FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

By the time the leaves turn gold in Lyon, we'll be meeting up with part of my American family. Read about our virtual meetup in today's story, and pick up a host of new French words.

TODAY’S WORD: UNE FAUTE DE FRAPPE

    : typing error,
    : error made when hitting the wrong button

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

I wish I had a written transcript of our accidental family video chat, week before last. The surprising live conference began when my dad tried ringing me via Messenger and, d’un coup, several family members burst onto the screen--POP! POP! POP!--one by one appearing before us en temps réel...

POP! - My little sister manifested from her living room in Washington State. I could almost hear the crabs snapping their claws on Shaw Island where Kelley and her husband Brad (also visible) catch them.

POP! - And there was my daughter in Lyon, hair tied back and wearing stylish non-prescription glasses. Was she at school?

POP! - Then suddenly my husband popped onto l’écran! Beyond Jean-Marc's seatbelt, just past his left shoulder, I could see the familiar landscape of the Southern French Alps as he drove north for a week of hiking and biking. 

These sudden POPS were followed by a couple of POTENTIAL POPS as Jules, Heidi, Max, my nephew Payne, and niece Reagan were being automatically dialed up in La Ciotat, Denver, and Boulder. Mon Dieu! I felt the need to warn my mother and my sister of their imminent exposure. Au fait.... Was Mom entirely dressed? (Slim chance in this heatwave!) And Heidi…Just where would she be? Hopefully not in the W.-C.! No use transferring my own insecurities onto others--besides it was too late, here we were, THE ORIGINAL POPS, staring at each other, wondering what the heck had just happened. Indeed, qu'est-ce qui vient de se passer?

UNE FAUTE DE FRAPPE...
"Hi Dad. Hi Everyone!" I giggled. “Dad, did you accidentally hit the ‘Family’ tab?” (That's the name of our Messenger chat group. We use it for sending each other photos, updates, and milestones. But this time, with his unintentional frappe, Dad was teleporting his kin into a live conference!)

"I don't know,” my father replied, in his characteristic innocence and étonnement. “I was just trying to call you." Dad was referring to our weekly appel, the one he’s affectionately dubbed "Coffee with Kristi”, but today's call with all the gang was more like Happy Hour! All we needed was champagne… and sparkling water pour moi.

As we smiled at each other, a little tongue-tied from the surprise, Brad chimed in with news about his and Kelley's upcoming visit to France, and would Jackie be available to dine with them in Lyon? 

Jackie lit up, "Oh, I’d love to! Avec plaisir!" And just like that the screen came alive with conversation.

I sat back and enjoyed seeing my family’s faces, thinking it amazing how quickly we’d all showed up to this unscheduled party. And how easy it would be to reach everyone again if ever in need or—soyons fous!—just spontaneously.

Maybe that’s what Dad was thinking when he “accidentally” hit the wrong button and POP! POP! POP! POP! he got a sudden burst of smiling faces in return. It all just goes to show that, sometimes, it pays to throw caution to the wind… and hit the Family Button.

This one's for you, Dad, OUR ORIGINAL POP❤️.  

COMMENTS
To leave a comment, or to read one, click here. My Dad, who is hopefully reading, enjoys a brief weather report so please include one along with the city you’re writing in from. Merci. Click here to comment.

Une faute de frappe led to everyone in this picture (except Max) being virtually teleported into our live video conference. Left to right: Max, Dad, Brad, my belle-mère Marsha, Jackie, Kelley, Me, and Jean-Marc. 

Below: A screenshot of the message I sent after our chat ended. (Re “Marsha joined the chat”: Dad shares his account with my belle-mère Marsha.)

FRENCH VOCABULARY 

Click here to listen to the French words

une faute de frappe = a typing error
d’un coup = all at once, in one go
en temps réel = real time, instantly
l'écran = computer, phone screen
Mon Dieu! = My God!
le W.-C. = water closet (bathroom)
au fait = by the way
Qu'est-ce qui vient de se passer? = what just happened?
un appel = phone call
l’étonnement = surprise
pour moi = for me
avec plaisir = with pleasure
Soyons fous = be a little wild, be a little crazy
la belle-mère = stepmother

REMERCIEMENTS

Mille mercis to the readers listed below who have recently sent in blog donations, or purchased our memoir--or bought postcards! Your contributions go a long way in not only backing this journal but also in inspiring me to maintain my writing momentum during the summer break. Your support means a lot, and I'm truly grateful. Amicalement, Kristi

Sue W.
Joan C.
Joan L.
Patty C.
Leslie B.
Judith L.
Sandra D.
Kitty W.P.
Suzanne P.
Jacquelin H.
Marshall & Caroline M.

