Focloir Poca/I Ching Word(s) of the Day

Did you ever play that game where you open a book to a random page and whatever your eye lands on first is your guiding principle for the next twenty-four hours? If you use the dictionary or the encyclopedia you then have to use the word, however random, in conversation.

So I started with one word: fable which translates to fabhalscéal or finscéal. And the next one, because I'm the type to cheat and read ahead, is fabric or fabriac also uige or eadach. Perhaps these three words are like fabric, cloth, and material, synonyms surely but not precisely the same. Then follows fabricate, which translates as cum. I love the word fabricate. It's sort of a favorite; but I like to use it to mean "to make (and often by hand)" rather than in the "to tell whopping lies" sense. If you think about it though, whether you are building dresses or spinning tall tales you're problem solving. It's just that some solutions are better than others.

Next comes fabrication, or cumadóireacht. This is followed by the helpful phrase nil ann ach scéal a cumadh...or "it's only a..." It would seem in Irish fabrication doesn't carry the positive meaning of making/inventing in addition to the negative one. That's too bad.

However, there are three words for fabulous, fabhlach, dochreidte, and iontach! Honestly, that was the next entry.

Taken all together I think that means make something fabulous, which is more or less my daily (life) motto. A welcome reminder after yesterday's retrograde bungle.

Retrograde

The universe is moving backward, I swear. Do you ever have one of those days when nothing goes terribly wrong but it certainly doesn't go as planned either? Today is that kind of day. For example:

The good news: my Teach Yourself Irish book and Focloir Poca (dictionary, no, let me rephrase that...pocket dictionary with microscopic type) arrived in the mail.The not quite as good news: the aforementioned book has somehow separated itself from the CD's that typically accompany it. That's just great. So helpful.
However, there is always a silver lining. Chapter One of TYI starts out with a list of goals...among them is "be polite". I like that. Even if you don't have much to say (or have a limited vocabulary) be nice about it. And best of all, the last chapter of TYI is called "I used to have a lot to do". This is magic, a book that teaches both good manners and the ability to live life at a leisurely pace! Hope is on the horizon.

I'm a little worried about the "I think the bank is closed" chapter. Let's hope that's not an omen and just a nod to the present economic climate.

Order is everything. Chapter Three is entitled "Are you married?" and comes long before "Would you like a cup of tea?" (Ch. 10). Actually, I know a little something about this. One Saturday morning back in February I slept in. It was nine thirty and I was still in my pajamas. Anne, my next door neighbor and owner of my cottage, knocked on the door. She let herself in, sat herself down on the couch and we started to chat. She definitely inquired about my marital status before I had the kettle on.

"Where is my bathrobe?" is not included as a chapter heading from which I can only assume that one must be groomed and ready for verbal repartee at any time!

The immediate intimacy was a little startling. I am more accustomed to the version of politeness which includes not asking a question but waiting for someone to volunteer personal information. But that's New England for you. That said, everyone I met was astonishingly conscious of not taking any action which would impose or put someone out and in fact everyone was incredibly generous with me.

Anne and her husband Eamonn were gracious enough to invite me to dinner...and tea...and a couple of walks. We went to Mass together one Sunday.


Remember these self-possessed ladies? Well, according to Eamonn they were all expecting TWINS! By now the pasture should be filled with frolicking little lambs. The thought of that is enough to brighten up the worst Murphy's Law kind of a day.

Knitting Circles and Learning Irish

Home is good. I like living in my tower. The tulips are up in the garden. Springtime in New England is across-the-board marvelous.


The problem is that given a moment of idle time I am likely to fill it, which is precisely what I have done. Now I'm taking Irish lessons! It's all Tristan's fault. He has this idea to expand SD to include an Irish language knitting circle...and a tea house. Imagine, hanging out with little old ladies chatting about one's tree of life cable pattern while sipping tea. In my head I'm already there. I haven't learned the words for knit and purl yet. That will come. But I have learned to say hello. (Dia duit! Which sounds like "Gee, a ditch!" I found myself saying that a lot while driving around Donegal but with alarm rather than cheerfulness, and let's face it, "gee" was not always the first word.)

And in other exciting news the giant boxes of woolen goodies have arrived. Now all I need is a sunny day for taking photographs.