see ya later

editor's note: this post was supposed to have the below photo running all week while we were gone. For some reason, blogger didn't like it and kicked the photo off. Until we get a chance to get unpacked and stuff, you can look at this second attempt to put this picture up so you all would know that we were not going to be posting for a bit.

joe

This is my fish joe. joe happens to be one of the few words I have mastered to this point, so I like to yell his name frequently throughout the day. He wasn't eating real well at first, but seems to have gotten used to living with me now and he is a pretty good eater. I have done my best to make him feel at home and try to make a point of showing him my trucks whenever I can get a lift up to his level. Dad and mom put him up on a shelf so I only get to really talk to him when they're around. I'm getting a sense that there are certain things with which they do not trust me: joe, things generally categorized as "hot", and about half of the electronic devices around this place. I'm still not real clear on which devices have been designated as safe yet, so I have to check each device about, oh I'd say every 10 minutes or so to check on their safe/not safe status. I'm pretty sure the dvd player is off limits, which is really too bad since I have just taught myself how to get a movie off the shelf, load it into the tray, close it, turn the TV on, and start the movie.

Dia duit

I'm learning Irish. I've long known about my Scottish heritage on my mother's side, but thanks to my aunt megs and her family geneology grad school project, we've got Irish people popping up left and right on the old family tree. So I thought the least I could do to honour (note my homage to the old spelling of the word) my celtic roots was spend a day at an Irish pub, with my dad's most Irish friend--Conneally. So that was my first Irish lesson, or at least my first 'Irish-looking kid who lives in Boston' lesson.

Though the above may be true, that wasn't the real reason I was there. Some of dad's friends, who happen to be more brave/crazy/not so bright took a brief dip in the atlantic at revere beach to raise money for special olympics as well as a soccer team for disabled kids. The not-as-brave/less crazy/brighter of us just met them afterword for the celebration. It was fun. The Irish bartender/waitress even called my little flashlight a torch. Those crazy Irish. I'm already looking forward to next year.

Oh, I was going to tell you the translation of my greeting, but I'll bet most of you already googled it by now. The other half may not want to select the first google option as it has music that autoplays, which annotying and is bad netiquette. But go ahead, google it, the second option is a nice little Irish/Gaelic page.

I'm ready

I got my gloves on, who wants to go out and play?