"Our dear Kristi, wishing you & Jackie many more delightful getaways! xox" Patty C.

"…avec des câlins pour la façon dont vos splendides écrits nous enrichissent." Kitty W.P.

My son Max, up to his usual shenanigans--cuz Mom can't have enough hats!

Villefranche-sur-Mer, where Jackie and I spent three days last week.

TODAY'S EXPRESSION: SOYONS FOUS

  let's be crazy" or "let's be wild". 

Soyons fous is a playful and light-hearted expression that encapsulates the idea of taking risks, having fun, and embracing the unexpected. It's a reminder that life is short and should be lived with enthusiasm and a willingness to explore new horizons.

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

Pour la cinquième fois, ever since our first trip together to Paris when she was 16, Jackie and I had the pleasure of experiencing a mother-daughter getaway. On Monday, my girl at the wheel of our Suzuki Jimny, we headed East along the A8 motorway, direction La Côte d’Azur. What should have been a 2-hour drive turned into 4 given “le traf” as we jokingly called it, though le trafic didn’t seem so long in Jackie’s company.

The moment I put my daughter in charge of this mini vacation, Jackie decided on a 3-day stay in Villefranche-sur-Mer. I had given my 25-year-old a budget and a green light to select our hébergement but she surprised me by making lunch and dinner reservations, too—including an evening in Monaco! It was time to let go of my purse strings and practice the French art of leisure and enjoyment, and there was something to celebrate as well:

“You have made it to midterm, Chouchou! Look how far you have come. I’m so proud of you!”

Six months ago Jackie made the decision to leave bartending and study UI (or User Interface Design). Her swift vocational changes (from Fashion design to bartending to web design may have given me whiplash, but each seemingly unrelated étape is bringing her closer to her field, or to a field of possibilities. Already, this 10-month intensive computer design course in Lyon has given her a host of useful and technical skills, from website creation and coding to logo design.

As we drive East towards the Riviera at a snail’s pace, I notice all the logos along the autoroute, and Jackie and I tchatche about everything from design to user experience (something we’ll soon be laughing about when we “experience” our hotel room…).

Our stay at Hôtel le Versailles began with a birdbath (for me) at the sink after our room’s shower was too complicated to operate, in spite of the hotel’s laminated diagram (a clue we weren’t the only befuddled bathers). Next, it was the light switches, les interupteurs, which didn’t correspond to the lamps and the plugs which were few and far between. None of the switches on the hairdryer worked, making me think it was the fault of the plugs again when really it was a matter of locating the push-button on the back. Mais bien sûr…but then why not eliminate (as most hotels do) all the other buttons for clarity? The electric blind couldn’t be raised…until we finally located the switch (yards away from the window, above my nightstand. No wonder my reading lamp didn’t work). Because the hotel was historic, and the staff, kind, we overlooked all these design flops and, instead, had a good laugh with each new discovery.

That first night we dined beneath the stars at Les Garçons, a 10-minute walk from the hotel. The braised beef over mashed potatoes was delicious and filling, so when the waiter presented the dessert menu there was some hesitation until, with a devilish smile he exclaimed “Soyons fous!” Go ahead. Be wild and crazy! Have some dessert.

From then on, soyons fous became the catchphrase of our escapade…

Soyons fous! And so we threw caution to the wind, ordering the Menu du Château in Eze…
Soyons fous! And splurged on paninis at The Jasmin Grill & Lounge in Beaulieu-sur-Mer...
Soyons fous! And drove to Monaco for reservations at Sexy Tacos--this, after Jackie won at the Casino (that's a whole nother story)!

Gripping the passenger door as my daughter navigated our mère-fille adventure, I tried not to worry about accidents or the money being spent. And when we cruised past the morgue and a lonely cemetery, ça y est, I knew this carefree time with my youngest was as priceless as life itself.

As if reading my mind, Jackie said, “If I die before you j'aimerais être incinérée.” The unexpected comment, coming from a healthy young woman, was halting. This many days later I am all choked up remembering the conversation in which, for a moment, we stopped to think about death and a life without each other.

