“A wizard is never late. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.”

~ from The Fellowship of the Ring. May be attributable to Tolkien or Jackson, unsure which, but the line was Gandalf’s in any case.

A collection of friends has arrived and has been welcomed into the home.

I have a home of my own to welcome people into, now.

The cat took to each of them right away. She was more than content to receive plenty of affection, but she left a few scratches on several different arms.

Went out and got sushi and discussed stories, some of which were from the Ulster Cycle. Drove to a café listening to Hozier and RÓIS.

Sat in a café and read some truly emotionally devestating fiction. The writer, who was sitting right next to me, was immensely pleased with himself when I was *properly emotionally devastated* in response to reading the story. You could tell because of the misgevious grin.

Experienced bouldering and auto belaying at a local climbing gym. Was excellent fun.

Later we said “sláinte,” raising glencairnes with shots of something called Nobel Oak Double Bourbon Whiskey in a toast and clinking them together. Listened to IMLÉ and Picture This and The East Pointers and Sarah Jaroz. Should have remembered to put on some Riverdance or Aoife O’Donovan. Stayed up late into the night swapping stories and discussing some of the geopolitical history and anthropology and linguistics local to Ireland.

I mostly listened – got out my knitting. Am working on a scarf that’s pale blue and gray.

Woke up the next morning, worked on a jigsaw puzzle, had coffee and breakfast. Put on a vinyl record of Foy Vance’s Joy of Nothing. Discussed paintings and also catholicism.

Went to the park and walked through the woods. It was a nice day. Learned some things about tree identification. Saw a doe. As we walked back we stopped in the shade and talked about the importance of community access to libraries. We considered the dangers of censorship and book burning and the influence of reading about dark and interesting subjects as a small child. We also talked about poetry. The words of Yates made an appearance.

Created and refined characters for a game, then studied some basic things about how to play. There are colorful and satisfyingly tactile dice involved which make an enjoyable clattering sound when they are rolled across a table. While there are some numerical calculations involved in the game, they aren’t terribly difficult to work with.

Drove there and back again listening to Capercaille.

After the first to leave had left the first to arrive fell asleep on the couch, and when she woke up we had tea and studied more about the game and listened to a podcast. Early in the morning her wife arrived with hashbrowns for everybody.

And then we said goodbye.

“Slan go fóill.”