FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

Une cabane in La Ciotat

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TODAY'S WORD: À table!

    : Time to eat!; Lunch (or Dinner) is served! 

A DAY IN A FRENCH Life by Kristi Espinasse

Ever since we lost our picnic table in a fire last year, we’ve struggled to find a suitable replacement.  With no place to gather for outdoor meals, we resorted to lugging our dining table outside that first summer, enjoying lunch or dinner under the open sky whenever the weather was good. We managed this way until Christmas when eleven of us gathered around for le repas de Noël. In the new year, when it became too cold pour dîner dehors, we carried our dining table back into the house, where it belonged.

Come springtime, we rustled up a round metal table from our garden, in time to enjoy meals out on la terrasse again. Finally, by summer’s end, Jean-Marc saw an ad in Facebook Marketplace—and there she was, a wooden beauty that would become our new centerpiece for l'heure de l'apéro, lunch, dinner, or even work.

As fast as you can say à table! my husband bought it. “Our jeep isn’t big enough to transport it,” Jean-Marc explained, on returning from the seller’s house. “But the man said he would be able to help.”

Ricci and I were heading to Mom’s around the side of our house when the table arrived. Jean-Marc had invited the seller to sit down for an ice-cold mousse after he had generously assisted with the delivery. (He had a more spacious fourgonnette). Beyond just transporting the table, the man had taken the time to treat the wood with l'huile de lin—a courtesy that didn’t go unnoticed.

The older man was somewhat winded as he took a seat at his former table, his salt-and-pepper locks damp from the oppressive heatwave. He wore a classic white marcel and a pair of shorts. “Bonjour, Monsieur!” I said, breezing by. “Oh, que c’est belle cette table. Merci!” After a hasty hello, I disappeared to Mom’s for some trivial matter, leaving the men to finish up business. I made it as far as the driveway when a gnawing feeling inside made me realize I'd ignored our visitor. I brushed it aside, reminding myself he was but a stranger.

Before long, we were enjoying meals around our second-hand table. Nickel! Max said, admiring its oval design, which rounded out the seating to 8. "We could even squeeze in two more,” Jackie noted. Everyone was enthusiastic, but none more than Jules, who spontaneously slipped her son-in-law 200 euros to pay for it. "It's beautiful! I love it!" she said. Jean-Marc had truly outdone himself, finding the perfect table for just 180 euros—and with 5 chairs included, à ce prix-là, c'était une aubaine! (And with the extra cash he could buy Grandma some more ice cream, to thank her for picking up the tab!)

One morning while we were having our coffee, I asked Jean-Marc about table's history. “Why was the man selling it?” 

"Oh," Jean-Marc sighed. “He was being evicted from the property, where he was renting a little cabanon."

“Evicted. That's terrible!”

Jean-Marc explained that the man had a home in Marseille, but this modest cabin had been his pied-à-terre for thirty-five years. Like many Marseillais back in the day, he would escape the city for "la campagne," sharing this seaside terrain with a few other families, each with their own petite cabane on the property.

Now those buildings will be demolished, with little regard for the people who once made memories there. All to make room for yet another programme immobilier—brand new condos. With the growth and rising popularity of our town—a former industrial shipping hub now catering to yachts—the demographics are shifting, and the demand for real estate is soaring.

Sadly, this longtime resident has to leave. With the help of his daughter, the elderly man listed his few possessions and packed up his modest abode to return to the outskirts of Marseille.

As Jean-Marc told the story, I pictured the man at this very table, where he and others had once gathered after returning from la pêche or a hike in the fragrant hills above La Ciotat. They might have enjoyed a round of pastis followed by a homemade soupe de poisson. A doze under the shady parasol pine completed the perfect journée.

Those halcyon days were fading, and soon the pine tree would be gone too. When Monsieur sat at the table for the last time, sharing a refreshment with Jean-Marc, a chapter of his life was coming to a poignant close…

…Yet, a new chapter for the table was just beginning, with the man forever intertwined in its story. His soul—and even his sweat—became part of it over the years, and again at the farewell delivery, as salty droplets mingled with the condensation from the men’s cool beers, anointing the wood below...

We will all enjoy this table, even more than the one we have lost. Though I missed the chance to connect with a venerable character, my hasty hello now serves as a reminder to focus on what matters most in life: the people we meet and their stories. As the saying goes:

Ne négligez pas de pratiquer l’hospitalité.  Car certains, en l’exerçant, ont accueilli des anges sans le savoir.

Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.

