Smitten: Adventures in Francophilia

Smitten: Adventures in Francophilia                          
                                        
     Doug comes home with some unsettling news. “Ro, my TV land wife is with child and wants to be a stay at home Mom.”
     “You called her wife instead of the leading lady.”  
     “Think but this, and all is mended, that every pout advertises some lipstick and each wink is a sales pitch for mascara, while kisses are the promise of a lost passion to find its song again with Aloe Vera skin glow.”
     “Your kissy-face costar is a sore subject, but not so different than me. You need a new girl on the set.”    
      “That is the thing she has to speak French and English.”
       “Doug, my lingua franca is French. I still look good in the French maid outfit from my sorority days. Write in scenes with me happily dusting while you leer and the ratings will get in high gear. Cast retention will be assured by the naughty views.”
     Doug replies, “That would be too real. Having you in front of the camera could open Pandora’s
box.”
      “We’ll be doing our patriotic duty by turning on America. Marriages will be saved by getting the love life spouses, crave.”
     “Brush up on your French because you’re my new TV wife.”  
     “We should teach our daughter French.”
     Doug replies, “Then she’ll want us to shell out for her high school trip to Paris.”
     Ro says, “Monsieur, every Mademoiselle must go to Paris. And I must chaperone her. But we’ll stay in hostels as not to break your bank.”
     “Rowena, why can’t you two just armchair travel via a DVD of ‘La Vie en Rose?’”
     “That is the perfect in-flight movie on our plane to France. I’ll make a request.”
     “We’ll have to eat ramen noodle soup.”
     “How gauche, but I’ll spice it up into a bisque that would make any chef proud. Since as your stage partner I’ll be bringing home half the bread it gives me equal say in money matters.”
     “Do I get to tag along in Paris?”
     “Only if you learn at least conversational French. Can’t have you embarrassing me with anglicized pronunciations not fit for a bistro much less the Louvre.”