lost in translation
Bonjour!
How was your day?
This morning, as I was sipping my piping HOT cup of coffee, I stared at this postcard I received from my Uncle Michael a few weeks ago.
On the postcard he had written:
“Hi! Good luck with this recipe.”
Um, thanks?
Hmm….maybe I should have mentioned to him in a previous passing that I am the only one out of my siblings that doesn’t speak French or any other foreign language. Eh, details.
As I skimmed through the French recipe (hoping there was a slight chance I knew one word), I quickly realized that I was in waaaay over my head. So I did what anyone would do in this day of age and downloaded the Google Translator app. Brilliant.
Here are a few of the words I was able to translate before my carpel tunnel flared up:
– Basque (noun) -> skirt, tail, or tails
– Gateau -> Cake
– Farine -> Flour
– Beurre -> Butter
– Oeufs -> Eggs (*would you have guessed eggs? geez!)
Even though I will be translating this recipe from now until Christmas, it was fun to feel like a Parisian for a moment. Thanks Michael for the cake recipe!
Okay.
Moving on.
Remember on Sunday when Mr. B woke up with a sore throat and major drainage? Well, I was all sunshine and lollipops today up until lunch and then, BAM! My throat started to feel scratchy and my head began to throb. Oh hell-to-the-no! There is no way that I am getting sick four days before this race.
So I sprinted across the street to purchase ZICAM spray from Rite Aid and grabbed a green tea from Starbucks next door.
I sprayed my throat with ZICAM like it was my job. Hmmm. That doesn’t sound right. But you get the picture. I first heard of ZICAM when I lived in Chicago. Since the weather was pretty much horrible nine months out of the year, people at work were constantly sick. I kid you not, everyone had a bottle of this stuff on their desk. Jar of pencils, stapler, scotch tape….ZICAM.
Anyways, in between my spraying escapades, I did manage to sneak in a quick shot of my outfit today.
Cute. Simple. Chic.
After work I headed home to rest before boot camp. I honestly would have rather played with a large mountain lion then do lunges and squats. But I am glad I went because now I feel a zillion times better.
And now…..I am off to watch GLEE!!! Ahhhh….yeahhhh!
Have a smashing night!
That is so funny that Michael sent you a French recipe! Usually I get a Biarritz Magazine, but haven't yet.
I have always hated the word for “eggs” in French. Oeufs? Really? Sounds horrible. Pronounced “oofs.”. Just like “hors d'oeuvres” are really kind of yucky-sounding too.
I see it is a Basque cake. The Basque people are a fierce, proud peasant people who live in the Pyrenees Mountains that border Spain and France. So I am thinking it might be a kind of rustic cake. My French teacher used to tell us some kind of joke about a theatre in a Basque town being on fire, and the theatre ending up with all the “Basques in one exit.”.
Now you know more about French eggs and Basques than you wanted to. : )
Love, Moomers
Actually, I am glad you cleared that up! I had no idea what kind of cake Michael was telling me to make:)