Elan=Elk, Hibou=Owl
...and there is no French word for gravy because the French don't eat gravy. They eat sauce, clear sauce, strained sauce, light sauce, wine sauce, sauce that smells like old sweatsocks, but Non! gravy. They also don't have a word for pumpkin pie and if it doesn't exist in France, then...well....it doesn't exist. As Liana, my prof explains, the French are not what we would call "open" or exploratory in their food sensibilites. Me, bring on the veggie-dinde, la tarte aux potirons, le graveee, and elk calls and owl faces.
Long day. Good day. I'm tired day. Just about can't keep my eyes open even though it's only 8pm.
I love it that you said it read like a book, Colleen. I am missing you now and look forward to just hearing you talk and sing nearby...that means anywhere less than 100 miles away or just across the stage from me. I send you the scent of cedar, the image of windwhipped waves off of Golden Gardens and Martha-style attentiveness to napkin folding. I hope you are going to be with Family of CHoice this Thanksgiving.
More later, Beloveds. Still nothing to worry about and lots to think about...and tons for which to be grateful...the least of which isn;t the dog hair I am finding in all of my sweaters...:)