué la planche à découper...and he ran off with the cutting board!

(He yanked that last item right out from beneath the veggies I was about to chop! And, as usual, he offered a grinning and irresistable explanation: he's taken these items in the name of sentimentality. He grew up with a lot of this stuff--and would like it to live on chez lui. Blame it on la nostalgie!) As for the shower gel and clothes soap, his sister stole it back. (Go, Jackie!) I'd like Aunt Cécile's cutting board returned, but it does look good in Max's kitchen and who can resist that devilish grin, that twinkle in his eyes that says: it's mine now. 

Despite all that our son looted, I still got him an early crémaillière present. So, you might ask, what does one offer someone who steals? (Quelqu'un qui pique?)

Something piquant, of course!

And so, dear reader, we got him a cactus.

***

The cactus gives a touch of Max's southwest American roots.


While saving for a dining room table, Max is using this foldout card table (also snatched from our place...). He got the bistro chairs free, too, from our friend Fabrice, at Le Vin Sobre Marseilles, who was clearing out his own wine shop. The chess board was a gift from grand-mère Michèle-France, years ago. Max's cork bar stools (you can barely see one there at the kitchen island) are are available here. The bar stool reminds us of a champage cork and the wire cage surrounding it. 

***
Related Stories from the Blog Archives:
Mortgage is a Creepy Word... (Max looks to buy an appartement
Nid-de-Poule - insight into one of our vocab words via a story Max wrote when he was in high school
Cécile's work - a story about my belle-soeur

FRENCH VOCABULARY
un îlot central (de cuisine) = kitchen island
un appartement = condo
piquer = pinch, nab, nick, steal
nième = umpteenth
la pépinière = the garden center, nursery
le nid-de-poule = pothhole
le cadeau = present
nourri, logé, blanchi = "fed, housed, laundered", the term is often used in a humorous, sarcastic sense
Max a piqué le canapé = he nabbed the couch
il a piqué le gel douche = he pinched the shower gel
il a piqué la lessive = he pilftered the laundry detergent
il a piqué le miroir = he lifted the mirrorµ
il a piqué la table de nuit = he swiped the nightstand
il a piqué le repose-pied = he stole the foot rest
il a piqué trois tabourets de la cave de Jean-Marc = he took three bar stools from Jean-Marc's wineshop
il a piquer la planche à découper...and he took off with the cutting board
la crémaillère = housewarming party
piquant(e) = prickly

Max and his grand-mère, Jules


Feathers and clouds... 

Jean-Marc enjoying Max's pasta. Max also made a delicious green salad and served Magnum ice cream chocolate pops for dessert.

Slang in French for "to have a bite to eat" & La Loco (a delicious Italian restaurant in Cassis)

A sympathique place to eat in Cassis. That's Max's pal, Antoine, and a couple of furry customers trying to get into "La Loco"--an Italian Restaurant facing the train station 1.9 miles above the Cassidian Port.

FRENCH EXPRESSION: “casser la dalle”

    : to have a bite to eat (slang)

SOUND FILE: Click the link to hear Jean-Marc pronounce the French words in today's post. Then scroll down to the vocabulary section to check your French comprehension.

Click here to access the sound file

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

"Casser La Dalle à Cassis"

"J'adore cette route!" my son, Max says as we zoom up and down the backroads of Cassis in our electric, blue bagnole. On our right a tiny vineyard cradled in a slope, looking left, a chalky white cottage perched above the road.

Windows down, inhaling a pine-scented breeze, it’s refreshing to break free from restrictive planning (moments ago I had been trying to figure out how to divide yesterday's salmon miettes with my son who unexpectedly returned home for lunch. And now here we were, immersed in the Cassidian countryside, after Max suggested we eat out.

A call rang in via the car's bluetooth connection and with it a stream of argot tickled my ears as I listened to Max and Yann's conversation (selected phrases follow):

"Ça va, Gâtée?" How’s it going, Bro*? (Max responding to his close friend).
“Je suis avec ma mère, on va casser la dalle à Cassis.” I'm with my mom, we're going to get a bite to eat in Cassis.
“T’es toujours à ton taf?” Are you still at work?
"Oui, on vote cet aprèm. Tu vas voter blanc?" Yes, we're voting this afternoon. Are you turning in a blank ballot?

