FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

The curtain is now opening on today's pièce: a feisty (and sentimental) mother-daughter story. My mom loved these circus curtains, seen on a recent walk together. Jules sewed our dresses when my sister and I were little, and these rideaux remind me of our visits to the fabric store.  

TODAY’S WORD: "Avoir du cran"

    :  to have guts, grit, to be brave

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

Do you believe that our behavior can provoke the universe? I can't help but wonder when, hours before her eye exam, Mom appears in my room and declares, "I do not want any more doctor's appointments!"...only to be issued, hours later, a slew of new rendez-vous.

Whether or not our conduct stirs the Powers That Be, it moves mere mortals. Not sure how to respond to my mom (or how to deal with the let-down), I choose to reason with her: “But Mom, how many doctor visits have you had in the last year?” I challenge, knowing well we’ve not suffered more than a handful--one or two times to the family toubib, to renew a prescription, and two aller-retours to the ophtalmo after severe pain revealed too much pressure in Mom's eye. But never mind the facts, Jules's mind was made up.

"I'm not going!"

"Mom!  We can't cancel. We're going!"

Sensing some sort of diatribe on my part, Jules quietly exits, shutting the door behind her, against which I unleash a string of gros mots: @#%!! @#%!! @#%!! 

Well, that got her attention. Mom returns. We exchange stubborn looks. I offer an I'm sorry but...!

I'm sorry but do you realise I've arranged my day around this eye exam?
I'm sorry but do you know how hard it is to get a doctor's appointment anymore?
I'm sorry but I am the one handling your healthcare as you don't speak French or drive!

Suddenly, Mom approaches the bed to sit beside me. After a few deep breaths, we are on a walk down memory lane as visions of our life back at the trailer park come flooding forth--including the time Jules tossed our toys out the window after my sister's and my roughhousing damaged our family’s new bean bag, spilling les haricots all over the living room. Mom had her gros mot moments @#%!! but who could blame her as she struggled to raise two girls on her own while working full-time? And yet somehow this single mother managed. Even more, Mom signed us up for Brownies, Girl Scouts, gymnastics, and band, and somehow managed to buy everything from my clarinet to my sister's first car. When my sister had a car accident Mom nursed her back to life and made Heidi return to school to finish the year, despite the scars from several broken bones, in time to go on to college. Heidi became the first one in Jules’s family to graduate from college, and with a degree in journalism! Meantime Jules's worries weren't over: her youngest (moi-même) dropped out of community college and returned home. (I eventually followed in my sister’s footsteps, graduating from college with a degree in French, and began writing after moving to France.)


My sister's 1970 Camaro in front of our home. That's Shaw Butte Mountain in the background.

"All I want now is peace and quiet," Mom admits, as we sit in bed holding hands, hours before her doctor's appointment. "I am so grateful to live here with you and not to have to worry any longer."

Turning to Mom, I would like to say I understand the struggle and that, at 56, I'm tired too! But one must press on! Only, unlike Mom, I have not been worn down from the stress of trying to pay for ice skates, braces, or clothes at the beginning of each school year. Through it all, we never received the admonition, “Money doesn’t grow on trees!” Instead, Jules instilled a work ethic that had my sister and me earning first an allowance, then cash from babysitting and a paper route, and finally our first paycheck jobs by the age of 15.

"And now here we are in France!" Mom whispers, squeezing my hand. It never ceases to amaze Mom that she is living on the Riviera after surviving in the desert. (Our neighborhood was a senior citizen mobile home park, but Mom convinced the landlord to let us in as she was first to rent a space when it opened. We stayed 11 years. Before it was demolished, we moved on, and Mom eventually settled into a beautiful cabin near Saguaro Lake. Then to Mexico for 22 years before coming to live with us in France.)

“I am so proud of my daughters,” Mom says, turning to me. Jules has kindly forgotten my earlier slur of cuss words and a peaceful truce is once again underway. This wasn’t the first and won’t be our last mother-daughter fender-bender, but we have acquired some tools to hammer out the dents along the way--our shared vulnerability being one of them. Another is forgiveness. Finally, there's grit--the French call it "le cran". Indeed it takes courage and endurance to love and to keep on loving. I love you, Mom. This one's for you. xoxo

***
Update: we made it to the doctor's appointment in time for Mom’s follow-up eye exam. The good news is her eye pressure has stabilized. But she now has to undergo a series of shots to treat the edema, or swelling, inside her right oeil. For that, Jackie will drive her grandma to Marseilles. Wish Mom luck as the first eye injection is today!

