FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

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.

Look up! Surround yourself with color! (Two ways to combat the blues.) Picture of a "decorated" clothesline taken in Cassis.

TODAY’S WORD: à fleur de peau

    : hypersensitive    
    : on/under the surface of the skin

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

I woke up this morning with a tinge of the blues. In French, they call it le cafard, a condition I’m not too familiar with—anxiety being my usual companion—mais ça arrive. The elusive feeling came on suddenly and, like a drop of dye in a glass of water, it is slowly spreading, clouding my environment.

I have not read Charles Baudelaire's Les Fleurs du Mal but it introduced the concept of le cafard, or those dark thoughts that can invade the mind, much like how cockroaches infest a house. Those repugnant beetles are ugly, icky, and even a bit sticky, which is how heavy feelings are, too. J’ai le cafard literally means I have the cockroach.

Have you noticed how la déprime is tangible? The blues share something in common with un bleu (a bruise); both are physical. They reside just beneath or on the surface of the skin, à fleur de peau (what a lovely expression, but that is as poetic and as French as depression gets. Le cafard is universal, articulate only in retrospect).

As much as we wish this clingy sentiment would flee, it may be there to teach you and me. Quelle est la leçon? Could it be about understanding others with depression, recognizing when to slow down, or acknowledging the need for connection? Perhaps this lull I feel after last week’s full house—Max and Ana are back at the apartment, and Jean-Marc is away—helps me realize that I may not enjoy being alone as much as I thought. 

Allez, Ricci! On y va! My dog and I go for a walk to try to shake things off, but it only makes me aware of my thoughts: Dois-je prendre des antidépresseurs? Would medication make me lazy or unproductive? Could that be a good thing? No! I realize I feel better when I’m engaged in work. Don’t we all? Just last night, my daughter expressed doubts about her upcoming two-week break before she begins her master's program. She knows herself well and finds that she’s happiest—or at least less depressed—when busy.

It all seems to boil down to staying occupied, or, rather, staying engaged. Even the folks in Paris struggle with Metro-Boulot-Dodo—or the monotonous cycle of “commute-work-sleep”—another form of depression born from repetitive routine. While my own die-hard routine may be contributing to these low-grade feelings, working through this story today has kept me engaged and, as we near the end, it feels like an achievement. Finishing something, whether a morning walk or a letter to a friend, brings a sense of relief. It may be a fleeting high, but right now, I'm happy to report, there’s not a cafard in sight!

***

Ricci and a squash plant that grew out of the compost. It’s exciting to see the butternuts forming, but they keep withering and dying off. For now we will have to enjoy the pretty vine and its giant yellow blossoms.

COMMENTS
I realized halfway through this post that I have shared some version of this letter, on occasion, in the past. Writing about the blues is one way of coping with it. Can you list other ways to find relief from a low mood?  What do you do when you have “the cockroach”? Share your thoughts here in the comments box.

FRENCH VOCABULARY 

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

le cafard = depression 
mais ça arrive = but it happens
Les Fleurs du Mal = The Flowers of Evil
J’ai le cafard = I’m depressed
la déprime = depression 
un bleu = a bruise
à fleur de peau = under/on the surface of the skin
Quelle est la leçon? = What is the lesson
Allez, Ricci! On y va! = Come on, Ricci! Let's go!
Dois-je prendre des antidépresseurs? = Should I take antidepressants?
metro-boulot-dodo = the daily grind

Lots of color in nearby Cassis

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

Cyndi M.
Susan B.
Michele C.
Maureen M.

Love reading all your posts! Can’t wait to get back. --Cyndi M.

Bonjour Kristi ! Thanks for sharing your life with us! You inspire me. --Maureen M.

I've read your stories since we lived in Paris in 2004-05. You've had a talent for adjusting to the changing realities of blogging, and I've enjoyed your writing, honesty, and clever sensibility to that bilingual life. --Susan B.

Ricci and me at a local beach, early in the morning. Dogs are allowed here at les roches plates, or flat rocks, and the cool water is a relief in this heatwave.

The heatwave, my book project, and spoiled for choice in today's update. A lot of ice cream to choose from = l'embarras du choix. Pictured in La Ciotat: one (of many) ice cream vendors in our seaside town.

TODAY’S WORD: L'Embarras du Choix

    : spoiled for choice

avoir l'embarras du choix (to have "the embarrassment of choice") = to be indecisive in a situation where multiple choices are presented.

The first posts in this blog are collected into one book Words in a French Life: Lessons in Love & Language from the South of France. "With its innovative and entertaining way of teaching the finer points of French, Espinasse's memoir will be popular with travelers and expats alike." -- Publishers Weekly

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

When I asked readers to help choose a cover design for my book, the response was spectaculaire. Thank you for scrutinizing all eight couvertures, for voting, and for commenting on the title and graphics. I learned so much from your feedback, and now I’m as confused as ever.

