Knock, Knock

Who's There?
Irish-American.
Irish-American Who?

I 'rish' Ameri can tell a better joke than Malinda

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

(Who the hell is Ameri?)

No, really, I just made that one up. I swear. I've thought up a few humdingers in my day, not that I like to brag or anything. The saddest thing is that I made up a real doozy of a joke one night while I was laying in bed (not sleeping) and I can't for the life of me think of what it was...
The people of earth suffer for my forgetfulness.

But, in talking about American stereotypes the other day, I got to thinking of all the Irish stereotypes we see in the jokes told by Americans. How many jokes do you know with "Father Murphy" or "Old Paddy Joe" or "An Irishman, a German, and a whatever..." or "That Irishman who loves Whiskey" - (oh wait, that one's Manus..) But my point is, there are a lot of "Irish Jokes".

Well, I set out to see what jokes the Irish tell about Americans.

And there aren't any. There are redneck jokes and well, George Bush jokes... But those are jokes we tell ourselves. And, apparently, they are Jokes we elect President. Twice. Who is laughing now?

There just doesnt seem to be an American Joke genre here in Ireland. Or Europe. I think they feel we do and say enough IN REAL LIFE that they find really hysterical. No need to make up shit. I dunno.

But I did find some few jokes that I think have an air of truth about them, and I share them with you now...

After the Irish Beer Festival in Dublin, all the brewery
presidents decided to go out for a beer. The guy from Corona sits down and says, "Hey Senor, I would like the world's best beer, a Corona." The bartender dusts off a bottle from the shelf and gives it to him. The guy from Budweiser says, "I'd like the best beer in the world, give me 'The King Of Beers', a Budweiser." The bartender gives him one. The guy from Coors says, "I'd like the only beer made with Rocky Mountain spring water, give me a Coors." He gets it. The guy from Guinness sits down and says, "Give me a Coke." The bartender is a little taken aback, but gives him what he ordered. The other brewery presidents look over at him and ask "Why aren't you drinking a Guinness?" and the Guinness president replies, "Well, I figured if you guys aren't drinking beer, neither would I."

And remember the story I told about the singer... what's his name? He played with Donovan... And he didn't want a whiskey cause he was a recovering alcoholic, he'd just have a glass of Guinness?

An Irish man walks into a pub. The bartender asks him, "What'll
you have?" The man says, "Give me three pints of Guinness please." So the bartender brings him three pints and the man proceeds to alternately sip one, then the other, then the third until they're gone. He then orders three more. The bartender says, "Sir, I know you like them cold. You don't have to order three at a time. I can keep an eye on it and when you get low, I'll bring you a fresh cold one." The man says, "You don't understand. I have two brothers, one in Australia and one in the States. We made a vow to each other that every Saturday night we'd still drink together. So right now, my brothers have three Guinness Stouts too, and we're drinking together. The bartender thought that was
a wonderful tradition. Every week the man came in and ordered three beers. Then one week he came in and ordered only two. He drank them and then ordered two more. The bartender said to him, "I know what your tradition is, and I'd just like to say that I'm sorry that one of your brothers died." The man said, "Oh, me brothers are fine----I just quit drinking."

North Dubliners don’t like the South Dubliners because they think they are
righteous snobs. South Dubliners don’t like the North ‘cause they don’t get out
of the shower to pee.

These are a few I found on a website posted BY Irishmen so they can't get offended, and there must be a bit of truth in them too.

An Englishman, a Scotsman and an Irishman went into a pub for a pint of Guinness one day. After being served a fly landed in each of their pints and stuck in the creamy heads. The Englishman pushed his pint away from him in disgust and proceeded to order another pint. The Scotsman simply fished the offending fly out with his finger and proceeded to drink his pint as if nothing had happened. The Irishman, eyes wide with anger grabbed the fly and held it over his pint shouting "SPIT IT OUT!!! SPIT IT OUT YOU BASTARD!!!"

