Il y a une bombe dans l’autobus!
It is really cold in my apartment right now. I have spent the past two hours trying to get my heater to turn on, but I have finally decided that I have to put on socks and just be cold. That moment when summer turns to fall (and in Salt Lake it always happens overnight) is always shocking; like jumping in a cold pool on a hot day. I even had to fish out the wool sweaters this morning. I love wool. It is the most amazing fabric on the planet. Wool is totally natural, fairly water resistant (for a natural fabric), super warm, and always fashionable.
The library has this list of staff members who speak another language and when I started at the library (in 1997) I was taking high school French. Finally, though, the unthinkable happened, and I got called to translate for a very confused elderly French woman. It has probably been six years since I have studied French and I felt so bad that I couldn’t be of more help. The lovely lady (Marie) was trying to email her children and find Mark Spragg books in French (this was understood after an hour of hand gestures and nodding). I was amazed by how much I comprehended what she was saying, but I was unable to respond. A friend described that sensation as, “the closest one can come to having a stroke without having a stroke,” which seems pretty accurate. What is even more bizarre is that the French lady was driving through the West by herself. She had arrived in Salt Lake and was then driving to Idaho Falls, then to Cody, Wyoming, then to Yellowstone, and back to Salt Lake. I could never quite figure out why an elderly French woman would be going to Idaho Falls by herself, but there you go.
And this is pretty much an example of my French skills…