Just kidding. Je rigole! I can handle it. Jé gère!

One thing I wasn't managing so well is people. You see, I also asked for volunteers to proofread my work, and the response knocked my socks off. It was, as the French say, l’embarras du choix: a situation where so many good options make it difficult, if not impossible, to choose. And when these options are people—instead of, say, so many parfums at the ice cream stand—it’s hard to pick just one.

As I lay beneath our noisy ceiling fan, sweating and fretting about my book and beyond (“beyond” meaning my home and family, my dog, this current heatwave, and le ménage) I felt dépassée by it all. With my son renting out his apartment on Airbnb and moving back home with his petite amie, we have a full house this first week of August. The downstairs bathroom is flooded with towels, four of us have colds, and this place feels like Animal House!

Meanwhile, over at Book Project Central (the little workstation I set up in our cramped cafouche, amidst the suitcases, the ironing board, and the vacuum), my phone began pinging nonstop as my Book Cover Poll on Facebook and Instagram delivered results in real-time. The social media feedback was manageable (I could “heart” every response to express thanks), but my inbox was expanding before my very eyes. How to kindly acknowledge all these emailed responses?

There was simply no way to keep up! Why not throw in the towel now? Speaking of which…

When one more ping had pung on my phone I opened Messenger to experience a much-needed chuckle. A picture of an orderly towel rack with a digitalized name tag over each serviette! Géniale! Merci, Max, for civilizing the towel situation! After washing and line-drying our towels, my son defrosted our icy freezer, emptied the vacuum cleaner, and scrubbed the filter before asking "What else can I do for you?" And just like that, help, like the cold virus we all caught, was now spreading rapidly! Jean-Marc took Grandma to the grocery store, Jackie brought two big salads home for dinner, Ana set the table, Grandma Jules was in charge of watering the garden, Ricci & Izzy were keeping the floors licked clean, and so on and so forth et cetera pantoufle!

(Have I told you about my favorite, totally obsolete and nonsensical French expression etcetera pantoufle--"and so on slipper"? Finally, the chance to use it here!)

Meanwhile, I began to answer emails when a new stream of feedback flooded my phone screen: readers were pointing out un petit souci with the title of my memoir, which included the year these essays were written. “Don’t put 2024. This would date the book!” Whoops! I’d forgotten to mention this is a book series. I am gathering each year’s stories into a collection under the umbrella title “A YEAR IN A FRENCH LIFE.” This first book would be “A YEAR IN A FRENCH LIFE: 2024.” The next would be “A YEAR IN A FRENCH LIFE: 2025,” et cetera pantoufle…

Book covers by TLC Book Design

But I now see your point. Including the date might deter potential readers. One solution might be to use one of the chapter titles as the subtitle. For example: “A YEAR IN A FRENCH LIFE: L’Embarras du Choix.” Can you picture this now? While “spoiled for choice” doesn’t exactly summarize the 2024 stories, it is a catchy way to distinguish between the editions, n’est-ce pas? Another chapter in this book is “Il devait en être ainsi” (or “Predestined”… Tell me if that doesn’t sound intriguing!). Other chapters/potential subtitles include:

• “Le Bonheur” (“Happiness”)
• “Bien Joué” (“Well Done!”)
• “Jamais Deux Sans Trois” (“Good things come in Threes.” However, it can also mean “Bad Things Come in Threes.” This title might not be good for marketing…)

Even with some of the pieces of this project coming together, I tossed and turned all weekend despite trying to focus on the Olympics. During judo, l'escrime, and pole-vaulting, my mind chattered on and on: I must answer all these emails! I’ve got to send off my manuscript… but to whom? Suddenly, all these potential volunteers posed a logistical conundrum: how would each reader record their edits? (In Microsoft Word there is some sort of “live” option, where editors can go right into the document and correct or change text. But isn’t that risky? And what would it be like to receive an influx of live edits from dozens of readers? I could just see my manuscript pole-vaulting all over the place with each added edit!)

As I agonized over how to orchestrate this book project, the word surrender swooped in, once again, to offer relief. Surrender ...a theme visited every so often in this journal: literally se rendre. It means to be still and let the doubts, fears, and unknowns wash right over, like a cool stream of melted ice cream during a heatwave. Surrendering takes faith and practice—a lot of both—but it is as vital as ice cream (according to Grandma Jules, who brought back a little too much of it from the grocery store...). We must trust that when we let go everything will eventually come together, things will get done, and we will show up on time. By surrendering here and now we allow the help at hand—whether divine or, like my readers, sublime—to manifest. Finally, we have stepped out of the way to find ourselves in the midst of grace.

