London Broil...a second serving

Hopefully Blogspot will cooperate today.

Now, where were we? Ah yes... Saturday's baptismal celebration

Esme gets dunked by the Vicar. (And don't say Vicar like it rhymes with wicker, you 'mericuns. Say it properly (or propa-lee), like the English, with great multitudes of pompousness and self-righteousness, thus rhyming it with "Flicka") Thank you, thank you Henry 8 for such fun words.
What is it about a baby in a photo that makes it impossible to get anyone to look at the camera?

Family Photo

(l-r) Godmother/Aunt Orla, brother Robert holding baby Esme, Granddad/Godfather Neville, Super Simon the Rockin' Pops and the Mum Clo*

*Please note: as I have been threatened with the punishment of death by mutilation if I post any pictures of Manus' cousin Clodagh, the mother of Esme, the role of Clodagh will be played by Penelope-Anne Abernathy, local Clodagh look-alike and impersonator, for the purposes of this blog.

Jake and Jesus sitting in the church.

Now Jake is Orla's son making him Esme's cousin, but given the age difference and the roles that will undoubtedly be played, Jake wishes to be referred to as "Uncle Jake". This is not to be confused with the West Virginian phenomenon whereas your cousin is called "Daddy". Jesus is Clodagh's brother Neville. Now this makes him Esme's uncle, but we call him "Our Father".

Pics from the Party

Katie played with her new friend Poppy.

William and his daddy played with the ceramic toadstool. Later this would be the spot of the infamous dead mouse show-and-tell. Thank god there was an adult there, Malinda, or one of the young innocent children might have picked up the rabid rodent. Oh wait... they did.
Penelope-Anne Abernathy, when playing 'Clodagh' insists on character accuracy, right down to the twisted knee and hospital-issue crutches.

The day was great, not a drop of rain. Lots of food, booze, stories and laughter. The children, when not investigating nature's cycle of life or Wii's endless offerings of virtual fun, were getting their asses kicked by me in the jumbo-sized Connect Four game. good times... good times.

Sunday was pretty much more the same... Steam, Jim Beam and Ice Cream. Or that was the party I attended in Alabama. In Essex it was more like heat, cold meat and bare feet.

But Sunday will have to wait until Thursday as the Princess is calling for her tea.

London Broil

O.M.G. it was H.O.T!

Our London weekend was a lot of fun but it was so, so hot! I'd say it was like we were back in Miami only at least in Miami everything is air-conditioned. In spite of the heat, here are some highlights of our weekend:

Drove to Dublin on Thursday. Dropped off the rental car (again) and checked into the Radisson SAS Airport Hotel. It is a very nice hotel, recently renovated and we had some sort of businessman suite that included a Murphy bed instead of a real bed. This meant that the base of the bed had two metal pieces that stuck out to support the mattress and mangle the feet. After just that one night in the hotel, it will be no surprise if Katie's first words are "Muthafukensumofabitch! I kicked that Gawd-damn thing again".

Manus, Katie and I ventured into Dublin city centre via Airport shuttle 'cause I had my eye on a sushi restaurant I'd seen advertised and Manus knows the rule; "When in Dublin, must have sushi." We ate at a place called Aya. It is conveyor belt sushi - my FAVORITE kind of restaurant. Even better than all-you-can-eat sushi, which is good, but I'm still traumatized by that time I ate at the a.y.c.e. sushi restaurant and ordered too many hand rolls and was smuggling them in my purse to throw away in the ladies room because I was afraid they would charge me for leaving food on my plate and maybe cut off a finger or two. Unfortunately, the sushi wasn't that great, our booth was too high for the highchair and our placement on the belt was very bad. You could see something really interesting coming out from the kitchen but there were too many people between it and us so most of the goodies were snatched up before they could make it our way.

Then the bus we were to catch on the way back just didn't show. Twice. I don't know if that is how they do things in Dublin, but.... We didn't get back to the hotel until 10pm.

Friday, up and to the airport. Quickie flight to Stanstead in London and score one for Hertz Gold Club; the car was waiting for us when we got there. Hertz, unlike the 'Dan Dooley' we are using here has you review a "scratch and dent" diagram to ensure that you return the car the way you got it. As I went into the office/hut to return our signed copy of the damage diagram, Manus popped the trunk open and right into the metal Hertz sign. Quickly I returned to the service desk to add that they failed to mark that the "S" was missing from our VW Pas_at. We should get away with it unless they review their security tapes.

The hotel we were staying in in Essex, where Manus' cousin lives was...small, hot and cranky. Or maybe that was just me. Fortunately each room had its own bathroom, but you had to enter it facing the right way cause there was no turning around once you were there. A window opened to a lovely view of the building next to us and was small enough to avoid letting in any of that pesky breeze. Upon entering it was hard to tell which was our bed and which was Katie's travel crib as the two were the same size. The crib could only fit between the foot of the bed and the wall so every morning at 7am we would wake to Katie grabbing our toes and giggling. P.S. she learned the funniest trick about sniffing your feet and then wrinkling her nose and waving her hand in front of her face while we say "Poo Tinky Toes". the cutest thing. don't know which irresponsible parent taught her that one... We slept in the nude all weekend (all 3 of us) and after each night of sweating up the sheets, it was more than just our toes that were a little "poo tinky".

Anyway, the weekend was not meant for spending in the hotel, it was for family togetherness and cousin Esme's baptism, so lets get to that.

Friday night dinner at Prezzo, a local Italian restaurant. Katie and Esme at the head of the table, natch.

When asked how she liked her dinner, Katie replied in classic Italian fashion-

"Mwah!... Delicioso!"

Who IS this fantastic family??!

You know, I have been trying for the last hour to upload more pictures but BLOGSPOT is having some "internal errors" and I am just getting angry now. So, the story of the rest of the weekend will have to be told tomorrow. (or am I just lazy and I now that I have you captivated by my tale, can lure you back for the rest while I go and TAKE a rest?) You decide.

P.P.S. For all ya'll anon commenters out there, pls sign your name cause it is driving me batty not to know who is saying what. Except Laurie, your rambling, anti-punctuational style is unmistakable - no need to sign.