“Oh, Jackie. It is hard to talk about la mort (pronouncing it now, I’m struck by how similar it sounds to l’amour, or love). Taking a deep breath, I copied my youngest’s wishes. “I would like to be cremated too.”

There!  We'd said it!  “It is all such a mystery, Sweetie. All I want when we are gone…is to find each other on the other side…two heart-shaped bubbles floating through space!”

In the meantime here we are in the heart-shaped present moment. With a reminder to seize the day. Soyons fous!  My wallet is empty but this mini-vacation with my daughter was worth every penny. And after a cathartic conversation in our car my spirit is bouncing again, comme une bulle d’amour bridging the gap between now and The Ever After. I am a little less fearful of the unknown. After all, “There is no fear in love.”*

*1 John 4:18   

COMMENTS
To read the comments or to leave one, click here. Include your town or city and a weather report (my Dad, if he's reading, will appreciate it and so will I!). Click here to comment.

FRENCH VOCABULARY

Click here to listen to the soundfile of all the French

soyons fous! = Be wild! Be crazy!
pour la cinquième fois = for the fifth time
la Côté d’Azur = “The Blue Coastline,” The French Riviera
le trafic  = traffic
l’hébergement = accommodation, lodgings
Les Garçons = The Waiters, The Guys
une escapade = getaway
le chouchou/ la chouchoute = the favorite 
une étape = a step (in a process)
tchatche (tchatcher) = to chat 
l’interrupteur = light switch
mais bien sûr = but of course
le panini = grilled sandwich 
ça y est! = that’s it!
la mort = death
l’amour = love
une bulle d’amour = a bubble of love

REMERCIEMENTS 

I want to extend a big thank you to the readers listed below who have recently sent in blog donations. Your contributions go a long way in not only backing this journal but also in inspiring me to maintain my writing momentum during the summer break. Your support means a lot, and I'm truly grateful. Amicalement, Kristi

Mary T.
Sally B.
Betty R.
Linda G.
David C.
Heather H.
Suzanne D.
Bernadette G.
Natalia,Rod and Mignons

“Que cet petit pourboire vous encouragerez de continuer.” David C.

"Thank you for your always wonderful posts!! Your words never fail to touch our hearts! Blessings always Calins et bises!" Natalia,Rod and Mignons

"I enjoyed The Lost Gardens. Both you and Jean-Marc chronicled your Life Journey with such candor and honesty. Your descriptive writing styles kept me reading and cheering you on." Bernadette G.

Jackie. 

At Les Garçons

In French, the term "patate” is sometimes used to describe an animal that is very cute and has a very endearing character. Dogs and cats are known for their sweetness and affectionate side, and that is why they are often nicknamed "potato." (French translation below)

TODAY'S WORD: “la patate”

   : potato 

Enfin, le terme « patate » est parfois utilisé pour décrire un animal qui est très mignon et qui a un caractère très attachant. Les chiens et les chats sont connus pour leur douceur et leur côté affectueux, et c'est pourquoi ils sont souvent surnommés « patate » —Kingpet.fr

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

"Les Patates (The Potatoes)"

This month we are sharing our home with two little dogs, Izzy (pronounced "Easy") and Loca— otherwise known as “Les Patates.” The chiens belong to our son's girlfriend, Ana, who lives in Montpellier but braves many aller-retours to La Ciotat to be near Max. And because Max temporarily moved back in with us after renting out his snazzy apartment to tourists, we have le jeune couple here at home along with the dogs. 

Though I am a dog-lover, I didn't have an instant connection with these two toutous. I think any hesitation was more on the part of the dogs than on me. They only seemed interested in me when I was eating. Perhaps that is where they get their amusing surnom? (Ana calls them Les Patates which means “The Potatoes” in colloquial French.)

“Foodies” could just as easily be a surnom for these little sausages—given their ability to instantly manifest at the sound of a wrapper, or any ear-raising inking of food. 

As for me, I call them “Les Filles”, even if they are more like Les Mémés, or grandmas—hard of hearing and with cataracts. It took several visits before one of the girls eventually warmed to me. That is how Izzy (the 10-year-old pocket beagle) became my favorite, or le chouchou. I began to notice how sweet she is, how she'll eventually give you a kiss if you lean down and repeat "bisous" enough times, and how she wags her tail like a puppy when passing strangers on the street. 

