Dé Sathairn

Níor éirigh mé go dtí a hocht a chlog inné. Chomh sómhar leis! Ina dhiaidh sin rinne mé an níochán, nigh mé na soithí agus ghlan mé an chistin.

I ndiaidh an lóin chuaigh mé ag rámhaíocht le cairde. Bhuel, d'iomair mise mo bhád agus chéaslaigh siadsan cadhc. Chuaigh muid timpeall Inse Smith san inbhear Abhann Snohomish.

Chuaigh mo chara Steve suas an tsruthán contráilte ["in Ulster bei femininen und maskulinen Substantiven: ag an tsagart = beim Priester," www.braesicke.de/thnd.htm#t], agus bhí orm a dhul sa tóir air agus a chur ina luí air go raibh sé mícheart. Tá eolach ar na srutháin agamsa; rámhaím ansin na blianta. Bhí Steve an chéad uair ann agus ní raibh aon léarscáil aige—ach is fear é, dá bhrí sin tá a fhios aigesean níos mó ná atá agamsa -- ceapann sé! D'fhéadfadh Steve bheith iontach ceanndána, ach tá mise níos dáighe na seisean, go háirithe nuair atá an ceart agam. Tar éis argóinte fada ard (bhí muid faoi dhroichead iarnróid) chuaigh muid ar ais, ach mheil muid a lán ama.

Ina dhiaidh sin chuaigh sé trasna creasa uisce tanaí ach ní chuaigh muid ar thalamh ar an fhearsaid mhór as siocair go raibh lán mara ann.

Tháinig muid ar ais ar dhul ó sholas dó, rud atá an-bhaolach,
buíochas le Steve.

Fir!

On Saturday I did not get up until eight o’clock. How luxurious! Then I did laundry, washed dishes, and cleaned the kitchen.

After lunch I went rowing with two friends. Well, I rowed and they paddled a kayak. We went around Smith Island in the sloughs of the Snohomish River.

My friend Steve went down the wrong slough and I had to run him down and convince him he was wrong. I know these sloughs; I have rowed in them for years. Steve was there for the first time and did not have a map, but he is a guy. Therefore, he knows more than I do—he thinks! Steve can be very pig-headed, but I am more stubborn than he, especially when I am right. After a long and loud argument (we were under a railway bridge), we went back, but we lost a lot of time.

After that, he went across a shallow area, but we did not run aground on the big sandbar because the tide was high. We got back after dark, which is very dangerous, thanks to Steve.

Men!

***Fáilte roimh cheartúcháin!***

Geansaithe

Tá an geansaí Elmo críochnaithe — Féach!

Beidh an chéad gheansaí eile a chniotálfaidh mé do mo gharmhac—beidh sé gorm le pictiúr lachín rubair air—ach beidh geansaí ina dhiaidh do mé féin. Beidh sé bánbhuí le cloigeann (bánbhuí fosta) air agus roinnt roistí a dhéanfaidh mé d'aon ghnó ar na himill. Beidh sé beagán "punc" agus beagán "goth" é, ach i ndóigh chaolchúiseach. Beidh sé sultmhar dom é a cniotáil.

The Elmo sweater is finished--look!

The next sweater I knit will be for my grandson--it will be blue with a picture of a rubber ducky on it--but the sweater after that will be for me. It will be cream-colored with a skull (also cream-colored) on it and a few runs [ladders] that I will make on purpose around the edges. It will be a little punk, a little goth, but subtle. It will be fun to knit.

***Fáilte roimh cheartúcháin!***

Timpeall Inse Lummi

Ar an Lá Oibre rámhaigh mé féin agus cara ár mbáid timpeall Inse Lummi. Ba breá an lá é, grianmhar ach ní róthe. Uaireanta bhí an t-uisce ciúin agus uaireanta bhí sé iontach suaite. (Is áibhéil bheag an pictiúr sin!) Uair amháin bhí an sruth chomh láidir go rámhaigh muid ar feadh leathuaire agus níor thaistil muid ach míle amháin! Tá dúil agam in uisce suaite a rámhaíocht go crua, ach uaireanta, nuair bhí na tonnta an-mhór, bhí imrí orm go rachadh mo bhád thar a corp—tá an bad beag éadrom-- ach níor tharlaigh dada. Ar an drochuair, níor chonaic muid míolta móra nó deilfeanna, ach chonaic muid cuid mhór rónta agus smugairlí róine gleoite dathannacha. Rámhaigh muid fiche mílte i cúig huaire.

