Fabulously French Bubbles

Today is normally my footing day. (If you need to brush up on your 'French vernacular' more about footings here). But I was too excited. I had a special visitor coming and I wanted everything to be just Fabulous for her when she arrived.
Fabulous she was is, fabulous was the meeting up of two Kiwi French vintage enthusiasts, FaaaaBulous was the sparkling pink champagne (Forget Brimont - now there's a story I must remember to tell you!).
And fabulous will be my 'footing' tomorrow in Millau where I shall endeavour to make it through the 20km and 1200m elevation that make up the short VO2 Course des Templiers.  Oh dear! It is nearly midnight so the tomorrow may become today in the blink of an eye!

May I be as light as that pink champagne bubble tomorrow as its memory whispers inside my head  'Enthusiasm, Possible, Enthusiasm, Possible ...'

From footings to brushings: an Antipodean discovering English in France

This morning while I was out doing my daily weekly footing (you remember that, it's the French word for jogging) I had a flashback of that first year in Paris when I barely spoke the language and as such, even the most banal every day situations were opportunities for embarassment adventure.

Particularly fond memories are those of my regular 'English Lessons.' Wonderful French people taking pity on that Antipodean girl with language challenges.

Following are transcripts of two conversations that I will never forget, mostly because they got a giggle out of me.

Triathlon Coach - Alors Angela , on va faire un petit footing dans le parc?

Moi - pardon? (read: what on earth is a 'footing?')

Tri Coach - Un FOOTING! Un FOOTING. In ze PARC.

Moi (Park, I understood) - Ok. Euh, what's a 'footing?'

Tri Coach - (with a smirk) Ah la petite Australienne don' speaka de Enlish?

Moi - Si, but I don't know what a footing is (although by this time I had cottoned on a little)

Tri-Coach (jiggling up and down alternating feet.)

Moi - ohhhhh, you mean going for a jog.

Tri-Coach - Oui, c'est ça. Un FOOTING

The same week at work:

Florence was explaining to me how to ask for a hairdressing appointment. Luckily I got to practice on her before picking up the phone. It was when she asked me if I wanted a 'brushing' or just a cut that things got curiouser and curiouser...

Florence/hairdresser: Alors Mademoiselle, qu'est ce que je vous fais aujourd'hui? (what am I going to do to you today? Inspires confidence, doesn't it?)
Moi - Ummm (lost for words)
Florence - Une coupe ou un brushing?
Moi - Une coupe, and, and, and (thinking: how do you say wash and blowdry as well and what is this brushing you want to do to me?)
Moi - C'est quoi, un brushing? (Vaguely wondering if it wasn't some wierd French initiation rite)
Forence- You don' speak Enlish???
Moi - (groan, again?) Si, c'est quoi un brushing?

I finally worked out that it was a style or blowdry but she regarded me suspiciously for weeks wondering, I imagine, if people really spoke English in the Southern Hemisphere...

These, friends, were my reflections during my footing and subsequent brushing. There are countless other English nouns that the French hitch an ING onto in order to make it a French noun too (you don't go footing, you go for a footing.) And it's a delightful adventure in itself trying to discover them all...    

Enjoying the present(s)

This morning I abandoned Doris early to go for a run. As the drizzle frizzes her feathers, she opted to stay in and tidy up the kitchen for me while I raced through the forest to let out a bit of bottled up energy. Beaker, always on the lookout for a marketable idea, reckons I should do just that - bottle my energy  - and sell it!
On that point, Mrs JM from Australia yesterday launched the  idea of harnessing the power of giggle energy to solve the world's energy problems. GIGGLE!
It's possibly my favourite word. Just the sound of it incites me to chuckle. Another word that conjures up a giggle!
Anyway, after testing out the giggle/energy theory on myself during my hour's 'footing,' as they call a jog in French, I concluded that it could work! Don't you think? Looking to Mrs JM to help me on that one on a global scale though!

Suddenly, through all the giggle-fuelled 'footing,'  it dawned on me in a particularly beautiful spot on the track that it was the beginning of autumn. The Forest was awash with all sorts of greens going browns and oranges. There's that splash of orange again... follows me everwhere!
Giggled less of course when I got back home to find Doris being a lazy pig and the only splash of orange was the juice the kids had spilt on the table... but then, they're my present(s) too...

For the French Impaired, what does my plank say? ' With Little, One Can Live Infinitely in the Present.' It is the direct result of a particularly horrendous bad hair day spent cleaning up after my 3 mess-talented, loveable monsters! Ahh - inspiration, I told you, you can find it anywhere if you look hard enough! (click on the image if you want to see it in close up.)