A favorite picture of Mom taken from the post "Conciliabule: Living With Adult Kids and Grandma"


My beautiful Mom, in the doctor's waiting room, gazing out the window to the Mediterranean. I will always be moved by Mom's strength, courage, and perseverance in the face of so many challenges, beginning in her childhood. Elle a du cran! The French would say. She has guts!

FRENCH VOCABULARY 

Click to listen to Jean-Marc pronounce the French and English vocabulary words

avoir du cran = to be brave, to have guts
le rendez-vous = appointment, meeting
le toubib = doctor
aller-retour = round trip
l’ophtalmo = eye doctor
la diatribe = tirade, rant 
le gros mot= swear word, cuss word
l'oeil = eye
Elle a du cran = she has guts!
le conciliabule = secret meeting, Ecclesiastical council


Heidi, Mom, and me celebrating Heidi's college graduation from NAU, at Buster's Restaurant & Bar in Flagstaff, Arizona

REMERCIEMENTS/THANKS & ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
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Thank you for the wonderful newsletters! They are so well constructed and so much fun, supporting my learning to speak French and about French lifestyle and culture, too! I’m so appreciative that you do this. Also love your book! --Martha 

Photo of me and Mom admiring the circus curtains. If you have time, read the story of how my mom sowed the seeds of books (and writing) into my heart. Click here to read "Fireside" (Coin du Feu)

COMMENTS
Your corrections and comments are welcome and appreciated. Click here to leave a message. in the comments section at the end of this post.

An ancient hair-salon-turned-fashion boutique in Paris where you can buy a glittery 70s ensemble and more. Don't miss the sound file, near the end, with all the French vocabulary from this edition.

Follow me on Instagram or here on Facebook to ensure you are receiving the weekly posts (which don't always end up in your emails--owing to filters, a full inbox, and other issues beyond our control). Thanks for reading and on with the French word for the day... 

TODAY'S WORD: la coqueluche

    : heart-throb, pin-up, idol
    : whooping cough

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

"Mom, do you know the BeeGees?" My daughter called out as I was emptying le lave-vaisselle.

Jackie's statement was more of a memory jog than a question, for who doesn't know the BeeGees? Au fait, how did my youngest know of the Anglo-Australian trio?

"There's a song I can't stop playing. It's actually une reprise, but it led me to the original artists and I love them!" With that, Jackie launched YouTube on our living room's big screen. When next I glimpsed Barry Gibb glowing like Jesus, my conscience spent 30 seconds trying to disassociate the doppelgängers.

Barry Gibb in the Stayin Alive music video

Finally, I abandoned the half-emptied dishwasher and landed on the couch--to settle into an evening screening of 70s glam rock. 

Even more than our BeeGees video spree, I enjoyed the fresh commentary of a 25-year-old French girl, ma fille, viewing clips from the culture in which I grew up. After How Deep is Your Love (my daughter's favorite) and Staying Alive I asked Jackie to find an Andy Gibb clip. "He was the youngest brother--a teenage heartthrob and my first star crush!

La Coqueluche--The Heartthrob
A moment later I Just Want to be Your Everything came on the screen, sending me back to the days when I would buy TeenSomething magazine for the foldout wall poster of Andy. I also had his first album, on vinyl bien sûr, and a satin jacket/shorts combo my stepmother offered me before escorting 11-year-old me and my similarly-clad stepsister to an Andy Gibb concert! To this day that satin ensemble = my favorite outfit of all time (funnily, I can't remember the concert. Maybe it was all a dream?). 

While watching a repertoire of 70s glam rock music videos, including ABBA, Jackie sighed, "They dressed so elegantly back then." Funny. To me 70s fashion was kind of ugly. Now, on a closer look, I can see my daughter's point of view: for one, clothes were tailored, which got me thinking....

"1997...You were born on the tail-end of 90s grunge,” I informed my youngest.

"What was that?"

"The sloppy look."

