Today's word is sponsored by Rent Robin's Paris Apartment!

    : little job

C'était quoi votre premier petit boulot?
What was your first job?

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

I sometimes wonder what my children's occupations would be, had we lived, instead, aux États-Unis.*

Would my daughter be a paper boy (the little mêtier* that brought me so much joy)? Would my son bus tables for a $1.81 an hour? I'll never forget the greasy stench on my clothes, how I couldn't wait to return home and shower.

At nine I delivered the news, and at 14 I refilled coffee cups, self-esteem buoyed by all those thank-yous! I liked being in contact with people and I know my kids will enjoy the same.


Meantime, we live on a farm... and work with grapes... and a few olives.... That makes my 14-year-old a seasonal vigneron* and an occasional olive catcher:

Max, searching for olives.

The pros of olive-catching include a clean-air environment (no breathing in exhaust fumes when standing on a street corner, pitching the Sunday news)...

And the occasional offer to aider* ...as when an uncle shows up, unexpectedly, with a helpful hand or two.

Both jobs are made sufferable by grateful remerciements* which, had we lived... after all... in the Etats Unis, would still equal a simple thank you.

"Uncle Jacques" 

I'm curious to know: What was your first job? Please put your answer in the comments box -- for all to enjoy!

Corrections
...are most welcome! Please check the blog first, in case I have already updated it with changes!

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Provence Dreamin? Maison des Pelerins, Sablet. A Vacation Rental Dream in the heart of the Cote du Rhone.

***

Exercises in French Phonics, bestseller by Francis W. Nachtman, on French pronunciation and how to pronouce French words correctly!

Mille Bornes (Card Game).
First published in 1962, Mille Bornes (pronounced "meel born," French for "milestones") is an auto racing card game whose object, for each team of two players, is to be the first to complete a series of 1,000-mile trips.

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I could not get our puppy to pose in front of the keys... let alone say "cheese"....

I take that back... Smokey was a very good poser.
T'was the camera lens that lacked the poetry of Chaucer...

As for "how's Smokey doing?": he has two worrisome wounds that continue to fill up and empty out. He is still on antibiotics and we are keeping him clean with hydrogen peroxide or eau oxygenée.... and his mama, Braise, regularly washes his wounds with her tongue. I am wondering whether this is just reinfecting things?)

Cinema Verite
(excerpt from the Saturday edition with 12 favorite photos from Morocco):

I would like to return to Morocco as an invisible woman -- invisible blond hair, invisible white skin. In this way I might finally capture the natives, a ghostly photographer chasing Whim.

I couldn't wait to see these and I must say that I am hooked on your style of photography. These are like looking through a National Geographic magazine only something deeper is captured through your eye. The vendors, the daughter in Blue and or course every picture by the sea - all are simply alluring. --Karen

Here in France, my doctor says, we have a surplus of the H1N1 vaccine. In America, I tell her, even our president is waiting in line for it.

French Word of the Day sponsored by Yabla and...

Les portes tordues (The Twisted Doors): The Scariest Way in the World to Learn and Listen to French! Check it out (if you dare).

objectif (owb-jek-teef) noun, masculine

    1. lens (of camera)  2. objective, target
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Audio File & Example Sentence: Download Wav or Download Objectif

Ils étaient à l'aise face à l'objectif.
They were at ease in front of the (camera's) lens.

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

I don't go anywhere anymore without my camera. It hangs on my person like an oxygen mask. Just like missing a breath, I am afraid I will miss life if I am not able to capture it in digits and indulge in its dramatic detail bit by bit.

Pixel by pixel, I love to indulge in architecture and nature, but I am most passionate about the lines and the landscape of humans, strangers...

Cela dit,* I rarely photograph l'homme* because in the time it would take to ask permission -- the stranger's spirit escapes when natural expression gives way to "do I look okay?"