***

Update: Please join me in wishing Rajeev, a dedicated reader and loyal supporter, bon courage as he begins his role as the first volunteer proofreader. When I sent him the manuscript link, Rajeev promptly suggested a solution for sharing edits, which immediately resolved a technical issue I was struggling with. Merci, Rajeev!

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

After my son washed and organized our towels he sent me this humorous photo. Now if all family members would stick to the plan! (My own towel is hidden upstairs, as I don't like to share towels, toothbrushes, hairbrushes, bathrobes, or some of the other things I sometimes find missing!)

My new office is in a room beside our upstairs bedroom. Too small to be a bedroom, this spare room quickly became a “cafouche”—a storage area filled mostly with my stuff and an armoire for Jean-Marc’s clothes. When our house filled up this month, I quickly cleared out enough space here to set up my computer. I used to write at the kitchen table, but with a full house, it's easier to concentrate up here. Now to find a home for the suitcases, vacuum and ironing board. Does anyone iron anymore?

Jean-Marc with Izzy (Ana’s dog) and Ricci, on their way to cool off in the sea.

FRENCH VOCABULARY

Click here to listen to Jean-Marc pronounce the French and English vocabulary (2)

l'embarras du choix = too many good options
la couverture (du livre) = (book) covers
je rigole = just kidding
je gère = I can handle it
le parfum = flavor
le ménage = household chores
dépassée = overwhelmed
la petite amie = girlfriend
le cafouche = storage room
la serviette = towel
géniale = brilliant
ça y est = that's it
et cetera pantoufle = and so on and so forth (obsolete phrase)
un petit souci = a little issue
le bonheur = happiness
bien joué = well done
jamais deux sans trois = good (or bad) things come in threes
l'escrime = fencing
se rendre = to surrender
bon courage = good luck
merci = thank you

REMERCIEMENTS
Sincere appreciation to the following readers who recently sent in a blog donation. Merci beaucoup! --Kristi

Kurt B.
Roisin L.
Marjory T.
Laura I. & Jim A.

Merci pour votre blog! I always enjoy reading it. Amitié, Marjory

Jules & Jean-Marc. My mom and her beau-fils are true complices, or "partners in crime" (if it is a crime to eat a lot of ice cream)!

The secret to staying the course (or completing a book project) is taking breaks. I enjoyed an early morning coffee with Max and Jackie here at KS 13--a beachfront restaurant where my daughter worked a few summers ago. It's super busy during the day, with people renting "transats" or sun chairs, and having lunch, but in the morning it is serene.

If, from here on out, you see a photo in my blog that would make a nice book cover, would you please let me know? Merci! This image was taken a few weeks ago in Cassis.


Ricci, keeping cool on the tile floors. 

HELP CHOOSE A BOOK COVER
I'm excited to share the cover designs for my upcoming book. Please take a close look and let me know which numbered cover you prefer: comment via this link. Thank you for your feedback and don't miss today's story, just below. (Cover designs by Monica at TLC Book Design)

Or go directly to the poll page, where you will see the book covers up close and you can vote.

TODAY'S WORD: GALÉRER

    : to struggle, have trouble

"Les galères font le galérien." --Victor Hugo
(Difficult times create resilient people.)

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

I have been trying to gather these stories you are reading into a book for years—ever since my last compilation was published a decade ago. You'd think it would be simple to pull together some blog entries, paste them into a manuscript, and—abracadabra—upload them to Amazon's Print On Demand. After all, there are so many tools and support systems available for indie publishers. But, after struggle upon struggle--après avoir bien galéré--I realized I couldn't do this alone.

Back in 2003, as a newly-minted blogger, I managed to put these early billets into a manuscript, create a cover, and send the files off to "Instant Publisher" in the States. They printed the books and shipped them, 500 at a time, to me in France. In turn, I shipped them one by one and sometimes three by three (many of you graciously bought all three volumes) to readers worldwide. These little awkward editions (one was missing part of the title on its spine, and all three lacked proper interior formatting) were selling like hotcakes, and I was finally making a living as a writer--or at least helping to supplement my husband's income. I was now a stay-at-home mom with a vocation! My publishing gig might have continued even today if it weren't for an unexpected email from a "Big Five" éditeur...

It was a dream come true when Simon & Schuster professionally edited my essays into a hardbound book: "Words in a French Life." While the memoir did well, selling over 50,000 copies, it wasn't enough for the publisher to want to pursue a Volume 2. When my editor suggested fiction, I froze, having only ever written short essays. Allowing all my insecurities to come out and feast, I let my contract with a New York agent run out and I returned to what was "easiest" or most familiar to me: blogging. I made a few half-hearted attempts at printing more books but had lost my self-publishing mojo.