"Oh...." Jackie's voice trailed off until... "I don't think I was born in the right decade. I'd like to have been born in the 50s--and then I would have been of age in the 70s," Jackie mused, visions of 70's chic dancing in her head. I remembered my mom, dressed in long-sleeved silk blouses, tight velvet slacks, and a fitted blazer. Her pants tucked into her boots, Jules could have walked right out of the picture frame image from yesteryear, and onto the streets of Paris this winter. Certain styles are intemporel. 

If only my memory was timeless. I think in the previous paragraph I confused the end of the 70s with the early 80s. (Mom, just when were you wearing those velvet pants?) Peu importe! Last night's trip down memory lane was the chance to share my girlhood with my daughter's. Even if she is now over a decade older than I was back then, born in another time and place. And to think this modern-day French girl shares the same passions as I did then... including Andy Gibb. "Il n'est pas mal du tout! He is not bad at all!" Jackie agrees.

***

That satin jacket many of Andy’s fans sported

Post note: Funnily, the only thing Jackie didn’t like is Andy’s hirsute chest. Young guys these days (only young men and only in France?) wax their torsos. But in researching for today’s post, I learned the trend is changing: body hair is back in style. 

In the comments, it would be fun to learn who your heartthrob/idol/pin-up or coqueluche was back in the day. Also, do you have a favorite outfit of all time? Take a jog down memory lane and share your thoughts in the comments. Merci!

FRENCH VOCABULARY

Audio File: To listen to the list below, click here:

Click here for the bilingual sound file

le lave-vaisselle = dishwasher
au fait = incidentally, by the way
une reprise = remake
la fille = daughter
la coqueluche = idol, heartthrob 
bien sûr = of course
intemporel = timeless, eternal 
peu importe = no matter

My daughter Jackie in Paris. She was wearing her running pants that day but would have swapped them in an instant for her grandmother Jules's velvet ones. Have time for another story? Don't miss "La Frousse" (Fright) --a mother-daughter story from 12 years ago.

Would this picture be good for the La Ciotat postcard series? Thanks for your helpful feedback and for your postcard orders this week! I am enjoying the quiet, mindful activity of addressing envelopes and my handwriting is slowly improving :-)

TODAY’S WORD: s'abandonner

: to surrender yourself to, to unburden yourself 


A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

As I walked into Le Café de L’Horloge two customers seated near le comptoir offered a warm bonjour.

"Boh-wher!" I replied, or tried to. For once it wasn't my faulty accent to blame. The freezing Mistral had numbed my face during the 30-minute walk to Port Vieux, where I was meeting my daughter for lunch. I waved goodbye to the diners after Jackie arrived, and the two of us headed upstairs to share a quiet booth with a view. "Isn't it cozy here? I love this place. It is open all day," Jackie said rubbing her hands together to warm them.

Hungry, I searched for la carte. "It's tucked inside that book..." my daughter pointed out.
"Oh, nice!" This artsy café had a charming literary twist (there are more books next door at the Emmaus bookshop). I reached for the menu inside a  paperback by Sylvain Tesson: "S'Abandonner à Vivre." Surrender to Live...

For now, we were surrendering to our appetites. Jackie suggested the bagel with salmon and la soupe de poireaux. A young woman from Paris took our order and disappeared down the stairs. "One more week of classes!" I said to my 25-year-old, who was completing a 4-week computer course offered by Pôle Emploi, the French national employment agency.

"Yes, but then what?" my daughter began to worry again. After some thought, I reminded her of a bit of wisdom I'd overheard recently:

In your twenties, try everything.
In your thirties, figure out what you do best.
In your forties, make money from what you do best.
Try not to do much in your fifties.

If I could say that in French it might go something like this:

Dans la vingtaine, essayez tout.
Dans la trentaine, découvrez ce que vous faites de mieux.
Dans la quarantaine, gagnez de l'argent avec ce que vous faites de mieux.
Essayez de ne pas faire grand-chose à la cinquantaine.

At 25 and 55 my daughter and I are at opposite ends of the career spectrum--between "essayez tout" et "ne pas faire grand-chose"--with Jackie trying everything between bartending and computer coding and me slowing down. Yikes. If Jackie has her doubts so do I (dois-je ralentir?).  And yet here we are, holding each other up with cheers and bouts of laughter.

