This is what I wrote about un pot in a comment on yesterday's post. It is a glass of wine or whatever you want to drink, usually in a café. And it's ponounced [poh] with a silent H. On prend un pot avec des amis. By extension, organiser or faire un pot means to invite guests into your home or colleagues at your workplace to have a drink of whatever you are serving. I guess it's a cocktail party in a way. Un pot d'adieu is a going-way party. Yesterday's pot at the neighbors' house across the road was a crowd of maybe 50 people drinking glasses of the local bubbly wine or beer. There were some finger foods. We were lucky with the weather, which turned off mild and sunny, so most of the crowd stayed outdoors. It was fun.
Pot is an interesting word. It can mean a drink. It can mean a party. It can also mean "luck" — j'ai eu du pot ce jour-là. I was lucky that day. Manger à la fortune du pot means to take pot luck when talking about lunch or dinner. Un pot au feu (the T is pronounced) is a boiled beef dinner, and une poule au pot (silent T) is king Henri IV's famous chicken in every pot. And there are many more meanings as well. Le pot d'échappement d'une voiture is the car's muffler. I don't know if this link will work, but if it does you can see how many definitions there are for pot and how many expressions use the word.
I didn't take any pictures yesterday. It didn't seem appropriate, especially at the cemetery, and at the pot I was busy talking to people. I think there were more people at the cemetery than there were at the house afterwards. People told me that the cathedral in Blois was pretty much full for the religious service/funeral earlier in the afternoon. I sort of wish I had gone to Blois for the funeral but we were busy getting the house ready for our mystery guests, who are supposed to arrive at about 6 this evening. We've never met them before. They aren't staying overnight, and we're not cooking a big dinner. Nous allons boire un pot ensemble and get to know each other in person and not just by telephone and e-mail. These guests live in Grenoble and are on their way to Bayeux in Normandy (of tapestry fame) for some kind of family reunion. More tomorrow... maybe with a photo or two.
Thanks for that link to the definitions of pot. I've never seen that CNTRL resource before!
ReplyDeleteThanks for explaining the fuite en désordre the other day, too.
De rien, Judith. The CNRTL (I always get those letters mixed up when I type the name) is a very good dictionary. I'm sure it was Charles-Henry who first told me about it.
DeleteThanks for the pot information. Bernard had a nice send off. I know you are going to miss seeing him on his mower.
ReplyDeleteBernard's son-in-law, Jean-Paul, has taken on the challenge. He was out mowing yesterday.
DeleteMost of all, Ken, I was glad you said "it was fun" . I had a recent distress of my cat needing emergency care and in the end I had to have him euthanized (16 years + a month). I was surprised how deeply I have been affected since late Saturday night. I will read the link about all the uses for "pot" - My original intention was to write that I thought it might be "a potluck" but offering drinks is a good idiom to know.
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry to hear about your cat, Mary. You know, our cat, Bertie, died at close to 17 years old, pretty much a year ago. We still miss him (but not the mice and lizards (dead or alive) that he often brought into the house after a hunting expedition. Pot luck is à la fortune du pot.
DeleteYes, I loved the histories (also histrionics!) of Bertie. Mostly I loved that he and Tasha were friends, and roomies! I did forget he was close to 17! Now I have taken a moment and gone to the CNTRL site! Phew! Too many definitions with pot to read all of them today! I think I can remember à la fortune du pot! That comes up a lot in my circle of friends! Especially mes amies françaises! Since Matisse was always an inside cat I didn't have the little gifties like you got from Bertie, however, I am, slowly, compiling a list of chores. Like painting the inside trim on my front door and other painting projects that were just too difficult to contemplate with a curious cat around! And perhaps taking up all the carpeting and replacing it with hardwood or artificial panels that look like hardwood! After that - I am anxious to start planning a trip to France! Of course, right now, I am just remembering the good times and trying not to be too morose. Yesterday, after I finally broke down about him, I went to get my mail and I found an envelope from the Emergency Vet. Inside beside the sympathy card were imprints they had made of his paws and also of his face (cheeks and his nose!) - no eyes! They really made me smile. Some people I have heard say, "Oh, I won't have any more pets, it is just too hard when they die."
ReplyDeleteFor me, I just think of how much my pets have contributed to my life, all the personality quirks and play times we experienced I wouldn't give those pets up for the world! Now, to just try to be alone for awhile so I can travel a few times before I find maybe a dog this time or another kitty!
Walt and I talk about whether or not we'll have another dog after Tasha departs this world. I guess it will depend on how our health is at that point. We've enjoyed life with three different dogs since 1992, and Tasha is the best-adjusted of the three.
DeleteThe first dog was Collette, who we rescued from the Humane Society in Santa Clara, Calif. She was definitely afraid of strangers but she took to us and to a few of our good friends pretty quickly. She was about six months old when we found her at the Humane Society and had been picked up as a stray and taken in to the animal shelter. She died here in France at the age of 14.
Callie was a very neurotic dog but sweet at the same time. She died at the age of 10. We had got her from a breeder about three hours by car east of Saint-Aignan. She was, I think, the runt of a litter of 10 border collies, and I think her litter-mates picked on her.
Tasha is barky but not really neurotic. She's never really met a stranger, as they say. She likes our neighbors. She loves riding in the car, which Collette liked but Callie hated. Tasha is affectionate but she hardly ever gives kisses.
Bertie was a cool cat. CHM, who said he wasn't really a cat person, loved Bert. We were so happy a year ago to find his body in some tall grass out behind our back gate. He was curled up and you would have thought he was just sleeping, but apparently he had died a few days earlier. We thought he had died when he didn't come looking for his food on a Saturday afternoon, and we didn't find him curled up in the grass out back until the following Friday. At least we didn't have to keep worrying that he had died a violent death or that he might have been locked up in somebody's unoccupied house or somebody's garage. We gave him a proper burial out in the back yard