Dear Readers,

I was shocked to realize that I haven’t put out one of my blogs for almost a month, but life has been busy.

Pinch, pinch, pinch.  I still can’t believe that I took a two-week trip alone to Ireland, land of many of my ancestors, and Switzerland, land of my good friends, and also a few ancestors.  Now I’m back home in Cramer Hill and after a week of walking around in a fog (jet lag),  then I had to help my family more than usual because my brother got the flu.

There is so much I could say about my trip and I will in the next blog.  Today I’ll just say that the Irish breakfast is a generous one and I didn’t even take one-fifth of all the offerings.  I skipped the many choices of meat and oatmeals.  I did NOT skip the incredible fresh round rolls and the also incredible Irish butter.

I thought of my dad and how he would have loved having beans and tomatoes on his breakfast plate.  Maybe he’s getting them in heaven.  I thought of my mother and how she would love the fresh breads and butter–although she still does get Pepperidge Farm cinnamon raisin bread that she enjoys.

My husband would have liked the chocolate chip bread for sure.  My daughter would have been a fan of the oatmeal–something she used to eat at college after running with the softball team.  My son-in-law would have been ecstatic, as I was, to have a big teapot at breakfast.  Not those stingy pots that you get in most restaurants!

Mmmm.  The coffee was also good, hot and strong–everyone would have liked it.

It felt a little odd to eat alone every morning at first, but Jurys Inn Parnell Street in Dublin provided its hotel guests with newspapers and I do love my newspapers.  Irish politics, American politics and sports, sports and more sports filled the two newspapers that were there for the hotel restaurant guests.   Ashamed to say, but I figured out that rugby and soccer were definitely two different sports while over there!

There I was–in a “foreign” land–but able to read the newspapers–ha ha!  I do read English.  There were some newspaper columns in the Irish language and I am impressed that my ancestors spoke it long, long ago.  They must have been smart because it looks extremely difficult!  It doesn’t look a bit like English–and why should it?  I could not pick out one word.

So, anyway, dear readers, I’m back in the USA, recovered from jet lag and thinking about the Irish breakfast and newspapers.  I was alone, but with newspapers and thoughts of loved ones.