Gâtée, casser la dalle, taf...I burned that slang into my memory as we fired up the hill and the train station came into view. And there, tucked into the south side of the street behind the hedges, was the eatery. “It's called ‘La Loco’,” Max explained, “after ‘locomotive’." Well, choo! choo! that made sense. Less clear was why the name of the restaurant was nowhere to be seen. Hmm. A secret-private insider address?

To be sure, La Loco had a lot of locals. Not a foreign accent to be heard and at least three of the diners had a dog.
"Salut Zoé! Salut Antoine!" We kissed Max's friends, working there, and met "Francesco" (François) the owner and chef, before settling at a table beneath un arbre on the sunny terrace. The plane tree's leaves were just coming out, but the thick trunk and branches were enough to shade us from the midday soleil.

A solo diner arrived. Antoine showed Mademoiselle to the table behind us. "You can sit by Jean-Luc. Il est beau, n'est-ce pas?" A middle-aged Jean-Luc flashed a toothy smile before returning to nurse his beer, and the young woman with the green nail polish, Doc Martins, tattoos on her neck, graciously accepted the seat, which meant the two strangers would dine face to face after the awkward introduction. I was already feeling anxious for them when, in reality the two characters managed just fine, without my own awkward projections and assumptions. Oh, to feel that free! I need to get out more. 

"Salut!" Max shouted to a friend who walked in. We now chatted with Luca, who'd just finished "son taf." Taf! That’s the third time in one week this unfamiliar word came up. I wonder how many other words fly in and out of my ears, never to be registered. 

We paused to study the ardoise as Antoine went over the menu. Max recommended the Macaronnade: giant rings of pasta with meatballs made with fennel seeds, and Antoine suggested we share les blettes anchoïade —a swiss chard-anchovy-mozzarrela entree. What sounded un peu dégeu turned out to be délicieux. Max and I took turns soaking up the anchovy sauce, with some crispy baguette, until the plate was dry.

In the interlude between le plat and le dessert (a delicious tarte tatin) we soaked in more rays.“What do you call someone with no body and no nose?” My son challenged.
“Um, uh...I give up.”
“Nobody knows!”

With that Max cracked up as only a francophone who understood English could (later, when I shared the corny joke with Grandma Jules, who got a kick out of it too. And you?)

Luca (not to be confused with toothy Jean-Luc) reappeared and we realized he'd been missing a while. "La plonge? Did they have you doing dishes," Max guessed.
"Every time," Luca laughed, raising his beer, before heading to Jean-Luc's table to pour some into his cup. 

This time Max disappeared behind the bar, returning with two grand crèmes. “I made a heart for you,” he said, pointing to the design in my coffee. Appetite satisfied, my cup full, the sun stretching its rays down on us, we were a long way from those cold, indivisible leftovers in our frigo. In two hours my world went from calculated and reduced...to expanded like the open heart floating in my cup.

Just when it seemed things couldn't get any better, I reached into my purse to pay. “Ça y est. C'est fait. It’s all taken care of,” my son smiled, having treated me to lunch.

  ***  

Anoine, Max, and Jean-Luc (who also disappeared from his table...to lend a hand drying glasses). 

I hope you enjoyed today's tasty entry. Be sure to eat at La Loco if ever you are in Cassis. You won't have to fight for parking (as you do by the port) and you'll surely find good company in which to casser la dalle. Be ready to help with the dishes :-)

Address: La Loco, 29 Av. des Albizzi, Cassis (right across from the Cassis train station)

FRENCH VOCABULARY
casser la dalle = to have a bite eat
une route = road
une bagnole = slang for “car”
une miette = crumbs, scraps, leftovers
l'argot = slang
*ma gâtée = term of endearment, "bro", "dear" (not easy to translate...) This expression is now back in vogue after a certain rapper popularized it. 
un taf = job, work(slang)
l’aprèm = short for l’après-midi, afternoon
le vote blanc = blank vote, blank ballot paper
un arbre = tree
le soleil = sun
un casque = helmet 
salut = hi
l'ardoise = blackboard, menu
la blette = Swiss chard 
un peu dégeu (déguelasse) = a little disgusting 
la tarte tatin = upside down apple pie 
la plonge = wash dishes
un grand crème (un café crème) = coffee with milk
le frigo = fridge
Ça y est. C’est fait = it’s been taken care of

Max, bringing the café crème he made for me 


Seated beside the beautiful plane tree. Max posted this photo on his Instagram, which explains the "Mom" and heart emoji on the tree.

