Postcard from San Francisco

So, I've been home for about 4 days. I had half-expected a sense of letdown at this point, but quite the reverse is the case. If anything, there is a sense of exhilaration about life in general. I'm really enjoying the comforts of being home - being able to play the piano whenever the mood takes me, playing with the kitties, seeing friends again, walking around the neighborhood, catching up on my correspondence, going on a reading binge. (What a binge - my goodreads "currently reading" shelf has expanded to 8 books, which is probably something of an underestimate. And, no, I don't have ADD, I just read very fast - for instance, last night I inhaled Carolyn Parkhurst's wonderful "The Dogs of Babel" in a single, 3-hour sitting).

Part of what contributes to this exhilaration is a sense of deep appreciation for what life has given me, as well as a renewed sense of optimism about the future, buoyed by a sense of accomplishment. Because, you know, I did plan and execute my Spanish adventure. And had a blast. Giving me the confidence to imagine, and start to plan, further adventures.

So I think that Buenos Aires in the new year is a definite possibility. Maybe it's time to set up an Argentinian bookshelf on goodreads.

More bad poetry

There is a volcano in Mexico called Popocapetl.
I have a friend in Minsk who lives in a shtetl
And who, though I can't be sure, I'm willing to bet'll
Never visit Mexico because, if he does he says all he'll get'll
Be a bad case of the revenge of Montezuma
And anyway that his favorite Mexican volcano is Ixtaccihuatl
Because, as volcanoes go, the crater is much roomier.
But rather than visit either Popocapetl or Ixtaccihuatl
he'd rather stay home in his shtetl made of wattle
And not risk invoking the wrath of the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl.

MAINLY BY THE BAY

San Francisco Bay, that is. Got home at around 6pm local time. It's now close to 10pm. I'm going to mail my estimated tax payments to the guvmint, then go to bed.

I am pleased to report that the kitties both seem pleased to see me, and no sulking behavior has been observed so far. In fact, Boris is doing his best dynamo act, purring like a furry furnace.

Perhaps tomorrow I will be more coherent. It's good to be home.

Alma Mater

On Friday afternoon I had a chance to visit my alma mater, University College Cork (UCC). Here are some pictures:

Main quadrangle

Ogham stones

Arch

Honan Chapel
(My parents were married in the Honan Chapel, in 1950)