Mississippi Moments

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

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...:)

2 Comments:

  • At 7:38 AM, Anonymous col said…

    Back in my office and laughing out loud at your sweatsock sauce! Silly French...
    I will be with Becca and Re-beca, Bridget Waterhouse and Billy for most of Thanksgiving - so I think that counts as family of choice. I would of course, rather be with my family of insanity...er...um...origin, but as alternatives go, these ones aren't too shabby! love you and can't wait to see you and just soak up whatever you are kicking out.

     
  • At 7:27 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    We'll be sure to call you when the cranberry sauce is opened! Miss you & wish you were here. Soon though, right? Maude

     

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