Do you have time for one more story? "Cuellir", written in Les Arcs-sur-Argens when Max was  10-years-old, is a small window into our family life at that time. Though it paints the story of an organized, harmonious "team", we are most often trying to find that elusive balance et c'est la vie.

Update on Max + Mortgage is a creepy word! Use this French expression instead! + bien immobilier, hypothéque, piaule, licitation judiciaire

The colorful port de plaisance in La Ciotat. Apartment sales in our town are exploding at the moment.

THE FRENCH WORD FOR MORTGAGE?
Did you ever stop to think about the word "mortgage"? The first four letters are a clue-in: "mort" in French means death and gage = pledge. Mortgage = death pledge. If the term is too creepy for you, then use one of these when in France:

- un emprunt immobilier = real estate loan
- un prêt immobilier = real estate loan
-un prêt hypothécaire and une hypothéque (when you mortgage part of your home for cash)

AUDIO/SOUND FILE in French and English
Listen to Jean-Marc pronounce all of the French words in today's story (see French Vocabulary section, below)

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

From our kitchen where I am quietly making lunch, I enjoy seeing our son work at the dining table. His laptop is open and he is on the phone with clients. Depending on which language he is speaking—French, English, or Spanish—I can guess which country he is calling. (I know I'm bragging. I am so proud of him!)

Though Max lives in Aix-en-Provence, he sometimes works here in La Ciotat on Fridays. Having gone into the wine business after graduating from Montpellier Business School, he’s making waves like his father in the wine world (whoops! I’ve gotten the “waves” idiom all wrong! But we’re sticking with it as the next sentence depends on it...). Speaking of les vagues, they’re one of the reasons Max is here on weekends: after work, he grabs his kitesurf and off he flies, to the nearest plage (he loves Almanarre beach on the Presqu'île de Giens, near Hyères).

Un Chez-Soi (A Place of One’s Own)
No surfing today though. Max needs to figure out where he will live after his lease expires in June. He’d like to buy a place instead of spending part of his paycheck on rent, and after meeting with a loan officer he is aware of his limited budget. So today, we are visiting an apartment in le centre ville de La Ciotat…. Only, by the end of the tour I’ll have a few tips for Max!

The split-level apartment is deep in the old town, along une rue piétonne. He’ll have to park a ways away if he moves here. Before we ring the sonnette, Max points to the end of the street where we see the sparkling sea and even the boats on the old port de plaisance. “Ah, and there’s the Irish Pub!” he smiles.

Pas d’ascenseur (No elevator)
We meet the owner at the giant wooden door leading into le bien immobilier. After climbing three flights of stairs, we arrive at a narrow landing on le deuxième étage and enter into the duplex. The stairs immediately to our left lead up to a small loft. Straight ahead, the main room/living area has a kitchenette along one wall. At the end of the counter, there’s the entrance to the tiny bathroom, opposite the fridge. Everything is nickel--super clean and tidy--which helps us to see big in a small space. The window on the facing wall looks onto the building across the street, right into the neighbor’s place.

Astuce no 1: Don’t let the owner know you don’t like his taste
“I’d change the paint right away,” Max admits as we head up the narrow escaliers to the loft. “This blue reminds me of my bedroom when I was a kid.” (Such a comment might’ve been ok were he talking to the agent immobilier, and not the propriétaire who politely showed us around his bachelors pad.)

Astuce no. 2: Don’t tell the owner how much you like the place!
Apart from his distaste for the paint, and his concern for the uneven walls, Max was full of compliments, perhaps too many.

“There’s lots of storage space! I can put my kiteboard here in this placard… and my valises in that one… Everything looks good, I won’t have to renovate (apart from the paint)...No extra expenses there...”

Up in the loft, we have to duck down in order to reach the bed (a mattress on the floor). Max pushes open the skylight and we stick our heads out and look across the rooftops all the way to the port……

Astuce no. 3: Don’t get the owner’s hopes up!
“I like it. I’ll call you next week with an offer,” Max says, as we wave goodbye to the owner. I have my doubts but keep quiet pour l’instant...

