se maquiller

Flowers for Maman (c) Kristin Espinasse
Our little girl is growing up... and writing her own anecdotes! Read Jackie's story ("Ma Routine") and mille mercis to our Francophone friend Newforest (whom many of you know from Le Coin Commentaires) for helping with corrections and suggestions. P.S.: The picture above was taken when Jackie was 7... and lagging behind on a field trip... in time to cueillir quelques fleurs

se maquiller (seuh ma kee ay) verb

    : to put on makeup

le maquillage = makeup
le maquilleur (la maquilleuse) = makeup artist 

Example sentence:
Selon vous, à partir de quel âge une fille peut-elle commencer à se maquiller pour aller en cours? In your opinion, from what age can a girl begin to wear makeup to class?

.
Ma Routine
… par Jackie Espinasse, 13 ans

(Note: to read our daughter's story in English, skip to Le Coin Commentaires, where I have offered my translation... corrections are welcome in the comments box.)

Le matin je me lève entre sept heures et sept heures dix. C’est ma mère qui est obligée de me réveiller, car à cette heure-là, je suis encore trop fatiguée pour ouvrir les yeux et sortir du lit ! Elle m’oblige à me lever, car il faut bien que j’aille au collège.

Quand je me lève, mon premier réflexe c’est de regarder à la petite fenêtre de mon couloir pour voir quel temps il fait dehors. Ensuite, je descends les escaliers, et je vois mes chiens qui sont toujours excités à cette heure-là car ils veulent que je leur donne leur petit déjeuner.

Alors, je leur sers à manger, puis, après, je mange, tout en étant à moitié endormie.

Capture plein écran 11032011 085256Quand j’ai fini de manger, je monte dans ma chambre, j’allume la radio, et je m’habille tout en écoutant de la musique. Puis je me coiffe et, en me coiffant, je me pose toujours cette même question: « Pourquoi mes parents ne veulent-ils pas que je me maquille ? » Moi, personnellement, je n’aime pas mon visage quand il est sans fond de teint, sans crayon noir, sans liner, et sans mascara ! Pour ma part, je trouve ça triste que mes parents me privent de maquillage pour aller au collège car, en plus de ça, c’est mon maquillage que j’ai payé moi-même, avec mon argent de poche!

« A tous les lecteurs » :
Pouvez-vous, s’il vous plaît, dire à mes parents que c’est injuste ?

Mais bon, bref, après cette petite routine matinale, je me brosse les dents, et finalement, vers huit heures dix, Maman me conduit en voiture au collège.

Et voilà.

P.S. : Je n’aime pas le collège !

 Le Coin Commentaires
To respond to Jackie's story or to leave her a message click here. You will also find the English translation here.

Have a second for another short-short story? Please read "Fille"

 

P1000470-3

(Smokey) Boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing (c) Kristin Espinasse
This picture of Mama Braise (left) and Smokey desperately needs a thought bubble or a speech balloon. Your ideas are welcome in the comments box. (Put your mouse over the photo for mine) Merci d'avance!

Check out Vivian Swift's book...

Capture plein écran 11032011 093941

 When Wanderers Cease to Roam...

  A charming, illustrated celebration of puttering, doodling, daydreaming, and settling down after years on the roadOrder a copy 

Ongoing support from readers like you helps me to continue this French word journal, now in its 18th year! If you enjoy and look forward to these posts and want to give something back, please know your contribution makes a difference! A donation by check or via PayPal is greatly appreciated.
 
♥ Contribute $10    
♥ Contribute $25    
♥ Contribute the amount of your choice


beurre

DSC_0308
Jackie. This is my daughter and she tells the best stories, just like her grand-mère, Jules. (photo taken in 2010)

"It is a delicious thing to write, to be no longer yourself but to move in an entire universe of your own creating. Today, for instance, as man and woman, both lover and mistress, I rode in a forest on an autumn afternoon under the yellow leaves, and I was also the horse, the leaves, the wind, the words that my people uttered, even the red sun that made them almost close their love-drowned eyes."

