Mon Pants

my aussie boots

I love the word pants.  To an American, it means “pants.”  To the Commonwealth, it means underpants.  Tee hee hee.  If you want to say “pants” as a Brit or what have you, you say “trousers.”  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve walked blatantly into a conversation about underwear/panties/knickers  when I really meant “jeans.”  And, oh they laugh.  They laugh not near me, but directly at me.  “Whoops, “ I say, “ I meant pants … er trousers.”

No French lesson today, but that’s okay.  I had a meeting with the Pompier, which challenged my French speaking ability.  I think I conjugated most verbs correctly ( j’espère … I google translated that.  I knew the term, but lacked the spelling  Baby steps ) and I asked questions when I didn’t understand.  And I drank a Coke, which helped tremendously.  I’m applying to join the firemen of our village.  Firemen have a whole new set of vocabulary that I am unfamiliar with.  I can do banks, shops, markets, farmer stuff, but first aid? Fire? Still working that set.

my dirty knee

My trousers today, tell you that I didn’t change my clothes this morning.  The brown “Hale Bob” gym pants now used as “warm under wear” ( in the underwear you wear under your pants ). My Aussie boots given to me by J.R.  back when Aussie boots were cute in the Urban world, but now totally useful.  I wore this yesterday.  I knew I’d be finishing off the painting today, so why dirty another pair of Yuppie pants?  But the mud.  What’s with the mud?  That was from a cow move today that I helped Brent do.  I love moving the cows with Brent.  I can be very, nervous sometimes because I’ve seen a few moves go silly.  With each simple cow move, I gain more confidence.  With all this rain and navigating fences, your pants get a bit soiled.  It’s a bit blurred, but there is also a pen mark.  I was testing to see if the pen worked.  On my pants.  Who does that?  I must be still a bit sick and lazy.

The young ones are home early today. I love Friday.  Lucy and Brent are off fencing.  Dinner is cooking.  I am writing and playing tic-tac-toe with Minty.  We use this little fluff-ball version that I’ve carried around with me since I was a teen in San Diego.  So, what, like just a few years ago.  Fluff-ball tic-tac-toe is the most enjoyable game.  I’m glad their fluff-ball-ness has kept up with all the moving and uncertainty.  Minty is quite skilled with most games.  You think she’s not quite certain about what is going on.  Then, she strikes hard when you think you got her beat.  Tic-tac-toe is somewhat humiliating.  DO NOT play “go fish” with that child.  She counts cards.
fluffle tic tac

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2 thoughts on “Mon Pants

  1. cecilia January 31, 2014 / 8:18 pm

    Busy and filthy! The best.. love the tic tac toe, though I have ni idea how to play it, we were not a playing family. beach kids just do beaches. Your daughters name is Minty? Gorgeous. have a lovely weekend,. c

    • grasspunk February 1, 2014 / 7:24 am

      Her name is Clementine (or Clémentine in France). Clementine becomes Minty or Mint.

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