A new priest at his first mass was so nervous he couldn't stand still. He asked Father Murphy for some advice. Father Murphy replied, "When I'm worried about gettin' nervous on the pulpit, I take a wee bit o'whiskey. Just to calm my nerves” So the next Sunday he took the older priest's advice. Before the mass, he got nervous and took a drink. He then proceeded to talk up a storm. Upon return to his office after mass, he found the following note on his door:

1. A few sips of whiskey. Not the whole bottle.

2. There are 10 commandments, not 12.

3. There are 12 disciples, not 10.

4. Jesus was consecrated, not constipated.

5. Jacob wagered his donkey, he did not bet his ass.

6. We do not refer to Jesus Christ as the late J.C.

7. The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are not referred to as Senior,
Junior, and the Spook.

8. David slew Goliath, he did not kick the shit out of him.

9. When David was hit by a rock and knocked off his donkey, don't say "He was
stoned off his ass."

10. We do not refer to the cross as the Big T!

11. Jesus broke the bread at the Last Supper he said, "Take this and eat it, for it
is my body"; he did not say, "Eat me."

12. The Virgin Mary is not referred to as the, "Mary with the Cherry".

13. The recommended grace before a meal is not: "Rub-A-dub-dub, thanks for the grub, yea God"

14. Next Sunday there will be a taffy-pulling contest at St. Patrick's, not a patrick-pulling contest at St. Taffy's.

A ventriloquist visiting Wicklow, walks into a small village and sees a local sitting on his porch patting his dog. He figures he'll have a little fun, so he says to the Wicklowman "Can I talk to your dog?"
Villager:"The dog doesn't talk, you stupid git."
Ventriloquist:"Hello dog, how's it going mate?"
Dog: "Doin' all right."
Villager: (look of extreme shock)
Ventriloquist: "Is this villager your owner?" (pointing at the villager)
Dog: "Yep"
Ventriloquist: "How does he treat you?"
Dog: "Real good. He walks me twice a day, feeds me great food and
takes me to the lake once a week to play."
Villager: (look of utter disbelief)
Ventriloquist: "Mind if I talk to your horse?"
Villager: "Uh, the horse doesn't talk either....I think."
Ventriloquist: "Hey horse, how's it going?"
Horse: "Cool"
Villager: (absolutely dumbfounded)
Ventriloquist: "Is this your owner?" (pointing at the villager)
Horse: "Yep"
Ventriloquist: "How does he treat you?"
Horse: "Pretty good, thanks for asking. He rides me regularly, brushes me down often and keeps me in the barn to protect me from the elements."
Villager: (total look of amazement)
Ventriloquist: "Mind if I talk to your sheep?"
Villager: (in a panic) "The sheep's a liar!"

Now this last one isn't Irish, but it pretty much explains how I feel when I'm in town shopping (pretend that I am the one asking for the sausages.)

Everyone is in a hurry to scream 'racism' these days!

'In what aisle could I find the Polish sausage?'
The clerk looks at him and says, 'Are you Polish?'
The guy (clearly offended) says, 'Well, yes I am. But let me ask you something.
If I had asked for Italian sausage would you ask me if I were Italian?
Or if I had asked for feta cheese, would you ask me if I were Greek ?
Or if I had asked for German bratwurst, would you ask me if I wereGerman?
Or if I asked for a kosher hot dog would you ask me if I were Jewish?
Or if I had asked for a Taco would you ask if I were Mexican? Wouldyou? Would you?'
The clerk says, 'Well, no!'
'If I asked for some Irish whiskey, would you ask if I were Irish?'
'Well, I probably wouldn't!'
With deep self-righteous indignation, the
guy says, 'Well then, whydid you ask me if I'm Polish because I asked
for Polish sausage?'

The clerk replies, 'Because you're at Home Depot.'

Proud to be an American

ABROAD, adj. At war with savages and idiots. To be a Frenchman abroad is to be miserable; to be an American abroad is to make others miserable.

- Ambrose Bierce, The Enlarged Devil's Dictionary


Oh really, France?


Lookie what I found in Time magazine...

