Ar ais in aice le 1999, Bhí mé ag caitheamh a lán de na seachtainí amach i Santa Barbara, CA, ag obair do chliant, leaving my poor wife back here in New Jersey alone. I dearly love my wife. I love her just as much today as I did when she foolishly married me 1,000 years or so ago. Áit éigin feadh na líne, I coined a phrase, "special fear", as in "Samantha has special fears." She as a special fear of "bugs", which to her are not flies or ladybugs, but rather microbes. She’s afraid of this or that virus or unusual bacteria afflicting our son, or me, but never really herself. (She is also specially afraid of vampires, miniature evil dolls (especially clowns) and submarine accidents; sí amach-fhás a eagla speisialta daoine gléasta i Santa Claus outfits).

Lá amháin, my co-worker and I decided to drive up into the nearby mountains near Ohai. At one point, we got out of the car to take in the scene. When we got back into the car, I noticed that a tick was on my shoulder. I flicked out the window and that was it.

An oíche sin, I told her about our drive and mentioned the tick. The conversation went something like this:

S: "Oooo! Those are bad. They carry diseases."

P: "Well, Dh'eitil mé é amach an fhuinneog."

S: "They are really bad though. They can get under your skin and suck blood and transfer bugs. You better check your hair and make sure there aren’t any in your head!"

P: I nguth ard: "My God! CAN THEY TAKE OVER YOUR MIND???"

S: Literally shuaimhneas mé: "No, ní bhíonn siad GO dona."

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