"I'm going to embarrass you," I smile, giving my daughter an extra big bear hug back outside the café.
"No, you're not embarrassing me!" Jackie hugs back. We laugh and say our goodbyes before my daughter returns to computer class. She is anxious to see the 3D objet de déco she's designed which has just been cut out by a laser printer. It boggles my mind. Who knows what they'll print next. ..Baguettes? 

What would I do without my daughter? I think, on the cold walk home alone. Have I been present during lunch? Am I paying attention? Have I missed anything? I remember her smile. How she spoke to me in French and, catching herself, reverted to English. I think about the way Jackie ordered our lunch, poured the water, and spread chocolate over our shared gauffre before reaching into her purse for two euros, "I'll leave the pourboire." She is so calm. You’d never know she struggles with doubts and fears and anxieties.

Yet, she is showing me how to laugh at life. On the drive to pick up my daughter from class in the centre ville, I see her waiting on the side of the road. Suddenly, I catch a glimpse of a patrol car in my rear-view mirror...et c'est la panique! As I drive by my daughter my eyes widen and I begin wagging my finger back and forth, signaling I CAN'T STOP NOW! (Not in the middle of the road as usual.)

Finally, I pull over and my daughter, catching up to the car, opens the door. Neither of us can speak, we are laughing so hard. Eyes glistening with tears, we look at each other with comic relief. On rigole, et on rigole encore!

"Mom! You should have seen your face. I just knew you were going to freak! You and the cops! Toi et les flics--C'est toute une histoire! The fits of laughter continue until I have to wipe my eyes in order to drive. Fear and uncertainty have gone for the moment. These old foes will be back, but for now, we can laugh!

Well, dear reader, it is time to sum up today's story and bid you au revoir. So, no matter your age, be sure to slow down, try everything, and remember laughter is a form of surrender. Abandonnons-nous tous à vivre!

Amicalement, 
Kristi
P.S. The next time you see cops and panic, do what the French do: whisper Vingt-Deux les Flics! ("Twenty-two the cops!") It doesn't mean anything. It's just funny and kind of freeing!  

ADVICE FOR EACH DECADE OF LIFE
I thought it would be interesting to continue the "Advice for Each Decade" info cited above. Will you add your experience and wisdom to the comments section and whether or not you agree with the 20s, 30s, 40s, an 50s advice? To rephrase:

In your twenties, try everything.
In your thirties, figure out what you do best.
In your forties, make money from what you do best.
Try not to do much in your fifties.
In your sixties (fill in blank)
In your seventies (fill in blank)
In your eighties (fill in blank)
In your nineties (fill in blank)
At 100 (fill in blank, and merci to our readers who are nearing la centaine!)


View looking down to the cobbled streets of La Ciotat.


Can you spy my mom in the background? Photo of Jules taken a few years ago in front of Café l'Horloge, at 7 Rue Albert et Georges Arnoux, 13600 La Ciotat. A nice place for coffee, lunch, or apéros!

AUDIO FILE: Listen to the French vocabulary list

Click here to begin listening

FRENCH VOCABULARY
s'abondonner = to surrender oneself
le Café de L'Horloge = The Clock Café
le comptoir = bar, counter
Le Port Vieux = The Old Port in La Ciotat
la carte = the menu
la soupe de poireaux = leek soup
le pôle emploi = job center, unemployment office
dois-je ralentir? = should I slow down?
objet de déco = decorative object
la gaufre = waffle
le pourboire = tip, gratuity
rigoler = to laugh
toi et les flics = you and the cops
c'est toute une histoire = it's quite a story
amicalement = yours, kind regards
un apéro = pre-dinner drink

Would you like to order a set of my postcards from La Ciotat? Click this link for more info. 

While out on a scenic walk with Smokey, we spotted this watercolor artist and his lazy hammock. But cloth swings aren't the topic of the day... sheets are! So read on....

un drap (drah)

    : sheet

Audio File: Listen to Jean-Marc Download MP3 or Wave file

Plier vos draps-housses au lieu de simplement les ranger tels quels est un moyen pratique d’organiser vos draps et de garder un maximum de rangement. Folding your fitted sheets instead of simply putting them away "as is" is a practical way to organize your sheets and to save a maximum amount of space. -Comment Plier Un Drap Housse

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE... by Kristin Espinasse

Passing my daughter in the hallway, I notice she is carrying a bundled sheet. I watch her open the nearby buffet and cram it in among the stacks of bedding stored there.