Most Obnoxious Tourists? The French
Friday, Jul. 04, 2008 By BRUCE CRUMLEY / PARIS
A poll reveals that the French are now considered the most obnoxious tourists among Europeans.

Remember the tightwad tourist whose baggy shorts, frequent complaining
and shouted questions about why none of the locals spoke any English made the
ugly American the world's Visitor from Hell? Well, it's time for Archie Bunker to move over and make way for Petulant Pierre.
According to a recent international survey, the French are now considered the
most obnoxious tourists from European nations, behind only Indians and the
last-place Chinese as the worst among countries worldwide.

I dunno... there are a lot or American tourists here in these glorious days of summer and I've gotten quite good at picking them out even before I hear them speak (clearly and from across a crowded room)

The Encarta dictionary defines "Ugly American" as: stereotypical offensive American: a loud, boorish, nationalistic American, especially one traveling abroad, who is regarded as conforming to a stereotype that gives Americans a bad reputation. In contrast, Dictionary.com defines "the Ugly American" as: Pejorative term for Americans traveling or living abroad who remain ignorant of local culture and judge everything by American standards.

Wikipedia has some interesting tidbits of information

http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Ugly_American&oldid=224504443

How many American tourists does it take to change a light bulb?

Fifteen. Five to figure out how much the bulb costs in the local currency, four to comment on "how funny-looking" local lightbulbs are, three to hire a local person to change the bulb, two to take pictures, and one to buy postcards in case the pictures don't come out.

Sorry Im so boring today. That third vodka last night was a bad idea.

I know, ya know?

Sometimes you don't even know what you don't know and that is a lesson I am learning here.

I was standing in line at the bank the other day (actually I was queuing as we are in Europe) and an officially looking lady with a name tag identifying her as a bank employee came up to me and asked me, "Are you okay?" I immediately took personal inventory. Am I wearing pants? yes. Did I start crying without my own knowledge? no. Oh shit, did I leave Katie somewhere and I am now pushing along an empty stroller (pram, buggy, pushcart)? no. So, I was able to answer quite assuredly that yes, thank you, I am fine. She looked at me strangely and me to her wondering why she had asked me. She then moved on to the next person in line and asked them the same. Only this time the gentleman responded, "I wish to open an account." And I realized: She was asking what I wanted, not what my general state of mental health was. Are you okay? is the Irish way of saying Can I help you?. But how was I supposed to know?

Two weeks ago we asked a cab driver for his card as there are no 888-8888 taxi companies in Kilkenny. They all work independently and all carry a stash of business cards at the ready. Later that day, we called the driver asking for a pick-up from our house into town. When the taxi got there we got in and off we went. Not that I would have noticed that this was not the driver from whom we got the card earlier, but turns out, it wasn't and this driver himself made mention of it. He said he was the one picking us up cause the driver we called was "on his T". I thought for sure that meant he was on his break and had passed along the job to his friend. But, Im getting smart enough to know that I can't assume these things so asked Manus when we got out if in fact that was what he meant. No, it means he was eating dinner. So, technically yes, he was on break, but he was on his tea and tea can mean tea or tea can mean dinner. Im not sure if you have to drink tea with your dinner for this to be true, but I can live without that detail.

As part of my job search Manus' mother suggested I go down to the local recruitment office and register with them. So last Friday I stopped in at FAS recruiters and filled out the forms. When I was telling Manus about it later and how unhelpful I found the F-A-S, he stopped me. It's fas (say faucet and drop the 'cet' part) Its a word, not a set of initials. Its an Irish word and it means "growth" or something like that. I would have been walking around still saying f.a.s. had he not so graciously shown me the error of my ways.

