Entree, pates, legumes.
All words you think you know the definitions of, since they were imported as-is from the French. But no, they really mean appetizer, pastas, and vegetables, respectively. As if there aren't enough ways to confuse us non-French speakers, there seems to be this sub-set of words that we picked up a little bit wrong, as if we just didn't hear correctly when we were told what they meant. A nation-wide game of telephone was involved, perhaps, leading to great miscommunications. Probably the French and Indian War resulted from something like this. I'm sure there are others that I'll encounter as time goes on.
It rained and hailed yesterday, and sprinkled today. Didn't do much today besides go to the movies and research utilities that needed to be cancelled. Yesterday we went to the big flea market in town (in the gentrifying Marolles district) and looked at all the junk people were trying to pass off as treasure. I could have really enhanced my record collection. I'm trying to hold off buying anything until we get established in our new digs so I don't end up having to move more stuff than I arrived with, but it's tough. There was a trio on one side of the market playing saxaphone, accordion and upright bass (amplified via megaphone), doing that kind of french-infused jazz reminiscient of the soundtrack from "Triplets of Bellville". It was pretty awesome. We had some so-so lasagne in a art nouveau bar on the Sablon, but it was a neat setting.
Regular adults probably don't find this sort of thing as funny as I do.