Bubble...burst!!!***

Yep, knew it would come.

Go ahead and brag on the internet that 2 people asked you for
directions, and a few people on the phone told you that your french
was very good.

Of course, this means that someone will come along and make you feel
like you just graduated kindergarten and you have spaghetti sauce on
your face.

I took Lucy out for a walk, trying to get the "big job" done (with a
large dog, sometimes this turns into miles and miles of walking--the
Saga of Number 2).

Met a lady walking her dog on Port Royal near the Mac Do (McDonald's).

She immediately began treating me like her long lost niece, speaking
lightening-fast colloquial french at 4,000 km/hr. Honestly, I only
knew it was French because I occasionally understood a random word
here or there.

Upon asking where I lived, she of course knew the area very well.
Very well. Oh, very very well. And why are you so far from home?
And who is doing the dishes? Are you married? He is doing the
dishes--oh that's the way it should be! Oh, you haven't eaten? And
you're going to a concert (after correcting me on my pronunciation of
COOOhn-cert) you better get going! You are a long way from home! It
is 8 hours and a half--you'll never make it! You must go! I will
walk with you. Oh, you can't walk there, it is not nice, you must go
here. Oh, and now I will go this way. I will see you again? We
will walk! Our dogs, they are friends! They are "copin et copine".
You are English? Oh, American, oh yes. I could tell by your accent.

While her tiny, scruffy dust bunny, I mean dog, was trying to mate
with Lucy.

Sigh.

Je m'appelle Ronica et je parle un peu de français.

Sigh.

And Lucy didn't even succeed on her mission. A waste of a walk. ARGH.