And pronunciation problems don't stop there. The irish language is filled with unlikely bedfellows. Whereas we are comfortable with th- and sh- type digraphs in English, the Irish match up unlikely pairs such as mh or bh. There is a very famous place in Wicklow that my family has been to called Glendalough. That is when I learned that -lough sounds like lock when you are in this neck of the woods so it is pronounced like 'glenda (the good witch) lock". Even some Irish born have stumbled this place's name : Kilmacanogue. Anyone what to take a guess? It's pronounced like "Kill Mechanic". How in the world they get that, I don't feckin know.
So it is no wonder that when I was telling my family about going to Inistioge this weekend, I was saying it wrong. I thought you would say it like In-ish-TOE-g.... But no, it is In-ish-teeeee-g. And it is coincidently where they filmed "Circle of Friends" with Minnie Driver and Chris O'Connell. So get your asses to Blockbuster and feel the luck of the Irish wash over you.

My cousin comes in tomorrow so, I dont know when I will post again. But Ill take lots of pictures while she is here and can regale you with storied of our travels after she is gone.

Left is Right and Right is Wrong

I took the first step towards driving in Ireland on Tuesday, I sat for the theory test. Now I can apply for my provisional license (learner's permit) and learn how to drive! I have visions of driver's ed class at Killian, having to sit out in the heat and I remember one day dropping a pebble down into Luis Bravo's ear and it actually went INTO his ear and then he couldn't get it out and I thought Holy Shit I just killed him. (no, it didn't kill him). Then I was thinking about driving to school in the two-seater 300ZX with Kristy Spade squished into the hatchback.

good times. good times.

These are some of the weird challenges about moving to a different country. They don't care that I have been driving for 15 years (spotless driving record I might add). It takes everything I have not to slip into 'indignant American mode' and roll my eyes and scoff at their rules that shouldn't apply to me. I think everyday of what Georgie said when she said I sounded like the little old Cuban patients that thought they always knew best because "they were a doctor in their country.." If someone from Timbuktu landed in the States and thought they should be given a special pass right to the front of the DMV line because they were the official jitney driving instructor "in their country", we would say, piss off. We, in Miami, have seen how some of the fugees drive so we know that shit ain't the same where they came from.

So, I studied diligently and only missed 2 questions out of the 40 (which is better than Manus' score...) A lot of it is common sense and a lot of it is the same as in the States. Safe driving is safe driving. You have the two second rule for keeping a safe distance, there are red lights and green lights and stop signs, but there are a few things that I've just never seen in the States. Like this sign:

or maybe this sign

or even this one

This one you kinda know what they are talking about, but still it's not a sign you would see in America. And I can't help but think of someone jumping into my car to give me a quick back rub whenever I see it. Yeah, that would calm me.

But can you imagine a sign like that in the States? People would drive by it and be like "What the fu--?" You'd hear honking, they'd give it the finger, Spit on the sign, "I got ya calming right here, muthafucka!" they'd shout while gesturing fanatically at their crotch. I think that section of town would have the most UNcalm traffic around. Come to think of it, that sign is kinda pissing me off. I don't need some sign telling me when I should be calm. I'll be calm when I want to be calm. muthafucka.

Some of the questions did catch me a bit unprepared like:

Q: Why should you drive a tractor more slowly on uneven roads?
A: To avoid severe bouncing. (of course... how silly)

Q: What should you be aware of when driving a tractor over a humpbacked bridge while towing a trailer?
A: Hell, I still don't know that. But, what are the odds of me driving a tractor over a humpbacked bridge while towing a trailer? I mean, without the trailer - that's a possibility, but with...nah.

Q: What danger will arise with the power takeoff of a tractor?
A: You might get jet-propelled into the next dimension. Isn't power takeoff on a tractor how Michael J Fox got back to the future in part I? No, the actual answer is that your clothing might get caught and torn off of your body..
Where is Brad Pitt? I need him to help me with my tractor...

I think this was my favorite one:

Q: If you come upon the scene of an accident, what should you give the victim to drink?

These feckin' Irish LOVE their drink. What should you give them? Wha? Are you kidding me? "Oooh, you're bleeding pretty bad there, Paddy Joe, want me to fix ya a whiskey? It'll straighten that thing right up."

Now I don't remember what the actual question was, but the correct answer was: "There may be livestock in the road"

My friends, I'm not in Kansas anymore... Of course, if I was, maybe that would be a valid answer to know.

