I love you

The temperature had dropped from Saturday's 34° to the low 20s on Sunday.

I went out to get food for lunch which included a stop at the Boucherie. About four locals came into the shop after me.

I didn't see the chicken I wanted, so I asked. All the conversation was in French.

He showed me those in the rotisserie which smelled wonderful. I told him I wasn't lazy and wanted to cook my own. He laughed and led me to the other end of the counter.

He reached for a full chicken.

It was going to be a slow pot recipe and I didn't need a complete chicken. I used the wrong word and asked for a jambe not cuisse but he understood that I wanted a leg.

By now everyone was listening. He was flirting. I was playing along.

He reached for the chicken legs at the same time I spied the turkey leg.

I pointed to it and said, "the big one."

"Dinde," he said.

"I know I said, I changed my mind."

"Women do that all the time," he said.

At that point there were a few giggles from our audience.

"You speak very good French," he said.

"No where as good as I want."

"All I can say in English is "I love you." I love you was the first English in the conversation.

"I love you, too," I said in English.

More giggles behind me.

He wrapped the turkey leg and I paid for it.

"Au revoir," he said. "I love you."

"Au revoir, mon amant." I said to the applause of those in the shop.

Supermarket shopping just isn't as much fun as this.