I had fully intended to continue my blog streak and write yesterday and in fact had gotten as far as starting a post when my computer choked on itself and I lost what I had written. What I had written was not very interesting as I spent most of Friday laying in bed, contemplating life, and reading a detective novel.
Basically, I was living the housewife cliche, sans bon bons which I was out of. Sure, I washed the floors and did the laundry, but that paled in comparison to the sloth in which I indulged. I wish I had spent time with an actual sloth, but that is a story for another time.
Last night we attended both Happy Hour at the pool and later a going away party for some neighbors who I had met once and David had never met at all. This is what happens when you are married to an extrovert- you get invited to farewell parties for strangers.
It was at this party that I learned something very interesting about the French. When we first moved here I met a lovely couple. He is French and she is German. They are beautiful and fun and Mr. Frenchman was very tolerant when I pulled out my wee (not oui) bit of french on him.
We were standing by the pool when it began to rain. Excitedly, I turned to him and said, "Mr. Frenchman! Il pleu!" He agreed and then complimented me on my accent which I can assure you no one has ever done in my entire life. I was tickled.
"David!" I called, "Mr. Frenchman approved of my accent!"
"Mr. Frenchman is being kind." He said.
We had an unpleasant conversation about this and agreed to disagree.
Last night at the party I met another frenchman. He was young and handsome and so naturally I needed to show off my french.
"C'est dommage! Pauvre chou!" I trilled.
Reader, he said in a gorgeous french accent, "Your accent is quite good."
And that was when I knew that the french lie.
I went back to Mr. Frenchman and asked for the truth. "Well," he said, "vee are taught zat ven ahn american attampts to speek ze language, vee compliment zem for trying."
The truth was not as bitter to swallow as it might have been. As a parent I know a thing or two about humoring children, and it is often an act of kindness. If the french wish to lie to me about my accent, I will accept it with grace, wine, and a very loud, "Oui! Oui!".