-Gustave Flaubert (thanks to Jim Fergus for sending me this favorite quote!)


le beurre (bur) noun, masculine

    : butter

Please jump right in and share your butter/"beurre" terms and expressions here. I'll begin...

beurré(e) = plastered
avoir un oeil au beurre noir = to have a black eye
le beurre de cacahouètes = peanut butter
(your turn. Get out your dictionary then click here and share beurre terms and idioms)

Audio File : Listen to the following sentence: Download MP3 or Download Wav

Il était une fois un philosophe qui aimait les jeux de mots. Il appelait, par exemple, le butterfly: le beurre qui vole. (translation below)

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


(On the Origins of Flying Butter)
 
This morning my daughter scrubbed down, head to toes, with Betadine. Next, she said she was hungry but did not eat, nor did she drink so much as a drop of water.

We were running late to the Clinic de Provence after Jackie took extra care with her hair, blow drying it, straightening it, exercising all her control over it. Finally she shut off the sèche-cheveux, and voiced her little heart out: "J'ai peur, Maman."

"Did you take off all of your nail polish and jewelry?" the nurse quizzed.

"Oui," Jackie replied. Next, my 12-year-old was given a pill that made her eyes droop until she turned over in the hospital bed, from her back onto her side.

I wanted to brush my hands across her face, but wondered about the iodine/detergent surgical scrub that she had showered with earlier. Would I just be putting germs back on her face? My hand reached for her hair, instead.

"Can you remind me of the story you told me last night?" I asked my girl. "About the butterfly...."

My daughter nodded her sleepy head and said...

Il était une fois un philosophe qui aimait les jeux de mots.... Il adorait aussi les butterflies dont il renommé "Le Beurre Qui Vole"...

Once upon a time there was a philosopher who loved to play with words. He also loved butterflies which he renamed "flying butters"...


As Jackie told me her story my mind wandered back to the simple surgery: only two teeth to remove. But why the need for an anesthesiologist? Why put her completely to sleep—was it necessary? Couldn't we have waited for the teeth to grow and push past the gums before having them extracted?

The door to room 103 burst open and two infirmières collected my daughter, as one collects an umbrella while rushing out the door, late for work. I wanted to shout "be careful!" Instead, I stepped out of the nurses' way.

As the gurney careened down the hallway on the way to the bloc opératoire, I overheard one of the nurses assure my daughter, "Ce n'est rien". Just a little operation. With that the trio disappeared into a sterile chamber.

As I stood there staring at the empty hall, a little old man in a bathrobe hobbled by, slowly, softly, like a butterfly.


Butterfly in france

 

French Demystified...simple enough for a beginner but challenging enough for a more advanced student.


I Know How To Cook The bible of French home cooking, Je Sais Cuisiner, has sold over 6 million copies since it was first published in 1932. It is a household must-have, and a well-thumbed copy can be found in kitchens throughout France. Its author, Ginette Mathiot, published more than 30 recipe books in her lifetime, and this is her magnum opus. It's now available for the first time in English as I Know How to Cook. With more than 1,400 easy-to-follow recipes for every occasion, it is an authoritative compendium of every classic French dish, from croque monsieur to cassoulet.

***

Still itching for stories from France? You will ADORE Lynn McBride's blog It’s called Southern Fried French (www.southernfriedfrench.com) and it’s about living the good life at the 14th century Château de Balleure, with her friends  and chatelains Nicole and Pierre.

 

Ongoing support from readers like you helps me to continue this French word journal, now in its 18th year! If you enjoy and look forward to these posts and want to give something back, please know your contribution makes a difference! A donation by check or via PayPal is greatly appreciated.
 
♥ Contribute $10    
♥ Contribute $25    
♥ Contribute the amount of your choice


fille

Boulangerie (c) Kristin Espinasse
A bakery in the town of Camaret sur Aigues, in the heart of Provence.

 
fille (fee) noun, feminine
.    
 : daughter

Telle mère, telle fille.

Like mother, like daughter.