As you can imagine, there are a few signs to forewarn of the possibility of animals blocking your path, and if you drive in Ireland, you definitely will get stuck behind a slow-moving cow or two. But don't worry, it only happens like once or twice a week...

If fairness, there were some "gimmes"... like

Q: How do you know when there is a problem with the condition of the vehicle's brakes?"
A: "The vehicle's stopping ability is affected."
Really? duh. I thought maybe they'd just seem dull and lifeless. Quiet and a little subdued. Wonder how many have gotten that one wrong. Yipes.

Or they asked what does this sign mean?

Thank god it was multiple choice.

The testing center was in Waterford, it's the neighboring county and originally I was going to drive myself there, but thankfully my father-in-law agreed to take me. If you were to ask someone directions from Kilkenny to Waterford, they would say, "well that's easy, just get on the "waterford road" and stay on it til you are there." Well, that does sound easy!. But the Waterford road is not a highway. You go in and out of small villages all along the way. And when you are driving, it's hard sometimes to see which way is the right way to stay on a certain road. Especially when the road posts are like this:

I have six months now before I can apply for a full license. I'd better get practicing. Look out Kilkenny!

Things Are Different Here (part III)

A while back I told you about Manus' uncle Ger coming from England for a weekend visit. Before he left, he gave Katie a few books for her birthday. One of them is a collection of stories that seem to have included many of the classics like Little Jack Horner, Yankee Doodle, Roses are Red...

Then there was this one.

And I thought to myself... Boy. Things are really different here.
And its not only that word that is totally socially acceptable here. It is customary, in fact perhaps even compulsory to incorporate the F-word into every statement. Form doesn't matter; it can be used as an exclamation, verb, noun or adjective. Apparently you get bonus points for multiple uses in a single sentence. Get Manus and his brother talking about the hurling team and you will hear some permutation of "That F-all so-in-so couldn't hit the F-en ball with 2 F-en hurls so he can just F-off for F's sake" every time.

Cunt.

Cunt is not a bad word here. I don't even like typing the word, though by Irish ordinances I am well within my legal right to do so. I believe it is still a slightly derogatory term, but for example, if you were addressed as "ya stupid 'C', ya" for a minor driving faux pas, you shouldn't be offended.

Now, oddly enough, the word "fanny" as in the children's story "My Sister Fanny" as read aloud by Billy Madison in 1995, is very vulgar. You would make old women blush if they heard you say it on the street.

Like I said, things are different here..... Or so I thought...

My cousin Elissa gave me this book before we left called "Games to Play with Baby".

I don't think "listening skills" are all baby will learn if I teach her how to ride...

We need a little inspiration from Whitney at a time like this. She knows how to teach our children and let them lead the way. Is she out of rehab yet?

P.S. I passed my driver theory test. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow.

I'm passing

You know when a transexual is doing such a good job at impersonating a woman they say she is "passing"? That' s how I feel about thinking that I am a local. Guess that makes me a successful transeurol or something. And thank God there is no big operation at the end to look forward to like my "passing' compatriots.

The other day I was walking into town with Katie and an elderly gentleman complete in woolen cardigan and kangol cap, stops me and with a thick Irish brogue, asks "How do I get to da parade?" - He thought I was a local! And what is even more amazing; I knew the answer. But I was so self-conscious when I spoke to direct him. Like I thought he would be pissed if he realized that I was american. Like I duped him or something. I dont know what it is but I feel that way with all the old men. Old men seem to be the only people who will say "good day" or "lovely weather, isn't it?" as you walk past. Im practicing my Irish accent, but til then I try to keep my answers real short so they wont hear my accent. If they just say good day, I'll just tip my head forward in a slight nod and smile that thousand watt smile of mine. But if they comment about the weather (which most do as the Irish are obsessed with the weather) I've learned a quick "Tis" or "luv-lee" will suffice.

When I walk into town I automatically look right now before crossing the street. Sure, I'll be killed the second I step off the curb the next time I'm in the states, but I know which direction the traffic is coming from here!