After having two big dogs, I am seeing many advantages of small ones: they're easier to handle when out on a walk and they are moins encombrants (not that dogs could ever take up too much space in our lives, could they?). Compactness is a plus when it comes to hosting a couple of canines along with extra company (did I mention our daughter is home for vacation, too?).

As things get busier, messier, and louder around our household this summer, I have discovered an unexpected connection with the second dog, Loca, the French bulldog-Jack Russell mix. She too needs a room of her own, and blankets and snacks and YouTube when the world begins to hurl and whirl around her. Like that, one morning, the two of us found ourselves cuddled up in bed when a familiar feeling returned to me after a year sans chien: la paix.

There is something so calming about a dog snuggled by one’s side. Dogs are like comfort food, they nourish us in ways a healthy diet can’t. They fill and refuel us like a humble potato. Perhaps that is why the French call them “les patates”….

🐾   🐾   🐾   🐾   🐾

COMMENTS
Thanks in advance for your comments which are the icing on the cake of this edition! I love to read your words and learn so much from you (including spelling and grammar--so don't hesitate to send in a correction). Click here to leave a comment.

A tomato on the left and a “potato” on the right. Loca, enjoying the front porch.

FRENCH VOCABULARY 

Listen to Jean-Marc pronounce the French and English

la patate = potato
le chien = dog
l’aller-retour = round trip 
le jeune couple = the young couple
le toutou = dog
le surnom = nickname
les filles = the girls 
les mémés = the grandmas
le chouchou = the favorite
le bisous = kiss
moins encombrant = less in the way
sans chien = without dog
la paix = peace

Max and Izzy

Izzy, Loca, and me at the beach

REMERCIEMENTS

Un grand merci to the following readers who recently sent in a blog donation. Your contributions not only support this journal, but they also motivate me to keep on keeping on writing through summertime. Thank you! --Kristi

Pat S.
Ann B.
Greer B.
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Nancy J.
Linda H.
Linda S.
Renee D.
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Marsha C.
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Karmen K.

“Just finished The Lost Gardens. I am so glad you and your husband wrote this book!” Nancy G.
"Thank you Kristi - I look forward to your writings each week!" Pat S.
“I always enjoy your posts - the more French you include, the better.” Judy W.

Loca, Issy, and my Mom, cuddling

A basket of "boules" beside the door of this old stone cabanon. On most family get-togethers, a game of pétanque follows the meal. 

TODAY’S WORD: RENVERSER

  : to knock over, to spill

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

“Down The Hatch: A Vintage Bottle of Champagne + A Deep Well = A Lost Treasure”

On Friday we left the seaside and drove 45 minutes north to the countryside of Fuveau, where Jean-Marc’s aunt lives in a cozy stone house beside an ancient puits. As most of our extended family was away en vacances, this was a small potluck gathering with its delicious “chacun apporte quelque chose” menu. Collecting a few tartes tomates from our car, Jean-Marc was especially happy to be arriving at "La Clapouille" as memories of his childhood—weekend visits in which his grandmother, aunts, and father gathered—gave this place a remarkably soulful feel.   

We added our French tomato pies and some American chocolate chip cookies to the buffet of fromages, charcuteries, and conserves (Aunt Marie-Françoise’s confit d'oignons was delicious over sliced baguette), and sat in a half-circle to catch up on each other's lives. Beyond, the sun began to set behind the rolling collines where rabbits and wild pigs still roam.

Setting down a plateful of petits-fours, I watched Jean-Marc wander over to the old stone well. He was followed by Geneviève’s son, Pierre. I knew exactly what the cousins were up to, “The Sunken Bottle” being among my first memories of La Clapouille (that, and getting disgracefully drunk when meeting Jean-Marc's family for the first time...).

The Sunken Bottle had nothing to do with my inebriated state (that’s another story). As for la bouteille, some 50 years ago, when this serene property was no more than a well and a cabanon, Aunt Geneviève (who owned the rural parcel), family, and friends would drive here from Marseilles to picnic and spend the day exploring. There was the river, below, and the lively étang where a teenage Jean-Marc, his siblings, and cousins delighted in fishing for les écrevisses.