                            --Ezekiel


Audio File:

Listen to the French word "fille" and the above quote: Download mp3 . Download wav


A Day in a French Life...

by Kristin Espinasse

            (We Three: my daughter, my mom, and I)

At ten-years-old:
I liked motorcycles and baseball.
My daughter likes mascara and karaoke.

We both loved swimming...

I liked to wake up at the crack of dawn.
She loves to sleep in late.

I loved frogs.
She likes ladybugs.

I was round.
She's a stick.

I ate tacos.
She eats tapenade.

When I lied, my face turned crimson.
When she lies, hers turns convincing.

I collected desert wildflowers and gave them to the neighbors.
Jackie fancies bamboo, has a carnivorous plant, and is giving in other ways.

I was once called a bible beater and went and hid.
She got called "Blond!" once and was livid.

My daughter speaks in French and in English.
I spoke in English and in Tongues.

She has a godmother and a godfather.
I had a mafia of angels.

Jackie's great-grandmother and her grandmother were Catholic and Atheist, respectively. Mine were Mormon and Jack Mormon, respectively.

Jackie's table trick is to eat the eyes right out of the fish on her plate. She
learned this from her great-grandmother, a French woman who survived WWII. My trick was a disappearing act involving any food placed in front of me (except fish eyes). I learned this from my American grandmother, an excellent cook, who smoked her morning cigarette in the trailer's "salon" and called everyone "Hon".

Jackie's mom has healthcare and a mutual.
My own mom had a mutual agreement with my sister and me: what you say is what you get and whatever you say Don't Say You're Sick!

I really, really wanted a live-in dad.
Jackie really, really wants a horse; she already has a Father Hen.

When my mom got mad at a man, she moved on, took her kids with her.
When Jackie's mom gets mad at her man, she throws (virtual) plates, then meditates.

Jackie's mom is over-serious, over-sensitive, and over-anxious.
My own mom was over-generous and, sometimes, over-the-top.

Mom let me dig up the back yard once. "What the hell, let her make a pool."
Jackie's mom is a control freak, doesn't cuss.

I had a sister who was prettier than I.
Jackie looks like her.

At my daughter's age, I once started a fire in the field behind our trailer park, almost making homeless our neighbors, mostly retirees. I admitted this to Jackie (on confiscating a lighter!), who wanted to know whether I ever told my parents. (Mom, Dad: are you reading?)

I had a crush on Doug Pearson from kindergarten through eighth grade. He had dimples, or fossettes, and did a mean impression of Gene Simmons: fake blood, black eye-liner, and all.
Jackie's heart is faithful to horses: four-legged rock-stars each and every one.

I automatically pledged allegiance to the flag.
My daughter questions whether Sarkozy will keep his promises.

Jackie and her mom wear the same shoe size: 7.5
My own mom is one size smaller, though she is larger than life.

I was a real softie, though my daughter is really not so tough as she thinks she is. (Perhaps we are not so different after all?) And, every once in a while, I catch myself following in my mom's leopard-patterned, untamed tracks. Secretly, it comes as a relief: to free-up the over-serious, under-the-countertop, once carefree fille.*

                                               *    *     *
Note: this story was written over a year ago, when my daughter was ten. She turned twelve today. As for Jules, you'll have to ask her her age. Birthday wishes are welcome in the comments box. Merci beaucoup!

Waterpark Lorgues 015

My mom, Jules, in 2003 (after her first mastectomy!). That's Jackie on the left.




Puppies and Harvesters

DSC_0023Jacqui, Kristin, Pamela and the pups.

Note: there are now three "Jackies" here at our farm: my daughter, American Jacqui (pictured here) and Scottish Jackie.

Salut from Sainte Cécile, where the sky is pouring down rain and our harvesters are braving the muddy grape bog below. The heavens are howling; between grumbles, the sky spits fire helter skelter across the Provençal paysage.

I am waiting for the soaked soldiers to return, waiting with a pile of towels, hot coffee and Nutella...

***

Update: (one hour later...) the harvest continues beneath the still streaming sky. I hear howling in the distance, only, this time, it isn't coming from the heavens....

