I've been enamored with all things French since I was very young. Perhaps my mother planted the seed by giving me French first and middle names (the latter after a Frenchwoman who was a good friend of hers). Or perhaps it was that my dad's mom knew French, and would teach me pretty little things to say in that language.
So I'm not exactly sure how French rooted itself into me so firmly, but it helped define me even from the beginning. In high school when I was required to choose a language to learn, I chose French, without ever suspecting that it would not only come in handy some day, but also become an intimate part of my life. (Since most of the time I'm more of a never-even-get-on-the-rollercoaster kind of gal, as opposed to a hands-in-the-air-even-when-the-rollercoaster-is-at-the-top kind of gal, I figured I'd just take French to get through school. And that would be that. HA!)
Fast-forward about 20 years and you'll find me here. In the United States. Speaking Franglish with my handsome Frenchman, and our gorgeous little boy. And within this blog, I'll tell you what it's like to be us.