Back at home, the family weighed in with their wisdom. “Max,” I said, “with the current pandemic, you might want to find a place with a terrace or balcony, so you won’t be cooped up inside...”

Next, Grandma Jules piped up. “Buy a piece of land in the hills beyond! And get out of the city!”
“Where’s he going to sleep?” Jean-Marc laughed.
“He can get a tent!” Grandma insisted.
“Or maybe a van?” I wondered, having seen several surfer vans (with built-in kitchens/beds) in our beach town.
“I’ll put a van on the property too!” Grandma cheered.

...And don’t get Jean-Marc started, he’s been wanting a VW camper for some time!

Astuce no. 4: Don’t listen to everybody!
Meantime, with everyone now dreaming of the wide-open road, I’m reminded of one final tip or astuce: Don’t listen to too much advice when shopping for your first pad, or you might end up sleeping in a car, with the whole nutty family--avec tout ta famille de barjots!

 

FRENCH VOCABULARY

Listen to the following list of French terms
un emprunt immobilier = real estate loan
une hypothèque = mortgage, loan agreement
les vagues = waves
la plage = beach
une presqu'île = peninsula
un chez-soi = a place of one’s own
le centre ville = town center
la rue piétonne = pedestrian street
la sonnette = doorbell, buzzer
port de plaisance = marina
un ascenseur = elevator
le bien immobilier = the property
le deuxième étage = third floor (in French)
nickel = spotless
une astuce = tip, trick
le placard =closet
la valise = suitcase


REVERSE DICTIONARY
to brag = se vanter
bragging = vantardise
bachelor pad = garçonnière
un bail = lease (apartment, house…)
loan officer = responsable des prêts
duck down = se baisser
pad = appart, piaule
legal auction of property = licitation - vente judiciaire 


Max has (by now) visited 5 apartments (he found them via ads on sites like pap.fr and leboncoin.fr. Another way to find a place (apart from visiting the local real estate office) is via bank repossessions, estate sales, or "licitations". Here is a sign that appeared a few years ago on a derelict home (not far from the beach!) in La Ciotat. (The end price was two times the price listed on the sign.)   

Max and friends in 2017, before our son left for an exchange program in Mexico. (Max is the one under the sombrero)

The French verb "lancer" + A lost phone and a found skill: Max's foray into juggling

Learn and listen to this sentence in French, below: Juggling is an exercise of skill that consists in its strictest sense of throwing, catching and relaunching objects in the air. It can be a game, a sport, an art or a religious rite.

Today's Word: lancer

    : to throw, toss, launch 

Click here to listen to the following sentence in French

La jonglerie est un exercice d'adresse qui consiste dans son sens le plus strict à lancer, rattraper et relancer de manière continue des objets en l’air. Elle peut être un jeu, un sport, un art ou encore un rite religieux. --Wikipedia.fr

In video: The Juggler of Notre Dame

Pronounce it Perfectly in French

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE
by Kristi Espinasse

The other night I was treated to an impromptu juggling performance, after our son returned from Montpellier. Max is home for 3 weeks for his internship at Domaine de la Mongestine, and will return to the university every month to complete his final year of business school. Having found a short-term rental to share with his pals, Cameron and Souhail (also completing une année en alternance) the classmates are getting used to homework again after a year away from classes. And in their downtime, they have found a few ways to décompresser, or chill out (besides les boîtes de nuits!)...

 

Watching Max jongler was impressive. "Bravo! When did you learn to do that?"

 

"After mon portable went missing. Ten days without a phone...on s'ennuie!  Voilà -- I learned something new!"

Nodding my head in appreciation, I studied the juggler's equipment: All you needed were three small balls and you were in business! You could carry them in your backpack, and always have a form of entertainment handy--or a way to earn some cash for a starving student!



"Hey, by the way, where did you get those pompoms?" 

 

"They fell off the Souhail's pillow..." (aha! I guess Souhail ended up on the couch). "...so Cameron collected the pompons and began juggling. That's how I learned...by watching Cameron's technique!" 

 

"That is so cool, Max! But are you sure you all didn't help that pillow to lose a few more tassels?"

 

"Haha. We came up with a second use, too... Each night after dinner, we each tossed a pompon. Whoever made a basket did not have to do dishes!"