"Boot camp!" that's what Mom used to call harvest time. The harvesters might call it GRAPE CAMP!

The following edition is in honor of my Mom's and my daughter's birthday (September 23rd and 18th, respectively). Joyeux Anniversaire Jules and Jackie! Je vous aime.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Shopping~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

French Wooden Alphabet Blocks for kids. Makes a great baby gift.

Urban Crayon Paris: The City Guide for Parents with Children

My French Coach by Nintendo. Playing My French Coach for 15 to 20 minutes a day is all you need to become fluent in French, no matter your age. The simple touch screen interface lets you spend less time learning the game and more time learning French.

Streetwise Paris Laminated City Center Street Map

Ongoing support from readers like you helps me to continue this French word journal, now in its 18th year! If you enjoy and look forward to these posts and want to give something back, please know your contribution makes a difference! A donation by check or via PayPal is greatly appreciated.
 
♥ Contribute $10    
♥ Contribute $25    
♥ Contribute the amount of your choice


une roue

Cartable or French schoolbag (c) Kristin Espinasse
Back to School or la rentrée. Max and Jackie in 2004, at our old home in Les Arcs-sur-Argens

une roue
(roo) noun, feminine
1. a wheel

la grande roue = the Ferris wheel
une roue dentée = a cogwheel
un bateau à roues = a paddle boat
véhicule à deux/quatre roues = two-/four-wheeled vehicles
une roue de secours = a spare wheel or tire
une roue de transmission = a driving wheel
la roue de la Fortune = the wheel of Fortune
la cinquième roue du carosse = an entirely useless person, thing

Expressions:
être en roue libre = to freewheel, to coast
pousser à la roue = to lend a helping hand
se mettre en roue libre = (fig.) to take it easy, to do as one likes
faire la roue = to do a cartwheel, (also) to strut about, to swagger; to spread its tail (peacock)

Le succès est comme une grande roue; on ne peut vraiment apprécier la vue que l'on a d'en haut que si l'on redescend quelques fois. Success is like a Ferris wheel; we can only really appreciate the view that we have from up high if we come down a few times. --Yvon Deveault


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


Six-year-old Jackie is already asking for wheels! Put-putting along the autoroute in our micro car, Jackie shrieks when a cherry red sports car whizzes by:

"Ooh là là! Une FAY-RAR-EE!"

"No, Jackie, that isn't a Ferrari. That is a Toyota!" her brother insists.

My daughter has been hounding me for wheels for some time now. To be clear, she is only asking for two wheels (and not the kind you see spinning under French teens as they speed through the village, zig-zagging through traffic). The wheels Jackie longs for are attached to a hefty, multi-pocketed cartable.

I don't blame my daughter for wanting wheels on her schoolbag—you should see the amount of books she has to carry home each day! After one year of yearning for such a schoolbag-sur-roulettes, her wish was granted. Thursday morning she gingerly wheeled her new bag into the schoolyard....

Soon enough she discovered that the cartable à roulettes wasn't so easy to navigate through the hordes of bag-encumbered élèves. So she pushed in the collapsible handlebar, hoisted the bag onto her back, and threaded her way through traffic to class.

This morning at breakfast she inquired about graduating to four wheels. "Maman," she began, "quand je serai grande, tu m'achèteras une voiture?"  I'd better start stashing euros aside now. The good news is I'll have an extra year to save as French teens don't start driving solo until they are dix-sept years old.  

French Vocabulary

une autoroute
(f) = a motorway

fay-rar-ee = pronunciation for Ferrari

un cartable (m) = schoolbag

une roulette = a small wheel

une élève (f) = a student

maman (f) = a mother

dix-sept ans = seventeen

Wheels
Update: Jackie, 5 years after this story was written... The wheels get bigger every year. Soon she'll be driving.

Ongoing support from readers like you helps me to continue this French word journal, now in its 18th year! If you enjoy and look forward to these posts and want to give something back, please know your contribution makes a difference! A donation by check or via PayPal is greatly appreciated.
 
♥ Contribute $10    
♥ Contribute $25    
♥ Contribute the amount of your choice