I love your toilet.

It is cold here. Uncomfortably cold. I was reminded of January this morning when I opened my shutters, expecting the warm glow of the spring sun on my face, and instead got a blast of frigid wind and droplets of cold rain to boot.

Miming the weather, class was uncomfortable-- uncomfortably boring. After a grueling phonetics test on which I'm sure received an 8 (the American equivalent of a C- or worse), I had to sit through 4 hours of language class with Natalie.

I love Natalie more than words can say. Therefore, I make every possible attempt to stay alert, focused, and attentive during four hours of uninterrupted class. I nod my head when I understand a grammatical point she is trying to explain, ask her the meanings of words I don't yet know, and try to keep a smile on my face for the duration of class.

But every good students has their limits. I was about to reach mine today and discreetly lay my head on my desk when Natalie saved me-- with baguettes and toilets.

As per usual, we were talking about relative pronouns, and landed on a completely different subject-- the double meaning of some French words.

For instance, the word "baguette" has come to mean only one thing to me-- deliciously fresh, oh-so-airy, yet crusty bread that I can buy for 1 euro at any bakery in Aix. But, baguette does not technically connote bread. It literally translates as "a little stick". So, a composer leading an orchestra uses "une baguette" to keep time.

Another word with a double meaning is toilet. "La toilette" is actually a fancy, going-out-on-the-town kind of dress. "Les toilettes" are, as Natalie says, for "le pee-pee".

So, instead of mentally exiting class today, I half-listened to Natalie, and half pictured Mozart leading an orchestra with a giant, French baguette or a poor girl asking her boyfriend if he liked her toilette. Of course, I had a smile on my face. Natalie must have thought I was simply in love with relative pronouns.