Of Ginger Tea and Ireland...

If I ask T to get me something at the store on his way home from work or class, eggs for instance, he won't settle for getting only one dozen eggs. Oh no, he shops just like his father :) He buys at least two dozen, maybe three or four. I guess he figures that if I'm asking him to get some, I must be completely out; and if I'm completely out, I must need a lot of whatever-it-is. So I asked him to get me a ginger root to grate into our favorite soup: coconut chicken soup. He comes home with two ginormous ginger roots... Like a good wife, I've been steadily trying to use the abundance of ginger root, but it's Lent now, so we don't have chicken soup as often as we did a month ago. Therefore, I make ginger tea. I cut the ginger into chunks and grate it into hot water (one teaspoon per cup is about right). AND! I discovered today that fresh ginger tea is delicious with a spoonful of sugar (or honey!). I had a whole pot of sweet ginger tea all to myself while I was cleaning up the house and it was wonderful. It was only more wonderful because, as I was bustling around cleaning, I had put on the movie Waking Ned Divine. If you've not seen it, I highly recommend it. Not only is it filmed in Ireland (which is beautiful), with a great (and hilarious) cast, but it's a fantastic story without any violence, sex, drugs (there is alcohol, though), or any of the nail-biting drama so common to movies these days. It's simply a delightful story. It got me thinking about Ireland and how I want to visit there someday. T is thinking about applying to a PhD program in Ireland (well, Ireland and one school on just about every other continent... except Antarctica, I guess). Everything about that small island is intriguing to me.. the music (both their instruments and their voices), the mythology, the people, the language, and the accent! I can totally see us living there for a year or three while my husband goes to school. I'd love to have little Irish babies who says "mummy" instead of "mommy" :) Just a thought, though. Part of being a philosopher's wife is the joyful six-year-old-ness of your spouse. This week he may want to study in Ireland, next week he may want to get a law degree from Stanford in CA. Who knows what may come in the future. And since the future will be full of good byes, no matter where we go or what T finally discerns he should do, I'll leave you with these words from an Irish folk song: My dearest dear, the time draws near when here no longer can I stay There's not a comrade I leave behind, but is grieving for my going away. But since it has so ordered been what is once past can't be recalled Now fill to me the parting glass, good night and joy be with you all!