Madame is not the only character in my neighborhood mini-drama. There’s also Mrs. Tee-Lou. Tee-Lou is the name of this lady’s dog, and of course, it’s the phonetic pronunciation. He’s a good dog, about three-quarters the size of Tycho, with cute brown markings and a fluffy, “perky” tail. Mrs. Tee-Lou has tried to have several conversations with me—usually pretty one-sided. I understand more and more of what she has to say, which is encouraging. But it is pretty frustrating because I just don’t have the vocabulary yet to really respond. I’m sure she is frustrated too. In fact, I think she has started avoiding me to escape the painful exchanges. I’d imagine that seeing me fumble about in my naked French is like seeing me in my unmentionables for her.
So far, she has informed us that we need a TV so I can hear French at home. She even told me that we could lease one, if we wanted. Thanks. I couldn’t explain to her that none of our American appliances worked here and that we were starting from scratch. And … I couldn’t explain that for me, gaining access to BBC Prime, MTV (in French!), and CNN came lower on the list than other major appliances. She persistently checked in though about the status of our TV and was pleased when we finally procured one, like she’d finally talked sense into me. We’ve talked about Roger Federer and his tennis glory—and an old tennis injury that she has. Apparently, she has injured her wrist and can no longer play. And, she has told me that my dog is fat. Well, at least that’s what I think she said. I hope she was talking about my dog …
There are plenty of English speakers in the neighborhood too; it’s just that I understand everything that is being said, so the conversation seems more pedestrian. I love the mystery and intrigue that I can bring to the plotline with my French-speaking neighbors. Something about miming an adult conversation just cracks me up.
