Frere David? Where is David?

7 Mar

blog image eiffel tower

In an attempt to shift Karma, I am studying the French language via a patented CD method- no, not that language series but, rather, a knockoff which, for legal purposes, we’ll call Josetta Bone and for our purposes, we’ll say that “studying” means I am upright, eyes open and not a glass of wine in sight as I listen and repeat.

“Why French?” you ask.

“Duh.”  I reply.  (Or “Dui,” as they say in Marseilles.)

I was an English major who vacationed in England.

I am now a French student in need of another vacation.  “Mon Dieu!” I can hear Spouse already, “a vacation from what?”

Eh, he is a rude American who wouldn’t know a romance language if it went on strike for increased access to truffles right in front of him.

Besides, I may need to speak French should David Sedaris ever read my most recent fan letter and invite me to his pied e terre for snacks and conversation and snacks.  (I should also work on my Billie Holiday impression which, for our purposes, we’ll call “Wounded Animal Sings the Blues.”)

Look, it’s a crazy time and who knows?  Not me.

I’ll tell you what I do know and that’s how to say “I don’t know, I’m American” using the patented Hosetta Jones method.  I can also tell you that “I don’t understand, I’m American,” “Saint Jack Street is over there.  Saint Jack Street is not here, I’m American” and “Waiter!  Can I get a large Coke?”  (The “I’m American” is silent.  But understood.)

I can also direct you to Saint Michele Boulevard, as long as it is on my immediate right, and then fall deeply asleep in front of the wood stove without spilling wine or learning how to navigate the Metro.

Oh well- I’m sure that Mr. Sedaris will provide proper directions anyway.

Using the proven Sand NcMally mapping system.

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