Yesterday, there was an impromptu thunderstorm which terrified the bee-gee-sus out of Hugo, the Havaianas Hound.
After a particularly loud (and ominous) thunderclap…RRRing!RRring! the phone rings.
Me: Whadayawant? (I squawked nasally in my fake New York accent. This is my standard greeting for telemarketers and husbands. But only on rainy days).
Cici: Alo?! Bonjour!Bonjour! It eez mee Cici! Mon Dieu! Do you have a cold? You sound so stuffed up? Terrible! You must have some milk weeth a dash of brandy.
Background: Cici spends her summers in France. She just bought a hundred year old farmhouse with no W.C. in Burgundy. Very gutsy move. She is an excellent cook and a certified shoe-aholic. She roams the Marais and, well, all over Paris really, in search of good food, adventure, Havaianas and eco-friendly port-a-potties.
Me: Bonjour, Cic! How was your summer?
Cici: I spent 5 weeks cleee-ning up my jungle of a garden in “La Montagne” ( that’s her new 100 year old house)! You must come! I found an old table in the aus ( that’s house) , painted eet white and had a peec-neec! I wore the A-va-ia-nas you gave me all summer (navy peacocks slims, size 38). I had a good bottle of Burgundy wine, an old record player and my A-va-ia-nas. Eet was magic!
This is why everybody needs a French bestfriend! They can turn hacking the weeds and fighting aphids into a magical peec-neec!
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