Before several more villas cropped up, the scent of wild thyme, rosemary, and sarriette in the garrigue was intoxicating, and the aunts and their mother enjoyed gathering the herbes sauvages. Afterwards, they made their own flavorful mixes for seasoning. If lucky, each family would return to the city with little gifted bottles of handpicked herbes de Provence, for use on everything from ratatouille to French fries. That is how I received my first fiole (I still remember the little glass bottle) of this precious concoction.

On one such weekend picnic, someone put a bottle of champagne in a bucket and lowered it into the old well for chilling. But when later the family tried to retrieve it, the bucket was renversé and the bottle tumbled down the chute with a splash, to settle at the bottom of the well.

Since that time the picnics have continued and Geneviève built a lovely home across from the well and moved to Fuveau (where she opened a droguerie). She also began some projects on the land, including a terrasse ombragée, which was created by joining the well to the small cabanon via a tiled roof and a patio. It is there, on that terrace, that we sat watching the latest treasure hunters hatch a plan to rescue the vintage bottle of champagne.

As our son Max joined the cousins to toss a weighted rope down the shaft, another aunt, Marie-Claire (“Michou”) told about the time Max’s grandfather Gérard braved the “descent inside the well”, only he clambered back up before touching the surface of the water (some 5 meters down). Each generation (our Max now being the third) has pursued the pétillant “prize” but so far all efforts have been in vain. (And even if my son is nearing 30, I have expressly forbidden him to climb into the seemingly bottomless pit). 

Though it is amusing to watch my French family huddle around that well, figuring out how to reach the sunken treasure, it’s also a little sad to think they might soon succeed. Quel dommage! For the stranded bouteille is part of the soul that is La Clapouille, the palpable âme Jean-Marc senses each time he returns--it is wholesome, or the whole sum, of every happy and carefree moment spent with his late father and aunts. He has transferred this joyous réverénce to our son, who practiced his first giddy baby steps on the ground above the sunken champagne.

So I will keep my fingers crossed behind my back that no one outsmarts the well or the bottle, and that future generations will continue to gather around the chute, in creative pursuit.

I leave you with a short video clip of the cousins. You can hear our Max sharing his ideas for retrieving that bottle. Can you understand what he is saying? Enjoy and "see you" in a week!

Amicalement,

Kristi

COMMENTS
Thanks in advance for your comments which are the icing on the cake of this edition! I love to read your words and learn so much from you (including spelling and grammar--so don't hesitate to send in a correction). Extra credit if you tell us where you are writing in from. And a gold star if you mention the weather conditions :-) Click here to comment.

FRENCH VOCABULARY

Click here to listen to Jean-Marc and me read the French and English below

les boules = boules (game of pétanque)
le cabanon = stone hut
renverser = to spill, knock over 
le puits = well
en vacances = on vacation
chacun apporte quelque chose = each person brings something
la clapouille = from “clapier” or rabbit hutch
le fromage = cheese
la charcuterie = charcuterie, cold meats
le confit d’oignon = onion confit
la colline = hill
les petits-fours = finger foods
la bouteille = bottle
l’étang = pond
l’écrevisse = crawfish
la sarriette = savory
l’herbe sauvage = wild herb
les herbes de Provence = herbs of Provence
la fiole = vial
la droguerie = hardware store
la terrasse ombragée = the shady patio
quel dommage = what a pity
pétillant = sparkling


Love these little daisies at Aunt Geneviève's house.

REMERCIEMENTS
Un grand merci to the following readers who recently sent in a blog donation. Your contributions not only support this journal, but they also motivate me to keep on keeping on writing through summertime. Thank you! --Kristi

Sally R.
Holly RS
Sheryl W.

"Thanks for the wonderful blog, Kristi, always a joy to read. . . All the best, Holly"

“Thank you for many years of “French Word”…sharing your life in France and keeping me in touch with my French, having retired from teaching 23 years ago!” —Sally R.



I am bookending this edition with some boules--la pétanque being a favorite game for family and friends. Read about another family reunion in Fuveau, with photos, here

Game of boules (off to the right). Can you see the orange measuring tape dispenser? Handy for measuring across the jack (little yellow ball) to the boule.

There are no cookers for sale in this friperie, but I know where you can find a smokin' deal on a secondhand barbecue. Read on and learn a lot of new French words.

