You may think it's funny, but it's snot

A big hearty congratulations to my cousin Sarah on her nuptials this past Saturday in Johnstown, Pennyslvania. She married her long-time boyfriend Tommy Riffle. I've only received limited recounts of the party, but as my dad said, "the beer was cold and a good music DJ." I'm not sure if he was aware that his sentence didn't make sense, but that in and of itself is a sign that it was a pretty great party.

This union brings me to today's topic because their wedding announcement will read "Priest-Riffle" wedding. (Sarah's last name was Priest). Bear with me today if things don't make sense as I am all hocked up on cold medicine and can't think straight enough to deliver another installment of Laura's Ireland visit. So, Priest Riffle. That to me is a sniglet. I think the definition would be 'the sound a priest's robes make when he walks down the aisle' or, now that they are all outfitted with portable microphones, it could be 'the sound a priest makes (accidentally) during silent prayers which he then tries to blame on the scuffing of his shoes'.

My friend once dated a man and she said with humorous dismay that theirs would be the "Huge-Fruit" wedding. Fortunately, she is marrying a great guy named Denny Nelson. The two of us (Frum and Fruit) feel that we definitely "married up" (if only in last name).

I know this funny name union is a bit from Leno, but my head is doing swirlies and curly-Qs so I cannot be relied upon for original material today.

Also, if you look at the picture of Tommy above, besides him having 4 arms like the Hindu god Shiva, he looks as though he is channeling Johnny Carson's The Great Karnak.

For these reasons, I think Mr. Leno will let me steal his thunder.










All good stuff.

On a very serious note, my brother-in-law Brian is in hospital in Dublin right now with an acute case of appendicitis. I think he is in the operating room (theatre) as I type. Please keep him in your thoughts and prayers. Think of him 5 times and you will receive great fortune. If you don't pray for him within the next 10 minutes, you will have very bad luck. Send this blog on to 14 fabulous, funny, smart women to make their day. Don't break this chain or gremlins will eat your brains while you sleep! This wish has gone around the world 13,456 times! Don't let it stop with you! or poor little Brian won't get his appendix took out.

Truth be told, his treatment could have been dangerously delayed, for when Brian first went to the doctor, the MD examined him and said, "Well, Brian, I think you have acute appendicitis." Brian, blushing, said, "Doctor, I came here for medical advice, not for some stupid come-on!"... (but thanks, and your's ain't so bad either.)




I cannot take credit for the above joke. But I did insert the "Brian" where it used to say "Dumb Blonde". That took some work. Donations will be accepted.

Aye! Que buena! Es Cinco de Mayo

Hola! Para cinco de mayo, yo voy a escribir en espanol solamente. Primera, felicidados a mis amigos Kristy y Nick. Es un ano que ellos son casados. Por favor, bebe son cervesas para mi!
quesadilla, tamale, conquistador, siesta, la isla bonita.... okay, those are all the spanish words I know. Sorry to say, but that language is about as useless here as my Pilon cortadito cups and my frozen margarita yard dog are. I've just packed them right back up...

But sincerely, Happy Anniversary to the Hajimahalis-es (es-es-es). How do you pluralize their name? (And notice when you say it in your head its hard to stop the sssss sound)
As promised yesterday, here are some pictures of our Sunday: The weatherman predicted rain storms for the day. Fortunately for us, their accuracy ranks right up there with the Miami Dolphin's... well, anything, so as you can see, it was nothing but blue skies smiling on me.
This is what Katie and I look like everyday as we walk along Kells Road going into town.

We had lunch at the Ormonde Hotel with (clockwise from the bottom) Katie, Niall, Nana Kay, Brian, Bronwyn, Manus and Empty Chair.
After lunch, we walked over to the castle park. Kilkenny is known as the medieval capital of Ireland. Maybe even the world. But anyway, right in the middle of town there is the Kilkenny Castle. It was in the Butler family for about 800 years, but they donated it to the national heritage conservation perservation league organization in the 1960s. (see pictures below). The castle's backyard, slightly larger than our own, has become a public park with a jogging trail and a small playground. The swings are the only thing working on the playground. Fortunately for Katie, its all she could have played on anyway!
Katie looks on while our friend Jimmy (a small man; only the size of Katie's head, Jimmy was at a distinct disadvantage when it came to sports), Manus and Brother Brian (sibling, not monk) puck the- whack the puck -hurl the - what's the terminology? They play catch with their hurleys and slioters (bat and ball)
After the boys wore themselves out running after the missed balls (5 minutes) we walked down along the River Nore on the edge of the castle grounds and to our left was this ruin (pronounced roooooon) of what may have been a mill. - One hundred years from now will someone be stopping to take a picture of an abandoned Wal-Mart? I don't think so. There is just something magical about Ireland....


We were sitting outside of the Rivercourt hotel across the river from the castle having a few cold ciders with friends Jimmy and Pat when Katie said, "Hey, Mom! You and I should take a picture together in front of the castle!" (bossy turd... always telling us what to do)
Then we went home, had a pepperoni pizza and watched some movie with Zack Braff. You can take the girl out of America, but you cant take the america out of the girl. Least not yet... A couple more picture perfect days like this though, and we might be able to work a deal...