Gosh, now I really wanted my own set of these ever-amusing and useful pompons. I don't think any of our pillows have tassels on them, so the first trick will be to look at all the objects in our house... with fresh eyes!  Maybe some wine corks would work? We've got plenty of those!

     *    *    * 

I'll take this opportunity to remind you that Jean-Marc has opened his wine shop here in La Ciotat. It is so easy to access. Simply exit the freeway in La Ciotat, take the first right and you're there--at Le Vin Sobre wineshop If Max is in, he'll share his pompons with you. There is also a puzzle you can help finish and next time I stop in I am dropping off a guitar. And there are books! This should make the shop even cozier, so stop in and enjoy a glass of wine.


Jean-Marc, pretending to read Words in a French Life , in stock now! :-)


Are you on Instagram? More photos from day-to-day life, follow me here. 

In books: Mastering French Vocabulary and 2000 Most Common French Words in Context

FRENCH VOCABULARY

une boîte de nuit = nightclub
en alternance = work/study training program  
décompresser = relax, chill out
une boîte de nuit = nightclub, club
on s'ennuie = one gets bored

jongler = to juggle
un portable = cell phone, mobile phone

un pompon = pompom, tassel

 

In store: Set of 3 juggling balls

 

The Juggler of Notre Dame

In this contemporary version from Paulist Productions, Barnaby ekes out a bare existence juggling in the street for coins. He is broken-hearted over the death of his wife and best friend. Barnaby drifts aimlessly until he stays in a small community where he is treated kindly. As Christmas approaches, all are making special gifts for the Lord. Click here to view The Juggler of Notre Dame

Another ball game Max (second on left) loves: pétanque. Photo taken at our former vineyard, Mas des Brun. That's Jackie on the right. Wish her luck, she passes her bartending exam in Miami next week!

Combler: Satisfied or fulfilled in French (and in life)

10-year-old Smokey is happiest when he is in the presence of his pack, or "sa meute." More on happiness in today's post. (Photo taken from inside my Mom's studio)

Today's word: combler

    => to fill
    => to fulfill, satisfy
    => to fill a gap (in one's life)

une vie comblée = a fulfilled life
combler son retard = to make up for lost time
je suis comblée = I have everything I could want or wish for

Book News: Soon we will finish chapter 7 of our memoir about life on 2 vineyards and the toll it eventually took (having already tested our marriage). This next section will be posted soon and it is as raw and personal as the first 6 chapters.  Click here for more about our story. 

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE

  by Kristi Espinasse

Sunday afternoon, après l'Eglise, I was sitting on a fold-out beach chair in front of Mom's place when a thought burst through my mind: Je suis comblée!

The bright pink beach chair was a present from Mom and the joyful feeling was a gift from the here and now, or l'instant présent. In this moment there was my mom, my son, and my daughter--and there was Jean-Marc who had just walked up to see why all of us were gathered.

All this activity began with Max, who had a day off from his current internship at Château de Pibarnon. Max has been repeating the same wish for months: Je veux peindre! He backed his wish by a mission: "and Grandma needs to get back to her canvas!" Finally, he went around to the side of the house, to Jules's studio, to try and drag her out of bed. "Let's go to the art supply store!" he said.

Oh but he had to tug! He had to tickle! He had to flop! In the end he managed to get Jules up and painting again! It was around 4 in the afternoon, after my own siesta, that I stumbled onto this lively scene: two easels, two artists, a dozen tubes of oil paint and a host of creatures looking on--all Mom's doves, who live in the trees above, three little hedgehogs watching from behind a stack of logs, and dear sweet Smokey.

Jules and Max. I love to listen to them banter. They have a wonderful rapport or complicité.

Faire la bise. Jackie greets her grandmother with a kiss

Brother and sister painting with a palette knife at the chevalet, or easel

 

Soon Jackie showed up. She wanted to paint too! The former art school student began by helping her brother... until the urge to begin her own toile propelled her over to Grandma, to borrow some fournitures....

"First go and change into your old clothes!" Jules said. Just like that, illico presto!, the youngest artist donned old shorts and a t-shirt over her bathing suit and was back before you could say Prussian Blue.

 

A portable chevalet purchased in Draguignan, years ago. Happy to see it come to life again..

Circling around my family, admiring each of their paintings, I notice all three were working from the same photo of a parrot in a palm tree. How interesting to see each artist's interpretation!