"Pas si vite! No so fast!" I say, wagging my finger.

"But it's clean!" Jackie argues. She's only used the drap housse two nights--when she and her best friend took over her brother's new studio in Aix.

"Yes, it is, and you are right to put it back," I say, congratulating my teenager on her consideration. There was a time in the not-so-distant past when I would deliver a stack of freshly-washed and line-dried clothing to her room only to find it back in the laundry basket after the clean clothes ended up on the floor--mixed in with the rest!

Thankfully those days are over. Only now Jackie needs to learn how to fold a fitted sheet. "I'm going to show you an astuce!" I say, bracing for my daughter's resistence. But before she can roll her eyes, I play the sentimental card:

"...Your great-grandmother Audrey taught me this one...."

My student is now willing, if not super enthusiastic. "Here take this," I say, shaking out the bundle. "Now find one corner and poke your index finger in its seam!" 

Jackie is less triumphant when she locates the stitched coin, but I won't let her boredom dampen things. "There! Now, in the same way, reach over and locate another corner seam. Then join your fingertips!" 

I manage to drop the sheet during the demonstration. Reaching to pick it up, I hear my daughter rouspéter with impatience.

"Jackie, this trick will come in handy one day. Imagine two years from now when you are in college....

My girl is not sold on the homemaking tip so I add some key words.

"When you are in school in Boulder you'll have a little place rien que pour toi. Then you'll be happy to organize your living space and this tip will help." I shake out the fallen sheet, but my daughter groans. Apparently a sheet-folding demonstration is as painful as a tooth-pulling!

Normally at this point I give up and do it myself. But this time I take a good long look at my almost seventeen-year-old. Her grumblings turn to silly faces as she tries to coax me out of a serious mood.

Gripping the sheet the words pour out of me. "Jackie. LET ME BE YOUR MOM.... I have so much catching up to do. So many things to show you before you finish growing up."

My eyes begin to sting and, blinking them, I feel my daughter's arms around me. Her tender voice is a lullaby:

Maman, pleure pas....

*    *    *

It's a day later now and, after the tears, c'est le sourire. Do you know, dear daughter, that when your brother was little, he used to say the same thing only with difficulty? 

"Peur pas!" he would say to you, his newborn soeurette. And now you are almost grown. Big enough to stay overnight in Aix at your brother's new digs! Max will be leaving home in a few weeks, taking over the apartment permanently, and I wonder how things will be then? Will we feel the void?

Peur pas! I hear Max's little voice. I remember it so well! And now I imagine his current 19-year-old voice: "Pleur pas, Maman. I'm leaving you my sister. And my laundry, weekly."

My nostalgic daydream bursts when I remember the 10-pound laundry bag delivered just this morning. Well! If he thinks I'm going to continue to be his personal laundress he's got another thing coming: Mom's Sheet-folding lessons. The full, unedited, teeth-pulling version!

French Vocabulary

une astuce = a tip, trick, trade secret
le coin = corner
rouspéter = gripe, grumble, moan
rien que pour toi = all for yourself
le sourire = smile
la soeurette = little sister
peur pas = fear not

 After posting here, I love to go over to Instagram and upload the latest photos of our home and garden. You'll see Smokey, Chief Grape, the "kids", Jules, and the local environment here on a vineyard near Bandol. Click here to see the latest images.

Readers Comments

This comment from Cathy, in response to my covoiturage post, made me smile. It might encourage you to check out BlaBlaCar when next in France.

Having read concerns people have posted I have to say that what sold me originally on the service was that I was able to read reviews. Reviews of both drivers as well as of passengers. You can see how long someone has been a driver, what kind of car they drive. Drivers can check out passengers. I will always choose a veteran driver if I have a choice. I chose my first driver because he had positive reviews and one said he had transported their rabbit. Haha! That's who I wanted!! Turns out he's a Marseilles detective that lives in Perpignan do transits twice a week. So doing some research in advance and you can avoid a lot of surprises. Yes, it was a bit odd to climb into a car with three strange men at 1:30 in the morning at a parking area at a highway exit. But that miracle ride took me directly to Barcelona airport for a 6 am flight. Hip hip hooray for Blah Blah Car and the people who use it!