I called Mama Jules in Mexico to tell her about my photo periple* through Morocco:
I said, "A man shouted at me, 'No! No! No!' " 

Mom explained, from experience, that Moroccans do not like to have their picture taken:

"...for as I learned while living in France back in 1997 - Moroccans do not like to be photographed! I was lounging on my favorite bar stool one night in my hangout in the Moroccan part of your village of St. Maximin... I was 51-years-old and liked to celebrate each day with "Pastis 51". I always walked around the village with my camera hanging around my neck, but one night I made the mistake of lifting the camera up in this bar (the interior was all black and white, hundreds of great photos on the walls) very chic, the owner was from Paris and he and his wife were absolutely beautiful and very sophisticated. When the flash from my camera exploded in this little bar -- everyone dropped for cover under the tables and to the floor! That's when I began to learn the difference between my life and theirs...."

Next, Mom told me a story about the Native Americans from my native Arizona:

...it has been said that American Indians feel that the lens steals their âme*....

I had wondered about that gut-feeling I got back in Morocco; indeed, each time I lifted my camera, it felt as though I were lifting a weapon: not a stone or a bow and arrow: but a "soul-snatcher" capable of wounding... like a rock to a sparrow.

Comments are the best part of French Word-A-Day! Mom and I read each and every comment... and Dad checks in to see where you all are writing in from (so please list your city next to your name :-)

cela dit = that said; l'homme (m) = man; le périple (m) = journey, voyage; une âme (f) = soul; la droguerie (f) = hardware store; un objectif (m) = camera lens

Le Creuset Enameled Cast Iron 2 Quart Moroccan Tagine:
Though I brought back a traditional terracotta tagine (one requiring coals...), I already have my eyes fixed on this modern version (which works with any stove top!). Santa Claus, are you listening? 

Cooking at the Kasbah: Recipes from My Moroccan Kitchen:
Moroccan food features the delicious flavors and health benefits of other Mediterranean cuisines...

Un, Deux, Trois: First French Rhymes:
...a collection of 25 traditional nursery rhymes for children

French Exambusters Study Cards:
Over 1500 questions and answers written by certified teachers and professional translators with a focus on exam preparation.

How to say "tailspin" in French?....

"La Chasse Queue" (The Tail Chase) : Smokey's new favorite thing to do (with all that energy he's been building up since the attack) is to chase his own tail (missing, I'm afraid, from this photo -- it was hard to keep my camera's lens focused while laughing at my puppy's aerial antics... all that jumping and spinning!). To the right of his broken face, you'll see his healing cheek. He reminds me of Al Pacino in Scarface. Maybe it's the cheekbone (one is much higher than the other now. Perhaps it is just the swelling?).

Still in the mood to read? Check out Eliane's delightful message over at the Sullivan's blog (her words are in French and English -- an excellent way for us to grow our French!).

Spread  Your  Word!
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French Word of the Day:

le haut-le-coeur (oh-leuh-ker) noun, masculine

   : (avoir un haut-le-coeur) = to retch, to heave

"Haut-le-coeur" means, literally, "high heart"... and isn't that a prettier image than the word's "repulsive" meaning... one relating to a feeling of nausea that comes from foul food preparation, motion-sickness, pregnancy, and more....

Audio File & Example Sentence:
...had a bit of difficulty pronouncing at least one of these words... listen, at your own risk: Download Wav or Download MP3

À force de tergiverser et d'avoir des haut-le-cœur à chaque soubresaut, nous regardons les trains passés en Afrique. After a lot of shilly-shallying and after the nausea following each jolt, we watched the trains pass in Africa. -from Le Figaro

A Day in a M O R O C C A N Life...
by Kristin Espinasse

By the last day of our Moroccan (mis)adventure, our family of 7 was almost recovered from what the natives deemed "soft-stomach syndrome". But were our unaccustomed appetites really to blame? Could the finger fairly be pointed at our "fussy" French foies*?

Non! my husband argues, it was hotel hygiene! My sister-in-law, ever diplomatic, chalked it off to a bad case of gastro. As for me, I wonder if all those freshly-fished huîtres* and clams... might've caused our stomaches' sensational grand slam?