Max, totally absorbed in his work, reproduced the picture using the same proportions and similar colors. Meantime, Jules's vision was grand: a bigger bird, wider palm leaves, and vivid colors!

Jackie's 'Perroquet dans le Palmier' was as delicate as lace! Using a palette knife like her brother and grandmother, her strokes were fine and detailed. 

Jackie's painting (midway through)

Max and Jules's paintings at the beginning of the session.

How the art reminded me of the artists themselves: one orderly, one generous, one delicate--all the qualities I admire in my son, in my Mom, and in my daughter....

Hélas, the painting session came to a sudden end when the mosquitos moved in! Quickly scattering, each artist hurried into the house, leaving the doves, the hedgehogs, and Smokey to admire the unfinished works. The next day, when I said good morning to our golden retriever, I noticed a splash of blue on his wagging tail. And when it came time to feed the birds in our garden, a few had crimson red nails after landing on top Mom's painting. And Jules herself had splashes of purple in her silver hair. 


FRENCH VOCABULARY

après l'Eglise = after church
je suis comblée = I am filled with happiness
l'instant présent = the here and now
je veux peindre = I want to paint
un chevalet = an easel
une toile = a canvas
les fournitures = supplies
illico presto = right away (see the  word-of-the-day post, here and lovely pics of the dogs)
le perroquet = parrot
le palmier = palm tree
peinture en plein air = outdoor painting 

Max's painting midway through

Dazed in Reims: A boxing incident lands Max in ER

The following sentence is from the French translation, just below. "Knockout (KO) is the term, in combat sports, for the action of putting out a fighter as a result of a blow carried by his adversary and making him temporarily lose his abilities (the person is called "stunned")."(photo, by Max, of his boxing ring in Reims) 

Today's word : sonné(e) 

  : stunned, dazed

Example Sentence by Wikipedia:

Le knockout (KO, de l'anglais to knock out, « faire sortir en frappant ») est le terme signifiant, dans les sports de combat, la mise hors de combat d'un combattant à la suite d'un coup porté par son adversaire et lui faisant perdre temporairement ses capacités (la personne est dite « sonnée »).

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE 

  by Kristi Espinasse 

When I was still in Denver, last week, and scrolling through Instagram, I noticed photo of my 23-year-old son. It was a picture of Max, from the knee down, on a hospital gurney. 

My first thought was, remain calm. If he's taken the photo himself then he's just fine! My second thought was, "just fine" can be a temporary state! 

Studying the social media photo I noticed an Instagram stamp identifying the name of the hospital in Reims, the town in which Max is completing an internship for Lanson. (Had he had another accident on the way to work? Jumping a guardrail, that first month, landed him at the ER for stitches.). A Google search, this time, put me one push-of-the-button closer to my son, as I hit the direct-connect number on the screen of my telephone.

It was the middle of the night in the Champagne region of France when the switchboard operator answered. "Je vais vous connecter avec les urgences," she said casually. 

Les urgences ?! My daughter, Jackie, who was with me in Denver, hurried over to the phone just as I was connected with the ER nurse, whose French was surreal to me... 

She was saying something about a box. What did a box have to do with my son being unable to talk to me on the phone? 

"Attendez," I said, you can talk to my daughter.. elle parle mieux le français."

A moment later, Jackie hung up the phone in time to assure me that Max was OK, that they were just going to keep an eye on him overnight, as well as do a brain scan.... 

By the time Jackie hung up the phone, I realized I'd missed my chance to talk to my firstborn. The nurse had said her patient was a little confused, and so had not offered me the possibility to communicate with him. Still, Max could have listened to my voice--which would have been a source of comfort and reassurance. It might have even snapped him out of this stupor! 

How good it felt to hear his voice, the next day, when newly discharged from ER he was able to tell us exactly what happened. I leave you now with Max's account, in French and in English, following a newspaper clipping about Max's great-grandfather AL Young, lightweight boxer and champion from Ogden, Utah... and hero to his French great-grandson, arrière-petit-fils, who he would never have the joy to meet. 

Max writes:

À la fin de mon entraînement de boxe, nous finissions la scéance avec un combat “light”. À la fin du round, Billal (19 ans) et moi, avons décidés de continuer à boxer au lieu de nous reposer, nous étions donc le centre d’attention des autres boxeurs.

