Breuddwyd coffadwy

Rw i wedi cael breuddwydion a ddalodd tameidiau o Gymraeg o'r blaen, ond dim byd fel yr un oedd gyda fi neithiwr. Ro'n i'n teithio mewn trên, ond ro'n i wedi methu f'arhosiad ac yn cerdded yn ôl tryw'r trên pan ddes i ar draws dau lanciau ac un lances oedd yn eistedd gyda'i gilydd ac yn sgwrsio yn iaith estron. Glywes i lawer o elliau a ddechrawodd rasio 'nghalon i.

Ro'n i'n eisiau deud, "Ydych chi'n siarad Cymraeg?" ond o'n i ffili cofio'r geiriau ac allwn i ddim ond gweiddi "CYMRAEG!". Ofynodd yr lances i fi, "Wyt ti'n siarad Cymraeg?" "Tipyn bach," meddwn i, "tipyn bach iawn!" O'n i'n ffili deall ei chwestiwn nesa, felly ddywedes i "Pam?" Chwerthinodd y dau lanciau. "I was asking what you thought of the air and the land," meddai hi a dangos y cefn gwlad tu fas i'r ffenestr.

(Oedd rhagor na hyn, ond aroses i'n rhy hir cyn ei rhoi ar glawr.)

Another century, another president

While I wrote about how e., bunj, and I were stalled for a half-hour outside of Lincoln, Illinois, on our Christmas trip down to St Louis, I failed to mention how we passed the time stuck in traffic: bunj used his Blackberry to download trivia about the vincinity. From this, we learned that Lincoln was the only town to be named for Honest Abe during his lifetime. (Three years would elapse before Lincoln, Nebraska would see light of day, and then as "Lancaster".) bunj read aloud the inspirational story of our beloved prairie lawyer christening the town with a watermelon. Somehow, though, he failed to find mention of the life-sized watermelon monument that stands on the site. It's No. 1 in Roadside America's List of the Loopiest Lincoln Landmarks, but it's really No. 6 that takes the...er, cake.