Then again, the signs in our hotel room bathroom read: "FORBIDDEN TO DRINK THE WATER." I wondered if that meant that we couldn't so much as wet our toothbrushes with it either? As a security precaution, I poured a bit of bottled water over my brosse à dents* (never mind that the last several brushings were with the woeful water).

While blue-faced in bed, I passed the time wondering about the origin of our collective stomach upset. After so much surmising, I eventually became bored the guessing games -- and decided to delete all of the seafood  and coquillages*-related photos from my camera... which brought some relief. Next, to keep my mind off misery, I turned my attention to words which, as always, lifted my spirits. Coming up with a title to today's story amused me to no end:

Shopping:

Paris Quiz: How Well Do You Know Paris?
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Caudalie Lip Conditioner :
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Paris Je T'aime :
Film for Francophiles: "Paris I love You"

Exercises in French Phonics
...bestseller on French pronunciation and how to pronouce French words correctly!

"Les Retrouvailles" (homecoming). Click to enlarge this jubilant image! Our dogs returned, supercharged and satisfied, from "Camp Sully" in Vaison-La-Romaine. Witness here Smokey and Chef Grape... and their joyful reunion! Mille mercis to Mark and Ellen for taking such good care of Smokey and Braise!

                                                          

(Note: the following story was written two years ago.)

Madame Delhome's floors are so clean you could lick flan off of them. As I tiptoe over to our neighbor's sofa, I shudder to think about my own floors until my mother's wisdom comes back to comfort me, "Don't worry about the dust, honey, people feel better about their own homes when they walk into yours."

While that is some comfort, I don't want Madame Delhome to feel bad about how her flan-lickable floors make me feel (messy), so I won't share any nuggets of wisdom with her this early on in our friendship. Instead, I'll take off my shoes.

I ask the kids to take off their go-dass,* too, before three of us wrestle Braise back out onto the front porch. (Moments earlier, when we left for cocktails at the neighbor's, our dog fancied a swim in the stream and a "dry off" in the powdery earth, the same powdery earth, I realize, that seems to be stuck
to the kids' socks!)

Barefooted, the kids and I finally sit down on madame's rustic style leather sofa while monsieur and madame settle into the matching wood-trimmed chairs. Jean-Marc is seated next to madame. I make narrow eyes at the kids, reminding them of their manners before each of us accepts a slice of olive cake from a blue earthenware plate.

The cake aux olives* is rich with cubes of gruyère cheese and bits of ripe red tomato beneath its golden crust. The snack is heavenly good but when madame offers to give me the recipe I tell her, "Please, don't trouble yourself." What I really want to say is "By all means! Write it down carefully and don't miss even one ingredient!"

Remembering my dream of having a vegetable garden, I turn to Monsieur Delhome.
"I saw a man down by the stream working in a potager,"* I say, knowing all the while that the garden-in-question belongs to Monsieur Delhome.

"That would be Monsieur Blanc," Monsieur Delhome, points out. "I let him work on that parcel as he loves to garden!" That "parcel" is right next to a parcel of our own and I think about how easy it would be for Monsieur Blanc, who loves to garden, to expand his project south...then we all could enjoy the fruits of his labor!

"I have always wanted a vegetable garden!" I hint. "Do you know of anyone...who might like to, uh, borrow a bit of our land for tending?" I notice that Monsieur Delhome looks confused and so I repeat my indirect wish. "It would be nice to know someone who enjoys gardening...".

"What exactly do you want, Madame Espinasse?" Monsieur Delhome demanded, putting an abrupt stop to any vagaries. Just then I felt an olive stick in my throat.
"Are you asking me to send Monsieur Blanc over to work your field?"
"No," I protested, embarrassed. Though I wanted exactly that.

The directness that Monsieur Delhome was asking for reminded me of another of my mom's nuggets of sagesse:* ask and you shall receive (but be clear about what you need and don't beat around the bush!). Still, words do not come easy and we leave the Delhome's with my worrying about the flaky impression that I have made.