À ce moment là, j’ai baissé ma garde et il en a profité pour me mettre un high kick jambe avant sur la mâchoire.

Je tombe par terre et mes potes me relèvent immédiatement.

À partir de ce moment là je n’ai fait que répéter les mêmes choses. “Qui m’a mis K.O?”, “où est-ce que j’habite”...

Et là, ils se sont rendu compte que quelque chose n’allais pas.

Dans la foulée, ils ont décidés de m’emmener aux urgences de Reims où j’ai été pris en charge immédiatement.

Durant ce prochain mois, je ne vais pas faire de confrontations afin de ne pas prendre de coups à la tête, je me concentrerais uniquement sur mon cardio en faisant de la course à pied et en travaillant mes techniques sur un sac de frappe.

Et quant au scanner, tout vas bien ! 

PS: je ne me souviens pas de ces événements, c’est mon coach qui me les a racontés.

ENGLISH TRANSLATION 

At the end of boxing practice, we ended the session with a "light" fight. At the end of the round, Billal (19) and I decided to continue boxing instead of resting, therefore we were the center of attention of the other boxers.

At that moment, I lowered my guard and he took the opportunity to put a high leg kick on my front jaw.

I fell to the ground and my buddies got me back up immediately.

From that moment on, I kept repeating the same things: "Who knocked me out?", "Where do I live?" ...

And there, they realized that something was wrong.

In the confusion, they decided to take me to the emergency room in Reims where I was taken care of immediately.

This next month, I will not do any contact sports in order not to get hit in the head. I will focus only on cardio training by running and practicing my technique on a punch bag.

And as for the scanner, everything is fine!

PS: I do not remember these events, it was my coach who told them to me.

(picture  below, taken 7 years ago, when Max was starting out boxing.)

Boxing practice when we lived at the vineyard in Ste. Cécile-les-Vignes

Deballer: Max unpacks after his exchange program in Mexico

Together again. A nouveau réunis. If you are new to this blog, you might enjoy the story of our Franco-American family, beginning when the kids were very young. Click here to order the book.

Chaque jour apporte ses cadeaux. Il ne vous reste qu'à les déballer.
Each day comes bearing its own gifts. Untie the ribbons. Ann Ruth Schabacker

Click here to listen to the example sentence

Today's Word: déballer

    : to unpack
    : to untie
    : to reveal

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE

    by Kristi Espinasse

It's been over a week since our 23-year-old returned from his 10-month exchange program in Léon, Mexico. Jean-Marc and I picked up Max from the Marseilles airport...with a surprise in tow: Max's best friend, Antony, was there to meet us at la sortie. (The totally unexpected encounter garnered Antony three times the hug I'd gotten, but who's counting câlins? After a week of catching up with all his vieux pots, I got my son all to myself last night. 

In our PJs, robes, and other cozy add-ons--pillows, hot-chocolate, blankets and a portable phone (what jeune homme can live without one?) we lounged on just-assembled IKEA couches in our newly-remodeled living room. Jean-Marc and I had planned the entire renovation around our son's return--the work had to be done by May 15th--or no deal!) And here we were now, enjoying an evening I had imagined many times over: just hanging out, watching a good movie.



We were actually enjoying one of Max's favorite T.V. dramas, called Peaky Blinders. He had already seen all the episodes, in Mexico, but he missed a lot of details, owing to the thick accents (Birmingham? Irish?--I don't know, I've only begun watching and I'm hooked, just as Max was!).

Max tells me the series is well into its quatrième saison. That's good news for this Mama, as there'll be dozens more opportunities to chill with my firstborn. And that's the biggest câlin I can think of.

Picture of me and Max, from the post "Unfit Mother" (Une Mère Indigne. Read it here)

FRENCH VOCABULARY
la sortie = the exit
jeune homme = young man
un vieux pot = an old pal
une quatrième saison = a 4th season
le câlin = hug


Max, left, and me, in hat, at our family picnic here at home in La Ciotat. I leave you with a picture of our new kitchen and living room!

The night after Max arrived, he and his friends--and a few of Jean-Marc's--gathered to watch the Europe League soccer finals, which, by the looks on their faces (apart from Max's) got off to a bad start for Marseilles!