Over the last couple of days I've seen 3 different women that I know from Katie's playgroup. Not that I know them well enough to know their names, but enough for a nod and smile or a "luv-lee day". Manus says I know more people in this town now than he does. And it might be true. I seem to go to the same cashier in SuperValu every time. Renata Plonka. (If she wants to pass, she'd better do something about that name. Maybe O'Plonka....Did I mention there are like a gazillion eastern europeans living here in Kilkenny? SuperValu has a dedicated 'Polski Schelpi" section. I find myself walking around saying, "ugh! these damn foreigners!" (please don't let the irony pass you by on that one.)

Then, the other day, this big group of American tourists were standing around and blocking the footpath (even using the lingo with ease) and when they saw me coming they said, "Oh, excuse us" and moved out of the way. So you KNOW they thought I was Irish. I mean, if they thought I was just another american, they would have said "screw you" and kept standing there.

And finally, as I was browsing the aisles of Euro 2 the other day (otherwise known as the $3 store) I saw something to buy and said, "wait! I know where I can get this cheaper" And I did too.

I'm just your average comparison shopping-right hand side looking-direction giving orange/white/and green fool! I hope you'll be able to understand what I'm saying the next time we talk...you know, the accent might be too thick ('tick' as they say here)

Now, tell me this isn't the cutest little Irish kid you've ever seen:

Happy Memorial Day

You don't expect me to blog on one of our nation's most important holidays, do you? A day for solemn reflection. A day for remembering and showing our appreciation for all the memorials and stuff.

Puleeze, I am an American still, after all.

I'll see you heathens tomorrow.

Oh, and in case I forget to mention it later, don't look for a blog entry next Monday as it is a very important Bank Holiday in Ireland. A day for... (you know the rest)

I mean, I am living in Ireland after all...

Speechless

I spoke to one of the assessment officers today from the Irish Nursing Board and he explained to me the problems they are having with my credentials to register me to work in Ireland.

As I understand it, the EU and Ireland specifically do not have an exam like the US's Nursing Boards which, upon passing you are licensed to work and recognized as "meeting the minimum standard to provide safe care". Here, you pass your school classes, you are a nurse. So, my registering with their country is completely based on my education.

And apparently, not even so much on how well I did in school, but how well my school did me. When they asked the almightly MDCC how many hours of theoretical study I received in nursing the reply was 368 and hours of clinical practice is 736. Hell.. that sounds fantastic, right?

An Bord Altranais (Irish Nursing Board), as apparently dictated by somewhere within the EU, requires minimums of 1533 and 2300 in theory and clinical practice.

So barring some miracle of number crunching as I work to gather my continuing education credits, talking to Baptist about documenting my hours as a preceptee and MAC training courses, I'm not going to be a nurse in Ireland.

HOW FUCKING CRAZY IS THAT?

I mean, ask anyone in the nursing education system of the US and they will tell you that nursing school is just to lay the foundation for your learning and just to give you enough knowledge so you don't KILL someone on your first day of work.

I have an unblemished work record of 5 years. I haven't even killed one person! That should count for something.

To hear this man today speak, and I must say he was very nice and said he was doing what he could, but it seems as though cases will not be taken into consideration individually, either you have the numbers or not.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

I guess I'm not exactly speechless on the subject. Just most thoughts I have on it are filled with profanity.

So, thats it in a nutshell. I am currently taking suggestions for alternate careers. Which, in this country (oh, you've done it now - don't get me started on the work situation here...) is going to be extremely limited as you take a series of tests at the end of 'high school' which determines what you will study in university which determines what you will do for the rest of your life. There is no such thing as changing your mind. I couldn't even go and apply to nursing school here.

So, think of all the best minimum wage jobs you've had in your life and recommend one for me. - No, don't say secretary or "administrative assistant" (though I've already been a few of those) because they require formal education too which is not available to me.

The Upside of IREland

There was just a little cinematic reference for you in the title, a little play on words, if you will. 20 bucks to whoever gets it first. (hint: Kevin Costner)

See, I can offer $20 bucks to you because I'm here in Ireland and $20 is only like 15 euro so, HA! bargain city... oh, wait..