À table! = Everyone to the table! Scroll to the end to see Jackie studying at the table, and news of her classes.

COMMENTS
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Thanks in advance! Click here to leave a message.

FRENCH VOCABULARY

Audio File: Click here to listen to Jean-Marc pronounce the French  terms 

le repas de Noël = Christmas meal
pour dîner dehors = to dine outside
la terrasse = patio, terrace
l’heure de l’apéro (f) = aperitif hour
à table! = to the table!
la mousse = beer (informally)
la fourgonnette = the van
l’huile de lin (f) = linseed oil
le marcel = tank top
Bonjour, Monsieur! = Hello, sir!
Oh, que c’est belle cette table. Merci! = Oh, how beautiful this table is. Thank you!
Nickel! = Perfect!
à ce prix-là, c’était une aubaine! = at that price, it was a bargain!
le cabanon = the cabin
le pied-à-terre = second home
la campagne = the countryside
la cabane = the hut
le programme immobilier = real estate development
la pêche = fishing
le pastis = anise-flavored spirit
la soupe de poisson = fish soup
la journée = the day
Ne négligez pas de pratiquer l’hospitalité. Car certains, en l’exerçant, ont accueilli des anges sans le savoir. = Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.(from Hebrews 13.2)

A municipal poster along the boardwalk in our seaside town

REMERCIEMENTS
A heartfelt thank you to the following readers who recently made a donation to this journal. Your support is deeply appreciated. Merci beaucoup! — Kristi 

Anne U.
Julie C.
Edward G.
Sheryl W.
Holly R.-J.
Claudia-Marie P.

My daughter, at the new table and in the middle of a finance class. (Can you see Jules's doves, center?) Wish Jackie bonne chance! This week she began her Masters at Kedge Business School in Marseille, the very same école de commerce where her father graduated in 1991. 

Today, we say goodbye to a longtime reader, Lou, who also helped with a few harvests in his ninth decade of life!

TODAY’S WORD: Repose en Paix

  : rest in peace

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

It is just after 6 a.m., and my husband is on his way out to harvest at a friend’s vineyard in Bandol. Ever since we sold our last domain, Jean-Marc has managed to keep his feet consistently in (or near) a bucket of grapes. I’m happy for him, and seeing the smile on his face as he kisses me goodbye reminds me to always encourage him to follow his path.

As Chief Grape left the room, I felt an inkling to pray for him. Though it's been years since he struggled with le cafard, our emotional needs and spiritual growth don't suddenly end when we feel better. Positive thoughts and prayers are strengtheners, and faith and hope are what keep us going. My wish for each family member is always the same: that they will grow closer to leur source de vie.

I hear the jingle bell on the front door signaling someone's left the house. "Lord, as Jean-Marc goes out into the vineyard today, his sacred place, please speak to his heart." I didn't have further instructions for God, only one additional request: "Could you also please show me a sign? I know we are not supposed to ask for signs, but anything at all, God, to let me know you are working in his heart."

With that, my day began. I wrangled with family members, trying to get everyone—from my dog to Grandma—settled so I could eventually find some peace and quiet to meet my deadlines. Besides these weekly blog posts, I have a bi-monthly column due soon for France Today and a book project I'm struggling to keep up with.

First order of the day: get my stubborn dog out for a walk. With Ricci straining against the leash, I reached down and scooped her up. "There! ON VA MARCHER!" After fits and starts around the neighborhood, we made it home in time to quickly scramble a few eggs (I hear protein is a good mood stabilizer. Hopefully it helps with female hormones too—mine, this time, and not Ricci’s…).

I now needed to get Mom sorted out—not that Jules felt the same need. But she couldn't deny she needed groceries, and it was time to help change her sheets. Only, after Mom's new helper, Fiona, returned from the store, Mom threw a wrench in my plans by deciding the bed linen change would have to wait. What’s more, she sent Fiona back to my place to change my sheets. (It turns out this was all a lack of communication, which happens often in a bilingual household!)

Tensions were growing, lunch preparation loomed in the air, and I tried to focus on my writing, as story ideas superimposed one over the other, adding to the confusion. Just when I settled down to sort things out, Jackie asked if I could hang out her laundry as she was running late for work. Then Max telephoned for a favor: would I follow him to the repair shop to drop off his company car? And just like that, rebelote!—we were back on the jungle train again!