    To read the covoiturage post, click here.

The little cabanon, the one that makes a cameo in today's story...

.
habitude (ah-bee-tood) noun, feminine

    : habit

Audio File: listen to Jean-Marc pronounce these words: Download MP3 or Wave file

prendre de mauvaises habitudes = to pick up bad habits
j'ai l'habitude = I'm used to it
d'habitude = as a rule
comme d'habitude = as usual

French Christmas Music: "Mon Beau Sapin", "Sainte Nuit", "La Marche des Rois", "Petite Ville Bethléem", "Il est né Le Divin Enfant". Order CD here.  

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

An Evening Routine

At around 5:23 each evening, I rush down stairs to the kitchen, to make my son a triple-decker PB&J.  Tearing off a sheet of papier alu, I wrap the sandwich and set it into a brown paper sack, from the stack I am collecting from the fruit-and-vegetable stand. Small as the paper sacks are, I can even place a bottle of water inside, careful not to écraser the PB&J.

Smokey and Braise watch as I grab my keys, lunettes, purse, and run back to the kitchen for the snack I have forgotten.

"No, it's not for you!" I repeat to the dogs.  Arrêtez! Vous allez manger tout à l'heure—et vous le savez très bien! Alors, arrêtez de me faire culpabiliser!

I lock the front door and head out to the driveway. When I put the key into the car's ignition, the radio blares and I jump—seized with a fight-or-flight response! My hand slaps my heart to calm it.  "J'en ai eu assez! This time I am really going to have a word with him! I say of my husband, who has once again left the volume full blast. 

Never mind, time to get a move on! The clock reads 5:31 and my mind's eye shows my son standing at the bus stop waiting too long in the cold.

The road to the village is flanked with leaf-bare vines in wintertime. As I drive, I look out to admire a favorite stone cabanon, its roof fallen long ago. As always, my mind's eye sees newly painted shutters, in blue or green (I can't yet decide which). Inside the abandoned one-room abode, there is now a roaring fire in the hearth... red checkered cups and saucers dry on a quaint rack beside the sink. The floors are no longer dirt, they are covered with little earth-red tomette tiles. There is a cozy sofa facing the cheminée, blankets draped across the arms. A basket of yarn rests on the floor, knitting needles tucked into the wool. The simple, unhurried life.... 

My daydream ends as I coast into town, taking the busy boulevard to the centre ville. I see my son standing on the curbside, laughing with his friend, Antoine, with whom he will share his triple-decker PB&J. 

Pulling into the bus zone for an illegal 30-second drop-off, I lower the car window and prepare to do the nightly exchange in which Max hands me his backpack and I hand over the snack. 

"T'as de l'argent?" Max winks.

"You are persistent!" I answer with a smile, handing him his sandwich and his drink instead of the money.

Oh well, he isn't so disappointed, and by the gentle way he says merci beaucoup, Maman, he seems sincerely grateful.

I watch as the young man with the sandwich crosses the street, heading towards the auto-école for his night class. One day he will drive away and this evening routine will be no more. 

I will miss making the triple-decker sandwiches. I will miss my son's breezy attempts to pry money out of me. I will miss watching Mr. Merci Beaucoup walk off... looking like a dashing stranger.  And so I linger in my car another moment or two, letting the images transfer themselves into my mind's eye, to mingle with the painted shutters, the cozy fire, the basket of knitting and the checkered teacups... and even the forgetful husband and the dogs....

Oh, the dogs! Time to get home and feed them their dinner!

 
French Vocabulary

PB&J = peanut butter and jelly sandwich
le papier d'alu (d'aluminium) = aluminum foil
écraser = to squash
lunettes (fpl) = eyeglasses
Arrêtez! = stop
vous allez manger tout à l'heure = you're going to eat a little later
et vous le savez très bien! = and you know that!
alors, arrêtez de me faire culpabiliser! = so stop making me feel so guilty!
j'en ai eu assez = I've had enough!
le cabanon = one-room abode where farmers would rest and/or store their tools
tomette = a traditional floor tile found in Provence
la cheminée = fireplace
le centre ville = town center
t'as de l'argent = got any money?
l'auto-école (f) = driving school

Tis the season! Are you feeling a bit bah-humbuggy by now? Or is it just me?