Luck of the Irish

I decided to give in and accept the sunlight up here, since I won't be seeing much of it in Seward. I can't believe I leave in a week--I'm partly excited and partly sad. I would be wholly excited if it weren't for Peter, I think. That punk.

So anyway, I spent almost two hours out in the sunlight today, which may not seem like much, but considering I've had virtually no sun for two years, it's kind of a lot. Besides, I don't think getting a sunburn sounds like a very pleasant idea.

Yesterday, I went to Peter's place for an Irish-themed potluck dinner. We had rabbit and two dishes I can't remember the names of that were based on (guess what) potatoes. There were also some really good scones and garlic bread, and dessert was a chocolate mousse pie with whipped cream on top and Irish Cream mixed in. I have to say, I enjoyed Irish Cream in hot chocolate when I tried it so many months ago, but I like chocolate mousse better without it. Maybe it was a different brand or something, but the taste was a little too strong for me.

After our stomachs settled, a girl named Deanna (who is apparently "Irish American") taught us Irish step-dancing. Well, some of us. Of the eleven people there, only about five of us were young/spry/daring enough to try it, and by the end of the lesson, Peter and Deanna and I were the only ones that hadn't given up. I'm not much of a dancer; in fact, I usually feel self-conscious and ridiculous when I try to dance, but Irish step-dancing came completely naturally to me, and within an hour, I had learned the full dance while everyone who hadn't given up yet was still working on hop-step-step-step. Deanna started teaching me a different one that she said is normally only taught to people after they've been dancing for a year and a half. I expect that she was partly just being nice, but it made me feel good anyway. (From having taught people juggling tricks so often, I'm well familiar with the tactic of telling someone they're doing well: it gives them confidence, which helps them learn faster.)

After that, one of the people there asked how Peter and I met, and as we told the story, I mentioned the words "juggling club" and immediately, he demanded to be shown some juggling tricks. So I showed off a bit and then offered to teach him. Peter and I never did get to finish our story, but that's all right.

After that, everyone left except Peter, Peter's friend Robert, and Peter's landlord, Jim. (And myself.) Jim taught us how to play Cribbage. Then Robert left, and Jim went to bed, and Peter and I went downstairs for some boxing practice. I already had sweat literally dripping off my face from the Irish step-dancing, but I enjoy martial arts, and Peter's a great teacher. Even though he did punch me square in the face and tell me it was because my nose is too soft. (In reality, I think it was a reminder that I dropped my front hand too low.) So my muscles are killing me today. But it's a good kind of hurt.

This post has been brought to you by the word ramfeezled.