Somehow, we monkeys managed to get through the day: Jean-Marc processed more grapes, Mom got clean sheets, Jackie made it to work on time, Max’s car was fixed, and I wrote a workable draft for this blog. As usual, the pressure began to ease when I checked in to say goodnight to Mom, and found her in a happy mood (watching horse videos on YouTube does that). "Kristi! You'll never believe what happened!" she said. "Earlier, I was lying here in bed, wishing for something sweet to eat after dinner. A moment later, Jean-Marc came in with two ice cream bars! Isn't that incredible?"

Incredible? Yes, on so many levels. Suddenly, I remembered the prayer I had said earlier and hurried home to tell Jean-Marc about le signe de là-haut. He smiled, more in amusement than conviction, but that was good enough for me. As I once read, "Le sourire est chez l'homme l'empreinte de Dieu"—the smile is in man the imprint of God.

But, dear reader, our story doesn't end here, nor do God's mysterious ways. When evening came, I asked Jean-Marc if he happened to have a photo of the vineyard where he was harvesting that morning—something to illustrate the blog post I was working on.

"The only photo I have is with Lou Bogue."

"Lou Bogue?"

"Yes, Lou harvested with me at that same vineyard several years ago."

That's when I recalled a visit from one of my readers, Lou. At the age of 83, with shoulder-length silver locks and a boyish grin, he helped us harvest at our first vineyard, Domaine Rouge-Bleu. When we moved to La Ciotat, he traveled to visit us. By then, he was in his early 90s. I'll never forget taking Lou to lunch and leaving him to explore le centre-ville that afternoon. He insisted he’d find his way back to his Airbnb, but by early evening, Jean-Marc had an inkling of his own and felt a strong urge to get in his car and go searching for Lou…

Lo and behold, there at the old port, Lou was standing on a corner, waiting for a bus back to his rental. Only there were no more buses that evening. Just when a stranger wandered up to Lou, soliciting for something, Jean-Marc quickly pulled up to the curb.

He reached over to open the passenger door and Lou, ever chipper (and a little pompette after leaving one of the local bars…), thanked him for the ride home. Lou eventually returned to Florida and kept in touch with me via Facebook, as he had for years. In fact, he was one of my first blog readers! As always, he said he was planning a trip to see us. He was 95 the last time he made this promise.

After Jean-Marc reminded me of the harvest with Lou, I went over to Facebook to contact him for permission to post his photo. Only, instead of his usual update, there was a message from his daughter:

"…We want to thank all who've shared cards and their prayers after the recent loss of my dad, Louis Bogue, in Dunedin, Florida. He lived a full 96 years and passed in peaceful sleep after being surrounded by family on February 15, 2024. We will celebrate his life on Father's Day in Atlanta with a book we are creating of his golf journey and adventure-filled life. We invite you to share sentiments and photos…"

I am so sad to learn Lou is no longer among us, and upset I missed the chance to say goodbye. It all brings me back to my driven nature, as I crack the whip at the beginning of another day. Why do I always feel so rushed to get everything done “on time?” Just what is “on time” when you are on a schedule of your own making?

I ask myself, finally, “Whether I get the sheets changed today or whether I’m late saying adieu to a dearly departed friend —what is time in the face of eternity?”

I can almost hear Lou's voice, his wisdom echoing back an answer: "Time, mon amie, is eternal when you do everything with love. So sit back, smile, and remember your husband, your family, and your friends. Have a little more fun in life. Get out there and enjoy some adventures. Love life!"

Thank you, Lou, for keeping in touch and for always promising to get back to France. I love you! I did not tell you directly or often enough how much you impressed me with your plans. If I’m honest, this middle-aged mess was a little suspicious of your endless youth—and now regret not asking you your secret (which may have been shared in the paragraph above)! In your mid-90s, your excitement and verve for life, for friends, and your love for France were stronger than ever. You wore a permanent smile, l'empreinte de Dieu. Sign of signs!

I like a story to come full circle, so let’s return to that glorious vignoble in Bandol, where my husband was just beginning the harvest. In that paradisical setting, I prayed that God would work in his heart and send me some kind of message. I know we’re not supposed to ask for signs from God—perhaps that's why I received one from an old friend instead. Repose en paix, Lou. In memory of you, I’m going to try to slow down, chill out, and follow in your loving footsteps.

After typing the last line of this story, I stumbled upon an old email reply from Lou:

"Yes, a young girl’s dreams of finding that way of life that will bring all those dreams to fusion is a hard journey. Sometimes it's long and tedious, and sometimes a move to a completely new environment opens the door to understanding what you really want out of life. As the saying goes, NOTHING VENTURED—NOTHING GAINED. Another big secret of life: KEEP MOVING forward, never backward."

