It’s a Common Phrase Down Our Way

“Heureuse-année, grand nez!”  Admittedly a gambit, I said this to the young guy at our local cheese shop. I hear him speaking French all the time.
     Holding a wedge of Applewood, he hairied an eyeball. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
     I persevered. “You know . . . it’s New Years, I say ‘heureuse-année grand nez!’ and you respond, ‘Pareillement, grande dent!’”
     “What language is that?’
     “Fren-ch.”
     He asked where I was from, but others had entered the shop, and now I was just the crazy lady monopolizing the cheese-guy’s time.
     “Tecumseh.” My last attempt.
     “Oh.” He smiled, wondering where the hell was Tecumseh.

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