A few weeks later Monsieur and Madame Delhome stop by for a visit and present me with a beautifully illustrated book on gardening. Inside, there is a handwritten note including warm words of encouragement. I point to the book's cover where an elaborate arch of roses shades a grassy path leading to a beautiful vegetable garden--one prettier than I have ever imagined.

"What exactly are you implying, Monsieur Delhome?" I say, practicing Monsieur's direct approach along with some newfound initiative. "Do you think that I could make a garden as pretty as this?"
"Pourquoi pas?"* monsieur questioned, looking me directly in the eyes.

As for the Delhome's, they seem to have a little more faith in their new neighbor's abilities than she herself has.

My family and I love to read your feedback. Comments welcome -- click here. You might honor my Dad's request, by listing your city (and Mom would be delighted if you would add a few words about the weather...)

go-dass (pronunciation for (la) godasse) = (slang for) shoes; le cake (m) aux olives = olive cake; le potager (m) = kitchen garden; la sagesse (f) = wisdom; pourquoi pas = why not?

Madame Delhome's Cake aux Olives:
  (update: I seem to remember that the recipe that Madame jotted down for me was without tomatoes... as in the story... and with ham)

--150 g. olives noires et vertes denoyautées
(about 5 oz of black and green olives, pitted)
--250 g. jambon (8 or 9 oz of ham)
--4 oeufs (4 eggs)
--150 g. comte (approximately 5 oz) of comte (or gruyere)
--150 g. farine (roughly 5 oz) of flour
--4 c.s.* huile d'olive (4 soup spoons of olive oil)
--15 cl. lait (something like 5 oz of milk)
--1 sachet levure chimique. sel. poivre. (I packet of baking powder. salt and pepper to taste.)

I have not made this cake so please don't throw eggs at me if the above calculations don't pan out! With that cautionary note in mind, I'll try to translate the recipe's instructions...

--Scald (or "ebouillantez"--and what a verb!) the olives and cut them in two. Cut the ham and cheese in cubes. Preheat the oven to 350F.
--In a mixing bowl ("une jatte"), place flour, baking powder, salt and pepper. Make a "well" ("un puit") with the dry ingredients, in which to add the following: beaten eggs and milk. Mix well.
--Add oil, olives, ham and cheese. Mix again.
--Pour mixture into an oiled pan. Cook one hour and fifteen minutes (approximately).
--Bon Appétit!


Terms & Expressions:
  jouer franc jeu = to play fair
  le franc-parler = plain-spoken
  avoir les coudées franches = to have elbow-room
  la boutique franche = duty-free shop

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Provence Dreamin? Maison des Pelerins, Sablet. A Vacation Rental Dream in the heart of the Cote du Rhone.

Les portes tordues (The Twisted Doors): The Scariest Way in the World to Learn and Listen to French! Check it out (if you dare).

Sponsor an edition of French Word-A-Day. Contact Kristin!

In Gifts and more...

Exercises in French Phonics, bestseller by Francis W. Nachtman, on French pronunciation and how to pronouce French words correctly!

Mille Bornes (Card Game).
First published in 1962, Mille Bornes (pronounced "meel born," French for "milestones") is an auto racing card game whose object, for each team of two players, is to be the first to complete a series of 1,000-mile trips.

Paris Metro Subway Tea or Kitchen Dish Towel

Kitchen Gardens of France - be inspired!
Your House, Your Garden: A Foolproof Approach to Garden Design
French Before You Know It Deluxe. Enhance your speaking ability with Pronunciation Practice.
"Four Queens: The Provencal Sisters Who Ruled Europe"
Fallot Dijon Herbed Mustards - Set of 4 French Mustards

Braise & Smokey's Excellent Adventure. While the kids, the husband, the mother-, brother-, sister-in-law and I visit Morocco (a trip two years in the making!) the rest of our furry family will be "séjouring" in Vaison la Romaine... Chez Ellen and Mark. Not sure if the Sullivan's will have time to update their blog... but you might check in just in case!