: to run errands
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ECOUTEZ - Listen to Jean-Marc pronounce today's phrase: Download Faire-des-courses
Faire des courses. Chérie, je pars faire des courses.
To run some errands. Darling, I'm going to run some errands.
A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE
by Kristi Espinasse
Last week I received an accidental reply, an email not meant for my eyes. This happens (I think) when subscribers try to forward my newsletter to a friend...but hit the other button instead. It often makes for colorful reading, on my end, except when it doesn't, as when this subscriber wrote the following email to her friend (concerning my recent post):
I mean, really
Time to discontinue. Unless one is interested in her personal saga, there is nothing to be learned.
"Nothing to be learned?" "Her personal saga?"
I disagree with the first comment! As for the second, I can see how some readers would agree--readers who have recently signed on (as had the reader, above...) or readers who take into account certain stories (I have spoken about my skin cancer, yes, a saga!). And yet I see this this 14-year chronicle of our French life as an overall lighthearted story.
Today, we take a break from The Saga in Question, and listen in on another colorful conversation -- this one took place last night, during a phone call with my dad and my belle-mère Marsha, who often telephone me via conference call:
After updating Dad and Marsha on the latest--that we may sell off the vineyard and keep our farmhouse and garden--(this has been my hope), the subject turned to Jean-Marc's health.
"So how is Jimmy doing?" my dad asked....
Jean-Marc (a.k.a. "Jimmy") swimming last week in the Mediterranean
"Jean-Marc is feeling better today." I replied. "In fact, he went for a long run this morning!"
"Yes, he actually ran all the way to town--to post a letter, to go to the bank, and to stop by the pharmacy. Come to think of it, he literally 'ran some errands'!"
My dad's instant guffaws tempted me to repeat my corny joke, and so I did, and now we were both guffawing, our laughter bouncing like popped corn landing in a giant bucket at a movie theater's refreshment stand. Later, I thought about my father's easy laughter, and how that is one thing I miss from back home (besides family, American movie theaters, salty popcorn, and corny jokes).
But it's no joke that I'm still holding out for a change of heart in my husband--that he will begin to see our homestead "with fresh eyes" and want to safeguard this little piece of heaven in France...which brings us (you, dear reader, and me) to the newly-hatched Plan B ("B" for beautiful! or best! or blessing!).
I am wondering who, among you, might be interested in renting our farmhouse? On the south coast of France?
This is only a thought at this point--and a very small chance that we could sell only the vines and keep our home, given that part of us still wants to turn the page.
But a chance, no matter how small, is still a chance! I leave you with wishes for a good weekend, and this enticing view from our bedroom window!!! :-)
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For more online reading: The Lost Gardens: A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety