I'm really taken with the first sentence.

And I have blogged about the Blessing, blogged about Lucky, blogged about California, blogged about Las Vegas, blogged far too much about vodka in its many wonderful and exciting shapes and sizes but I don't think I have blogged about Wales.

I think I confused the man who came to the door just over a week ago, collecting all the registration for vote forms. He wanted to know what an American wearing a Welsh rugby shirt was doing living in a Victorian seaside town in County Antrim and claiming the right to vote [we can thank the dual nationality act of 1948 for that one]. I, like Cerys, am thankful every day that I am Welsh (california welsh, but hey I consider that to be the best of two worlds). I wish the boys could do better against the Irish each Spring and well there really is no choice when it comes to England v. Wales (does any one have to think for long on that one?). But I do love Wales. I love the North (where parts of my family still live) with the mountains sweeping down to the seas. I love the ruins and the tourist sites. I remember donkey rides on the beach and watching punch and judy shows (I also remember going to Disneyland every year--like I said, the best of two worlds). I love the bridge at Conwy my grandfather worked on.

I do, of course, regret I don't speak Welsh. I know a few words. I took it as a subject for year. But I have no one to speak it with. No papers to read. I suppose I could now watch Welsh television thanks to sky and I could give it another go. But part of me says that if I am ever to learn another language to any great fluency (and I once had it with French) I should pick something useful like French or Spanish (I think the H had said that too). But I wish I had more fluency in cymraeg. And of course I wish the Blessing, with her Welsh name, could speak it too.