But this post is about the good things in Ireland. It has come to my attention that I sometimes hit a sour note when singing the praise of differences between here and home. ex-home. Land of the pilgrim's pride. From every mountainside....

For starters, I got on the scale this morning and I only weigh 9.6 stone. That's a true measurement and "although no longer an official unit of measure, the stone remains widely used within the British Isles as a means of expressing human body weight. ... " (thanks, Wiki).
So, okay 9.6 stone (is the 0.6 referred to as pebbles you may ask, and officially I don't know - but in my mind it does..)

9.6 stone = 61.5 kg

And the rest is obvious. C'mon 5T..don't disappoint me now, kg-lb conversion. I'm lobbing an easy one at you..

61.5 kg = 134.6 lbs!

Sounds better at 9.6 stone, right? I know. And I think it is quite bold of me to announce my weight on the internet too, but this is the thinnest I've been in a while. Definitely since Katie. I just don't understand why my friggin jeans are still so damn tight.
Granted, the weight loss could stem from all the quality time I've spent admiring the plumbing fixtures over the last week, but it could also come from all the walking Katie and I have done.

Segway to good thing #2. Irish Weather! No. really. believe it or not, the last few weeks, really since we got here have been beautiful. Warmish, sunny, birds-singing kind of pleasant. So we get out and enjoy it as much as we can. Its so much like Miami winter! (disclaimer - today is shit. Im sure its just a fluke.) The other day I was cooking something in the oven and it warmed up the kitchen so I just opened the french door toward the backyard and let the cool breeze come in. I was sitting on the floor taking silly pictures of Kate and thinking, This is the life!

Good thing #3. Ireland and all of Europe really are very green. They've been green longer than green was the color to be. Recycling is a given. In fact, you pay for your trash can (rubbish bin) and recycle bin here (which I guess through taxes its true in the states too) but, you choose the size you want and they will only take what fits in. And pick up is only once every OTHER week. So, you learn to Reduce unless you like the smell of stinky diapers. Then in the stores, everyone uses the "green bags". Its not a hippy, granola thing, its just what you do. If you need a plastic bag, you have to pay for it. So there is your Reuse. But, there's more:

This is our "flush button". A slightly more sanitary take on the old favorite, "if it's yellow let it mellow, if it's brown flush it down", you can press just the round button quick rinse or both for when you really mean business (or more accurately, have finished your business)
And this is our electric emersion.

This enables us to take a hot shower by only heating the water we are going to use, not fill a whole hot water tank. And does it work? You betcha. If Paris Hilton were showering in our house, she would say, "That's hot!".
And finally, this is our outlet.

You have to switch on the power with the button so you aren't sending electricity all over where it isn't needed.
And another thing and who knows if it's more energy efficient, its just plain weird in a cool way is our clothes dryer (though I havent been using it much as the weather has been so fine) sucks OUT the water in our clothes. For real, I have to empty out a tank of collected water after each load. freaking brilliant.
I think that is enough "good things" for today. I don't want all of you to get super jealous and start to hate me. Or worse, threaten to come over and stay for a while. I already have my cousin coming to stay with us and help herself to all the irish goodies. (I'm just kidding Lar, I am SOOO looking forward to your visit. I can't wait to have you here!) And I'm tired of going around the house taking pictures of strange things. I'm starting to think of myself as a weirdo. (no comments from the peanut gallery please)

I think now I'll just sit back and relax. It's amazing how much free time I have now that I've got someone to do my chores...

Things Are Different Here (part I)

The Kitchen Edition

As I said yesterday, I had to make a cake from scratch. And this is because things are different here. I went to a few different grocery chains and found only one single cake mix box and that was for a chocolate cake. So I went online and looked for a yellow cake recipe. My actual goal was to make the bacardi rum cake, so I had to get that recipe from the net as well. Shopping list in hand, Katie and I made our way into town.