On Labor Day, a friend and I rowed our boats around Lummi Island. It was a beautiful day, sunny but not too hot. Sometimes the water was smooth and sometimes it was very rough. (That picture is a small exaggeration.) At one point, the current was so strong that we rowed for half an hour but covered only one mile! I like rowing hard in rough water, but sometimes when the waves were very big, I was worried that my boat would capsize—it is a small light boat—but nothing happened. Unfortunately, we did not see whales or dolphins, but we saw many, many seals and beautiful colorful jellyfish. We rowed 20 miles in five hours.

***Fáilte roimh cheartúcháin!***

Paloma

Tá mé ag leamh leabhar Gaeilge—bhuel, ní leabhar é go baileach ach comhaid PDF. Fuair mé trí caibidil leabhair darbh ainm Paloma ar an idirlíon. Is leabhar do fhoghlaimeoirí é. Tá na habairtí shimplí, ach tá mé ag foghlaim mórán focal nua, agus tá dúil agam a fheiceáil cad é mar a chóimeáladh na habairtí. Tá mé na caibidlí sin léite agus d'ordaigh mé an leabhar as Schoenhof’s ionas go mbeidh mé ábalta an fuílleach a léamh.

Is í Paloma bleachtaire óg sa Garda Síochána i mBaile Átha Cliath. Déanann sí praiseach de chas agus tugtar céim síos di. Cuirtear í siar, go dtí sráidbhaile aonraithe. Tá sí gruama—ní bleachtaire níos mó í, caithfidh sí éide a chaitheamh uair amháin eile, agus níl cairde i mBealach Caol aici. Ach tá teifigh lonnaithe sa champa carbhán—beidh seo tábhachtach ar ball, ach níl a fhios agam cén fáth go fóill.

Ní mór dom a fhanacht go dtiocfaidh mo leabhar, sula go raibh mé ábalta na caibidlí eile a léamh.

I am reading an Irish book—well, it’s not really a book but some PDF files. I found three chapters of a book called Paloma on the internet. It is a book for learners. The sentences are simple, but I am learning many new words and I like to see how the sentences were constructed. I have read those chapters and have ordered the book from Schoenhof’s so that I can read the rest of the book.

Paloma is a young detective in the Garda Síochána in Dublin. She messes up a case, and is demoted. She is sent west to an isolated village. She is unhappy--she is no longer a detective, she must wear a uniform once more, and she has no friends there. But there are refugees housed in the caravan park. That will be important, but I don’t know why yet.

I have to wait until my book arrives to read the other chapters.

***Fáilte roimh cheartúcháin!***

Ceoltóir Mí-ionraic

Tá Abby ina ceoltóir. Fuair ceoltóir eile a fidil ar iasacht chuici a thástáil. (Bíonn muinín ag ceoltóirí as a chéile.) Ach ní bhíodh an ceoltóir sin ionraic ar chor ar bith. Níor thug sé an fhidil ar ais agus níor íoc sé aisti ach oiread. Scríobh Abby faoi sin ina blag. Is é seo mo fhreagra do chor Abby.

Ó, Abby bhocht! A leithéid de scéal coscrach! Níl i gChris Whitten ach gadaí. B'iontach mí-ionraic uaidh sin do fhidil a choimeád dó féin gan íoc aisti. Tá dóchas agam go inseoidh tú do scéal do na Gardaí.

Abby is a musician. Another musician borrowed her fiddle to try it out. (Musicians trust each other.) But this musician was not at all honest. He did not return the fiddle and he did not pay for it either. Abby wrote about this in her blog. This is my response to Abby’s predicament.

Oh, poor Abby! What a distressing story! Chris Whitten is nothing but a thief. That was very dishonest of him to keep your fiddle without paying for it. I hope you tell your story to the police.

***Fáilte roimh cheartúcháin!***