I think every woman has a special girlfriend who they go to when they need to connect with someone, to feel like someone loves them and cares about the thoughts that run a mile a minute through our addled female minds. Mine is Frenchie Pooh, at least that is her name here on Yahoo 360.
Let me describe her, so you can get a feel for her spark, for a spark of life she definitely has beyond most people I’ve met. She was born in France and has that inherent French pride in everything she does. She has been in the US longer now than she was in France but she still has a slight accent and is still quite French in many ways. She is six feet tall in her bare feet, winsomely thin though she has the usual concerns we women do about the current firmness of her backside. She is a cooking instructor and chef, typical you might think for someone born French, but she didn’t begin to really find her chef’s soul until after arriving in the US. I think the backwards state of American cooking at that time pushed her to try and match the foods she missed from home.
When I first met her, a day I will never forget, she struck me as so confident, so amazingly worldly compared to my own rather inexperienced self. My hubby, then boyfriend and hers were starting to work together. They had been contemplating more of a partnership and it was time to have a social evening, to meet the wives, so to speak.
We went to their home and I was greeted by this tall French woman who was beautiful, engaging and so very comfortable in herself and with entertaining total strangers. The conversation between her and her boyfriend flowed over us in its lilting French tones, wooing me into their world. I have to admit it was a while before I let go of my American awe of their European flavor and finally began to know them for who they really were. As time went on we became good friends, the four of us. Every Friday was Latin jazz night. We’d go to their place and listen to KSBR and eat something she was trying out for her classes. “Guinea Pig Dinners” she called them and we would, in true guinea pig fashion, critique the hell out of her attempt even though it was the best dinner we’d had all week.
As time passed, I realized more and more how close I felt to “Frenchie” and how wonderful it was to have a new best friend. As we grow up and make our friends in school, we think we’re so fortunate to have found friends for life. Later on, after we leave school and begin our lives we realize just how rare it is to find good friends and sometimes wonder if that was our only opportunity. Then a friend like “Frenchie” comes along and opens up a whole new outlook on friendship.
With her abruptly honest reactions to my thoughts and her brashly vivacious personality she had won my heart. I found another side to myself with her and was able to let my hair down, to let my real self shine through.
When we both found ourselves single, we moved in together. I loved that time in our lives. I had never lived with a girlfriend and didn’t know what to expect. Though, I did now that if I could live with a woman “Frenchie” would be the one. We used to sit out on the deck every night when I’d get home and share our days. Some nights she’d say, "I need to not talk anymore tonight." I was the first person she’d lived with that wasn’t French and speaking English all day without a break got tiring. I would so love to learn French and have studied sporadically but I know it would take the same level of immersion for me to learn the language as well as she’s learned ours. She still has some adorable phrases she uses that I no longer correct. For a while she made me correct her all the time and she’ll deck me when she reads this but there’s one I gave up correcting because I love it too much.
We have been through so much together and I know I can always count on her to be there for me, as I will always be there for her. She has become a part of my family and will always hold a most special place in my heart.
Thank you “Frenchie” for being my very best friend.
Let me describe her, so you can get a feel for her spark, for a spark of life she definitely has beyond most people I’ve met. She was born in France and has that inherent French pride in everything she does. She has been in the US longer now than she was in France but she still has a slight accent and is still quite French in many ways. She is six feet tall in her bare feet, winsomely thin though she has the usual concerns we women do about the current firmness of her backside. She is a cooking instructor and chef, typical you might think for someone born French, but she didn’t begin to really find her chef’s soul until after arriving in the US. I think the backwards state of American cooking at that time pushed her to try and match the foods she missed from home.
When I first met her, a day I will never forget, she struck me as so confident, so amazingly worldly compared to my own rather inexperienced self. My hubby, then boyfriend and hers were starting to work together. They had been contemplating more of a partnership and it was time to have a social evening, to meet the wives, so to speak.
We went to their home and I was greeted by this tall French woman who was beautiful, engaging and so very comfortable in herself and with entertaining total strangers. The conversation between her and her boyfriend flowed over us in its lilting French tones, wooing me into their world. I have to admit it was a while before I let go of my American awe of their European flavor and finally began to know them for who they really were. As time went on we became good friends, the four of us. Every Friday was Latin jazz night. We’d go to their place and listen to KSBR and eat something she was trying out for her classes. “Guinea Pig Dinners” she called them and we would, in true guinea pig fashion, critique the hell out of her attempt even though it was the best dinner we’d had all week.
As time passed, I realized more and more how close I felt to “Frenchie” and how wonderful it was to have a new best friend. As we grow up and make our friends in school, we think we’re so fortunate to have found friends for life. Later on, after we leave school and begin our lives we realize just how rare it is to find good friends and sometimes wonder if that was our only opportunity. Then a friend like “Frenchie” comes along and opens up a whole new outlook on friendship.
With her abruptly honest reactions to my thoughts and her brashly vivacious personality she had won my heart. I found another side to myself with her and was able to let my hair down, to let my real self shine through.
When we both found ourselves single, we moved in together. I loved that time in our lives. I had never lived with a girlfriend and didn’t know what to expect. Though, I did now that if I could live with a woman “Frenchie” would be the one. We used to sit out on the deck every night when I’d get home and share our days. Some nights she’d say, "I need to not talk anymore tonight." I was the first person she’d lived with that wasn’t French and speaking English all day without a break got tiring. I would so love to learn French and have studied sporadically but I know it would take the same level of immersion for me to learn the language as well as she’s learned ours. She still has some adorable phrases she uses that I no longer correct. For a while she made me correct her all the time and she’ll deck me when she reads this but there’s one I gave up correcting because I love it too much.
We have been through so much together and I know I can always count on her to be there for me, as I will always be there for her. She has become a part of my family and will always hold a most special place in my heart.
Thank you “Frenchie” for being my very best friend.
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