French, Turds, Frogs and Foreheads (it’s not what you think)

Yesterday I got to do something I had been waiting my entire life for.

I answered the phone and a very nice lady was asking for someone in French. I replied in English that I thought she dialed the wrong number. She said something else in French and I again told her in English that she had the wrong number. She then tried saying something else, and I gathered myself together and, in perfect French, said, “Je ne parlez pas Francais.” (I do not speak French).

**sound of French crickets in the background**

This of course led to a great number of French words from the lady on the other end of the phone. Apparently the fact that I told her that I do not speak French while actually speaking French threw her for a bit of a loop (perhaps she was accusing me of lying?).

Fortunately the word NO is the same in French and English, so I just kept saying NO until she gave up. I giggled all the rest of the day.

Finally, something from my school days that I could actually apply in real life!! Ask me how often I have used my mimeographing skills, or the geometry I struggled through, or my ability to quote Freud, or how often I have ever jotted down notes in shorthand. A heck of a lot less than I have whipped out my French, let me tell you.

I took two French classes in school; my first one was in the eighth grade. Our French teacher was a very proper and beautiful real live 100% Frenchwoman. From Paris. On our first day of class she taught us all the swear words she knew. We thought she was wonderful. My second French class was as a senior in high school. I can still remember a few phrases, like: My name is Heather. It is eight o’clock (I can say any time up to ten; I can’t remember how to say eleven or twelve.) I am a yellow pencil. (I can’t remember how to say I have, but you never know when saying I am might come in handy.)

**********************************************************

While writing this post, my sister sent me an email about her day today. She doesn’t think that she has any writing skills; I beg to differ. Here is what happened, in her own words (please note that Miss Muffin is a lovely young Rag Doll cat):

You missed 2 rodeos this morning. First one, Miss Muffin apparently had some sort of lady's room issues and found herself with icky sumpin sumpins stuck to her behind. To rid her pretty self of them, she scooted all over the wash room, (guess which room I'll be mopping when it cools off), then dropped 3 turds on the red rug. I didn't see them and managed to step on one of them. Went on a turd hunt and found the other 2. She still had one hanging off her hiney, so I caught her and attempted to remove it with a paper towel. She escaped, with the paper towel still stuck to her and she freaked out! Chased her all over the house, finally got her and held her on her side while snipping off the offending towel and turd with the other! She then retired to the love seat and proceeded to give her self a bath and rearrange her nether regions.

Rodeo number 2, I was minding my own business, watering my front yard flower pots and porch - trying to put the last adventure behind me, er so to speak, when a froggie jumped out of the plant I was watering, landed on my watering can then jumping onto my forehead and then to some other plant behind me. I don't know which one because I was busy screaming and pouring all the rest of the water out of my watering can all over the porch and myself. It cooled me off anyway... See what you're missing?

Couldn’t have written that better myself. Please excuse me, as I now have to go clean up all the root beer I spit everywhere.

TTFN.