Irish Shabbat

Well, here I am holding down the fort, while A&K drive to Knoxville.  This place doesn’t have Bigfoot and his crashing boots upstairs, but I think it has ghosts!  It’s a very creaky house, especially all night with strong wind gusts.  I’m getting used to it.  Maybe tonight I’ll sleep.

Today I just stayed out of the way while Avdi got ready for the trip, and got some needed rest.  After they left, I started on my List!  Naturally I had a chores list and whipped it out.  Gotta stay productive.  I threw out all the science experiments in the refrigerator before they evolved and walked away of their own accord.

Top of the list: Percy the Person and his salad that I promised him.  He is one happy Pig.  I’ve started to speak Guinea Pig and he keeps looking at me funny.  Like I insulted his mother or something.  Must be the accent.

Now I’m drinking some good Irish–sláinte!–not too much, being on antibiotics.  And waiting nervously for that infamous other shoe, more like a Bigfoot boot.  I should write a bleak existential Irish poem about footwear.  I figure no news is good news, for now.

You know, the hardest thing to do is learn to savor and soak up the moment of blissful ignorance before the storm, and store it in reserve like solar cells for a rainy day.  Now we’re getting into lame weather metaphor territory, my specialty.

Shabbat will be different with nobody here, but we adapt.  I didn’t bake challah, for obvious reasons.  I did defrost some beef potato veg stew and dump all the leftover basmati into it, not bad.  (I froze last night’s dal, two meal’s worth.)  So for any of my 2.5 readers who are worried I’m not eating, rest assured.  I’m not my mother, yet!  Here’s proof:

I’ll leave off for now with some St. Patrick’s Day color from down in the “lab”, where the other science project lives.  One of these is, appropriately enough, a potato plant I grew for fun from Avdi’s sprouting Cthulhu in the pantry.  I am the Propagatrix.  It’s an addiction.








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