Old School

Last summer, while vacationing in France, Kellie discovered that even the most mangled attempt at speaking the local language was sufficient to transform the rudest, most arrogant Parisian into a friendly, helpful human being.  Before anyone accuses me of bigotry or stereotyping, I want to point out that the French themselves think that Parisians have an attitude problem.  Kellie’s experience convinced her that she needed to learn French because she has plans to return to France, soon.

The first time Kellie attended college, many, many, many years ago, she would get herself motivated for class by rocking out to AC/DC.  Today, at forty-eight years old, Kellie’s pre-class ritual is a little different.  She now pops estrogen pills to ward off menopause induced hot flashes and takes Bayer Back & Body extra strength caplets to suppress all her other middle-aged aches and pains. 

Kellie is more that twice the age of the other students in her French 101 course, making her the cougar in the classroom.  There is only one other non twenty-something in Kellie's class, a woman, who is likely over forty, but Kellie says she’s not a MILF, thereby making her ineligible for cougar status.    

Kellie and I have a little wager going.  I bet her that one of the cubs makes a move on her before the end of semester; Kellie doesn’t think it will happen.  If she wins, we go to France this year.  If I win, I get a new iMac.  But I have a feeling that the bet is irrelevant.  Kellie has already found two French families that want to exchange homes with us this summer.  One family with a home on the French Riviera wants to swap houses for two weeks in July; the other family has a home in Paris and they want to trade for three weeks in August.  I wonder if I can deduct the cost of the trip as an educational expense?  If those are my two choices, "Peut-on aller à la Riviera s'il vous plaît?"