TODAY'S WORD: "marchander"

    : to haggle, bargain, and negotiate the price

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

Remember our cool outdoor cooker--the "brasero"--I told you about in the previous post? My husband just sold it secondhand via Leboncoin (France's version of Craigslist). Both parties--our in-house Cordon-Bleu and les aquéreurs--seem to have gotten a smokin' deal on that barbecue.

Jean-Marc, with the help of my belle-soeur, Cécile, put together the sizzling contraption some 3 years ago. Made up of a giant bowl-shaped container en fer with a wide plancha for cooking fish, vegetables, etc, the brother-sister team added a metal table beneath la cuve (to hold plates and drinks). But the pièce de résistance, and what really gave the cooker its good looks, was the aged barrique holding it up. That authentic wine barrel was sold along with the BBQ (even if I had my eye on it for another project in our garden...).

The day of la vente I heard Jean-Marc's telephone ring. The buyers were here! When my husband went through the gate to meet them on the street, I slunk around the kitchen, where I had a good view of our back patio. Normally I would've gone out to greet the thrifters (as I did the woman who bought our balai vapeur or the guy who bought our cement mixer or le type who bought our climatiseur), but then I'd be tempted to parler de tout et de rien, and this would only prolong the sale (et embêter mon mari). Ah well, fair is fair, les affaires sont les affaires, and this was Jean-Marc’s deal...even if I planned to ask for a wee percentage of the sale ("une taxe" as my husband calls it when he takes a big bite of my dessert at the restaurant). But all I wanted, here, was a small bite--some pocket cash…. de l'argent de poche.

"How much did you sell it for?" I began, as soon as our cordon-bleu returned to the kitchen.



Jean-Marc and Mom at the brasero. Look at all the room for trays and plates. Scroll to see a picture of the wine barrel, below.

"210 euros."

"210?"

"Yes, they asked for a discount."

"Ah. What exactly did they say?"

"Que c'est de bonne guerre de négocier.” That it’s fair game to negotiate.

C'est de bonne guerre de négocier... I'm filing away that phrase! It will come in handy next time my husband asks to tax my dessert. He can have one small bite instead of the supersized spoonful that empties half the bowl. "C'est de bonne guerre de negocier!" I'll say, handing him a teaspoon. And if he protests, well, all’s fair in love and guerre!

Voilà, fellow French learner, as we’ve just seen, today's phrase is every bit as useful when negotiating a loss. Bye for now and see you next week for another anecdote on this French life. Until then remember: tout se négocie. Everything's negotiable...even ice cream!

Bon appétit,

Kristi
P.S. My husband did finally hand over my "tax": a 50 euro bill! Can you guess where he put it?

REMERCIEMENTS
To the following readers who this past week sent in a blog donation or purchased our online memoir, your contribution towards publishing this blog is the key to its longevity! I am sincerely grateful for your support. Merci beaucoup! --Kristi

Tim A.
Fred. G.
Laura R.
Pamela R.
Natalie A.
Micheline J.
Jessah Lee Y.
Robbie-Lane J.
Natalia, Rod, & Mignons

FRENCH VOCABULARY 

Click here to listen to Jean-Marc and me pronounce the French and English below

la friperie = secondhand clothes shop
marchander = to haggle, to negotiate, to bargain
Le Boncoin ("le bon coin") = "the good corner" - a classified ads similar to Craigslist
le cordon-bleu = master chef
l'acquéreur, l'acquéreuse = the buyer
la belle-soeur = sister-in-law
en fer = made of metal 
la cuve = the bowl
la barrique = wine barrel
la vente = sale
le balai vapeur = steam mop
le type = guy, dude, bloke
le climatiseur = air conditioning unit
parler de tout et de rien = talk about anything and everything 
embêter mon mari = bug my husband
les affaires sont les affaires = business is business
une taxe = a tax
l'argent de poche = pocket money
C'est de bonne guerre de négocier = it’s fair game to bargain
tout se négocie = everything is negociable 

Smokey keeping cool beside the brasero. It's been one year since our sweet golden retriever passed away. We are lucky to have had him since birth, for almost 13 years together. Fur-ever in our hearts, Smokey Dokey!


Remember, everything is negociable--even ice cream. Smokey, I hope you're getting lots of "frosty paws" in heaven.

COMMENTS
To comment on today's post, click here. Thanks in advance for your shares, your feedback, and for any corrections to this edition.