Here’s another of the many notes I received from Lou: “Hope all is well with you and family, basking in 80 degrees here in Fla., playing golf 3 days a week, working 3 days a week, keeping in good health, goal is to see my GREAT GRAND Children, do with their lives, they are 4, 6, 8 and one on the way!!!! Remember key to long life, KEEP MOVING!”

Back when Lou harvested at Domaine Rouge-Bleu (story here), and a note he wrote:

I've just been able to send an e-mail. I read your book, which I enjoy and get your word a day, which is helping me try and learn French, as I'm planning on spending a month next Sept. in the Provence area celebrating my 80th, hope to try your wine. I'm from Casa Grande, AZ., also a desert rat, much good luck to you and to your family. I'm sure, like most of your readers, you feel like family.  Au revoir.

COMMENTS
Your comments are a joy to read and your edits help me so much. Thanks in advance! To leave a comment, click here. 

Lou harvesting at Domaine Rouge-Bleu. Don't miss fellow harvester Sandy Maberly's post about Lou, and how he inspired everyone. 

FRENCH VOCABULARY

Click here to listen to Jean-Marc pronounce the French
le cafard = the blues, depression
leur source de vie = their source of life
On va marcher = we are going to walk
rebelote = here we go again
le signe de là-haut = the sign from above
le sourire est chez l'homme l'empreinte de Dieu = the smile is in man the imprint of God
le centre-ville = the town center
pompette = tipsy
adieu = goodbye forever
l'empreinte de Dieu = the imprint of God
le vignoble = the vineyard
repose en paix = rest in peace

*The smile quote is by Robert Choin

REMERCIEMENTS
When I receive a donation from a reader, I always send a thank-you email. However, there are times when I don’t have the correct address, or worse, my message ends up in a junk folder, never to be seen. To the following readers, I hope my note reached you, and I want to express my gratitude once again for supporting the blog!

Bob M.
Phil J.
Trina S.
Vicki B.
Nancy M.
Michele C.
Nancy S.
Marilyn W.
Lori K. C.
Maureen D.
Crystal and Greg A.
Midge and Dick Fleming
Natalia, Rod, Elley and Ari 

Lunch with Lou, the last time he came to visit. Read one more story about Lou, here.

Ricci totally ignores the words "marcher" and "nager" (walk and swim). Her favorite words are English: "cookie," "Grandma," and "Jackie." More about favorites in today's story. Thank you for reading and sharing this post with a dog lover.

TODAY’S WORD: l’épanouissement

   : blossoming/flourishing; fulfillment

Un chien trouve son épanouissement dans les petites joies du quotidien, tout comme nous trouvons le nôtre en partageant ces moments avec lui.

A dog finds its fulfillment in the small joys of everyday life, just as we find ours in sharing those moments with them.

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

Ricci is about to turn four, and it is remarkable how much she has enriched our lives since she bounded into our home from a remote barn in central France. What began as a leap of faith has evolved into a profound complicité—one that makes me confront an unexpected dilemma: the deep, sometimes surprising love I feel for Ricci compared to the affection I had for our previous dogs. It feels almost taboo to even talk about un chien favori when you’ve had two lovely dogs before her. As I process these feelings, I wanted to take a moment to honor our rescapée on this, the week of her birthday.

I still can’t believe how lucky we are to have this beautiful, funny, stubborn, and adorably clumsy American Shepherd as our new family dog. Jean-Marc and I regularly remark: “It’s a good thing I found her!” While we enjoy teasing each other, the uncomfortable truth is Ricci’s fate was decided by a flip of the coin. Heads, we bring home this unknown, possibly problematic dog. Tails, we leave her…to her fate. I couldn't bear the thought of that. The decision was quickly made! 

To think I ever had doubts about how it would all work out the day we collected Ricci from a dog, cow, and cannabis farm in Auvergne. The owner was phasing out the puppy side of her business, and that’s how we ended up bringing home this blue-eyed mama. Strangely, she did not resist as we carried her away without a leash, a collar, or even the slightest idea of who we were and where she was going. Throughout the 5-hour ride home she was silent, barely moving from my lap, which soon became a pool of drool from her unspoken stress.

She perked up upon arrival! In those early days, our adoptee was so unpredictable: she tried to escape, trembled for weeks, growled at other dogs, nipped at family members, and peed all over our home. To top it off, she had the most offensive breath—haleine so bad it rivaled les Epoisses de Bourgogne, one of the stinkiest cheeses in France.

