Things began to come together, and I went from speaking like an evil baby to speaking like a hillbilly. "Is thems the thoughts of cows?" I'd ask the butcher, pointing to the calves' brains displayed in the front window. "I want me some lamb chop with handles on 'em." — David Sedaris (Me Talk Pretty One Day)
And so, this is how I feel. Only four times over, since I have just been barely surviving with French over here. I know lots of words, but not really many verbs, so it's kind of useless. But, it's working as well as it can.
We had dinner with our French friends. It was a little awkward since I understood a good amount of what they were saying, but couldn't respond for the life of me. Isabella translated, but didn't talk much.
Sebastien made us a wonderful Beouf Bourginon, which to my surprise, Isabella ate heartily. She really liked it. And, of course, the fondant au caramel that he served for dessert was a big hit.
Elsa and Laure-Line had accents I could understand and were patient with me trying to respond in French. Overall, a good time was had by all, but who kow what I said!
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