Several years later, a reader reached out, and I had the chance to work with Tami and Erin at TLC Book Design. It was exciting to see two more books published in 2009 and 2014! But after our déménagement from the vineyard, I floundered for a while. Then, in the beginning of 2024, fueled by the positive comments on the blog, the dream was rekindled. I realized part of the difficulty in gathering the stories was the overwhelming scope of it all: there were 22 years of archives to sort through! Finally, the thought came: Begin where you are. Just do your best with your current stories and enter them into the manuscript, one by one.

This decision helped me focus on the story at hand and stick to a narrative. As I worked, the title for the book surfaced naturally:

"A YEAR IN A FRENCH LIFE"

Finally, this title sounded right, given the book is based on this column "A Day in a French Life." With these pieces of the puzzle in place, I was off and running! Well, until the formatting woes, cover conundrums, etc., drained me, and the doubts returned. A quoi bon? Why bother making a book when it's so much easier to just keep blogging? As long as I kept mumbling "A quoi bon?" I was stuck.

Last week, I was ready to give up altogether when my sister Heidi called. Within minutes, she assured me it would all come together. "Keep at it!"

Once again, the message is: cela aussi passera. This doubtful moment will pass. There will be others, but they will pass as well. The next day, I was back at my manuscript, and things were looking clearer. This overwhelming project felt faisable. Around this time, I received a series of book cover options from TLC Book Designs, who I'm pleased to be working with again. "A YEAR IN A FRENCH LIFE" will be published in 2025, and though I'm only halfway through the manuscript, I trust I'll make it to the finish, with the help of faith, friends, and family. While I may like to do things on my own, experience is showing me that life is better together.

I leave you with the second most beautiful verb in the world, according to peace activist and novelist Bertha von Suttner:

"Après le verbe 'aimer', 'aider' est le plus beau verbe du monde." "After the verb 'to love', 'to help' is the most beautiful verb in the world."

Post Note: As for the nagging question "A quoi bon? or Why bother" Here is one good reason: Because if we don't pursue our goals, they will bother us until we do! I suppose that is the reason I write.

LOOKING FOR BETA-READERS
I am looking for volunteers to read the first half of my manuscript and report any typos or mistakes. If you are comfortable reading 187 pages in Microsoft Word and good at spotting errors in French and English, thank you for contacting me at [email protected]

Some of the first books I self-published. The yellow book is the Simon & Schuster edition. Three more books are not pictured, as this photo was taken before they were published.

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

FRENCH VOCABULARY

Listen to Jean-Marc pronounce these French terms. Click here

galérer = to struggle, have trouble

Les galères font galérien = Difficult times create resilient people.

après avoir bien galéré = after struggle upon struggle

un billet = blog post

un éditeur = publisher

déménagement = move

A quoi bon? = Why bother?

cela aussi passera = this too shall pass

faisable = feasible

Après le verbe 'aimer', 'aider' est le plus beau verbe du monde. = After the verb 'to love', 'to help' is the most beautiful verb in the world.

REMERCIEMENTS
Sincere appreciation to the following readers who recently sent in a blog donation. Merci beaucoup! --Kristi

Lo S.
Ron C.
Joan S.
Tom D.
Fred G.
Lynn R.
John M.
Linda A.
Brenda P.
Kathryn H.
Rob and Pat W.

Kristi, your beautiful posts are a delight! Merci beaucoup! --Linda A.

Kristi, sending you tons of gratitude and well wishes! Retired and looking forward to visiting France in the next few years! --Ron

Mother-Daughter lunch In Cassis at Le Grand Large. Our girls, Jackie, left, and Josie, right really hit it off. I met Jennifer, center-right over 15 years ago, when we both were blogging about family life. Jennifer's blog, Diary of 1 is no longer on line, but if she ever starts another journal I will let you know.

Posing with artists from Capetown, South Africa and London, UK. Sisters Anna Morris (photographer) and Julia Godsiff (sculptor) came to visit La Ciotat after reading my journal and ended up in an Airbnb right next to my church. Over Perrier spiked with orange juice we talked about the creative life, entering into “the zone” and the need to set boundaries at home in order to be able to write or paint or sculpt. Julia, right, shared some words from Virginia Woolf: “You’ve got to kill the angel in the house.” I left our meetup inspired and with plans to set my noisy family straight. Indeed, No more Mrs. Nice Guy! Just kidding. The truth is Life is messy and it will always come kicking and screaming into your creative zone. Instead of killing the angel of the house, we need to let life trample all over us and be imprinted with its passionate passage. After all, what would there be to say, sculpt, or paint if life didn’t get in the way?

My Notes. Scrolling through a manuscript of 187 pages can be confusing. I finally grabbed an envelope and came up with a rough system to track things: had I included a photo with each chapter? were all French words italicized? Did the chapters have numbers? These are only a few considerations but they help in the initial run-through! Thank you for reading and don't forget to take the poll for the best book cover.