Then there was her prénom, which was difficult for me to pronounce (I've never been good at rolling those French "r"s. I thought to change her name, but given how disoriented she was, it didn't seem like a good idea).

Despite the negatives, we saw Ricci ("RRREE-CHEE") for what she was, a displaced dog who, once we earned her trust, would get better. Around that time a reader named Lin shared the "3:3:3 Rule" for rescue dogs: in three days, she would become familiar with her new surroundings, in three weeks she'd be comfortable with her environment, and in three months she'd feel secure and set in her routine. I hung on to this promise as our newest family member progressed through the various étapes. With every day that passed, we watched Ricci slowly blossom from a skittish, uncertain dog into a confident, affectionate companion. The first time her little nub of a tail wagged (you had to look closely because her queue had been docked), the moment she finally slept through the night, the day she jumped into my lap—each of these was a sign that the 3:3:3 Rule was working. It was a gradual transformation, but each step was a victory, for Ricci and for us.

Just when things were coming together, there was a crisis. Ricci panicked after a sudden bruit at the farmers market and ran off. During the chase, with Ricci fleeing beside traffic, our short life together flashed before my eyes: all the progress she'd made, all the trust we'd built...only for her to be running away when she needed me most!

When finally she landed in my arms, saved by the quick action of a few locals, I wasn't about to let her go again. It took weeks before I began to trust her. I learned our little Houdini could wiggle right out of her harness as she did when Jean-Marc brought her to the dock, to wait for him while he worked on his boat. 

Eventually, we felt confident enough to give her some slack while strolling along the boardwalk. She's gradually adapting to le grincement of delivery truck doors, the pop! of a deflating paddle board, and the whir and grumble of the big, bad streetcleaner truck.

These days she leaps with joy onto our couch (sometimes slamming into the side of it, completely unharmed if aerodynamically challenged...) where she eventually settles in the curve of my legs to fall asleep. I love her so much I could burst. "Mom," I say, seated next to Jules, Ricci cuddled in between us. "I... I think she is my favorite dog." I could only admit this to my own Mom, as saying it to anyone else seems taboo. It would be as shocking as choosing a favorite kid.

We sit in silence, stroking Ricci, remembering our beloved golden retriever, who passed away two summers ago. "I think Smokey picked Ricci out for us," I whisper. The idea is comforting and takes away some of the guilt I feel for loving Ricci so much. Suddenly, I am reminded of the day I realized I loved Smokey more than our first dog, Breizh...I remember feeling bad about that, too!

I’ve come to realize that with each new dog, my heart has grown bigger, not because one dog is better than the other, but because each has taught me to love more deeply. As someone once said: Un nouveau chien ne remplace jamais un vieux chien, il ne fait qu’agrandir le cœur.  A new dog never replaces an old dog, it only enlarges the heart. 

Seeing Ricci’s (and our own) épanouissement over the past year has only reinforced this truth. No wonder my heart is bursting with love. Joyeux Anniversaire, Ricci, et merci!

***

Jean-Marc's boat, a 1925 pointu, is the first one on the left. 

COMMENTS
Your comments are enjoyed and your corrections are appreciated! Click here to leave a message.

FRENCH VOCABULARY

Click here to listen to Jean-Marc pronounce the French words below

la complicité = the bond/connection
le chien favori = favorite dog
un(e) rescap(é)e = a rescue dog 
l'haleine (f) = the breath
les Epoisses de Bourgogne = Epoisses cheese from Burgundy
le prénom = first name
les étapes = the stages
la queue = the tail
le bruit = noise
le grincement = the creaking
Un nouveau chien ne remplace jamais un vieux chien, il ne fait qu’agrandir le cœur = A new dog never replaces an old dog, it only enlarges the heart
l’épanouissement = the blossoming/flourishing
Joyeux Anniversaire, Ricci, et merci! = Happy Birthday, Ricci, and thank you!

REMERCIEMENTS 
A heartfelt thank you to the following readers who recently made a donation to this journal. Your support is deeply appreciated. Merci beaucoup! — Kristi

Sally B.
Ingrid S.
Cerelle B.
Martha S.
Phoebe E.
Pamela H.
Michele C.
Richard H.
Robinelle C.

Love from your Phoenix friend! --Cerelle B.

Merci, Kristi! Vos pensées sont toujours intéressantes et utiles. --Phoebe E.

Just love your style of writing and meaningful missives! They can easily connect with one’s life and provoke thinking more deeply. It is especially nice to connect often with the South of France, I love France so much! Bon Soir! --Ingrid S.