Now we all know europeans use the metric system. But, though it may seem obvious now, that means they dont use cups or half cup measurements. They use grams. They WEIGH their flour, sugar, powders etc. WHAT?! So, how many grams are in a cup? Well, it doesnt matter cause I dont have a scale.

The recipe calls for instant pudding. In Ireland, pudding is a mixture of ground pork and oatmeal and in the case of black pudding, congealed blood. The closest thing to vanilla pudding is custard. Bought a tin of custard powder (non-instant) and hoped for the best.

Had to go to a specialty shop for measuring spoons (tablespoon, teaspoon) and got a 4 spoon set for $12.00 (look at your own set and you will note that you get 8 spoons and you probably got it at the dollar store.

Not even the specialty shop knew what a bundt pan was.

Home again and thank god for Manus' cousin Orla, I had a hand mixer and some american measuring cups so we are ready to rock.

The Bacardi recipe calls for 4 eggs. But that is to mix with the prepackaged cake mix. So I refer to my cake recipe to see that I am to mix 3 eggs. So, is this a 7 egg cake? So I had to look up the directions on the back of a box of duncan hines to find out what is typically added to a mix to then compare it to my 'scratch' recipe and then compare it to my rum cake recipe. In the end I justified my portions of milk, water, oil, rum, eggs the most scientific way I knew how - which measuring spoon hadn't yet been used.

The recipe calls for one box of instant pudding. Do you know how much one box is? I do now. It is 3.5 ounces. Do you know how many cups that is? me neither. So, a 1/2 a cup it is. Now, the instructions on the side of the custard tin call for 1 TBSP of sugar to be added for every 2 of custard powder. Does that mean I should add extra sugar to my batter? And if so, how much? How many 2 TBSP are in 3.5 oz?

At least the batter looked like batter. Now its time to cook. We all know about the celsius conspiracy over here, but I am down with that. (my cell, er, Mobile phone has a conversion calculator). But, do I cook it for 40 min at 350 like my scratch recipe says, or an hour at 325 like the rum recipe says, or for 50 minutes at 175c like my oven users manual says?

In the end, the cake is edible and I'll just double the amount of rum that goes in the glaze and no one will care WHAT it tastes like.

And all that for just one cake! And remember the other day I was looking high and low for baking soda? Well, I found it. Its called bread soda here and comes in a white bag, not orange box and neither damn recipe even called for it!

But that is the thing, they have some of the same stuff over here, they just call it a different name.

Example, play Match the Vegetables with their Irish names:

American Names - Irish Names
Snow Peas - Mangetout
Zucchini - Courgette
Eggplant - Aubergene

And we in the states know that our food, especially our fruits and vegetables, come from other countries, but we OWN dem bitches, so we plop our american brand labels on everything. Well, Ireland is an island and if they want something that can't be made here, they import too. Only it's the other country's product, thus brand, thus language (not just the rape and pillage of their crop)

This our juice selection:

And when we are all done and ready to wash up, do we use dish soap? No, we use:

And now, for Katie. Thankfully, she is the same in any language.

A Whole New World

I think I'm going to try this blogging thing out... I know we have the other website, but only Manus holds the secrets to posting on that one and he is working like mad...

This will allow me also to share photos of the house and katie and all things great and small in Kilkenny.

Of course, now the pressure is on.... Can't blame Manus for not having things up to date.

I will however forewarn anyone who will want to get on me for not blogging in a timely manner; I am working on a 1986 Atari 1800 computer and sometimes the buttons don't work right. Okay, so it's really Manus' old Dell laptop - but still, some of these keys are possessed.. And second excuse (to be used in future whenever applicable) is that Katie LOVEs pressing the keys on the keyboard and therefore my online time will be limited to naptime and nana time.

Is there a term for excuses being idenitified even before the transgression has occured? If not, there should be. Can we make up a SNIGLET?

Is a sniglet really something that should be in the dictionary, but isnt?

If not, is there a word for a word that should be a word, but isnt?

If a word isnt found in the dictionary, is it still a word?

If a tree falls...