Up The North

This past weekend we went up to Northern Ireland. Or if you want to sound like a real Irishman you would say, we went "up da north". And literally, the signs will say "THE NORTH"

Ireland should win a prize for their seamless incorporation of colloquialism into their gubernatorial infrastructure. Maybe their prize could be a compass since they think that north, west and south are all to the left, er, RIGHT. p.s. for those of you who don't know, the cool kids are calling the right the left these days.. just fyi.

Real quick background is Ireland used to be under British rule and for many, many, many years this was a source of contention. One day almost 100 years ago, Ireland and England agreed to a compromise. England would relinquish control over 26 of the 32 counties. This became the Republic of Ireland and this is where we live. The 6 remaining counties are still a part of the United Kingdom, under British rule and are known collectively as "Northern Ireland". Northern Ireland and the Republic are two distinct and separate countries, with different laws, a different government and different currency. Not everyone in Northern Ireland was happy to still be governed by England and hence you had "the troubles". The IRA, famed for their use of bombings and violence, represented some of those who believed that all of Ireland should be free. In the last years, the IRA has disbanded and those who still want to fight for independence agreed to terrorize via politics instead of guns and bombs through the Anti-British political party of Sinn Fein.

We have a friend in Randalstown, outside of Belfast and we stayed with him. I like to go up there from time to time because our friend Jimmy makes me look like little Susie Homemaker. He makes me look downright domestic. Don't worry, he wont read this. He lost his computer in the newspaper, candy wrapper and beer can avalanche of '06.

On Monday we met up with our friend Jim and drove along the Antrim coast (the north part of the north). This has to be the most beautiful part of all of Ireland.

This was our second time in this area and being the exciting bastards that we are, we stopped at the same three sites as the last time we were here. I can say with authority that ruins don't change much from year to year. First on our tour was Dunluce Castle. The walls and windows seen here are from the 16th century but some of what still stands has been dated to as far back at the 14th century. This was the home of the MacDonnells, made earls by James I.

This castle was built right on the edge of a cliff. So close that one night during a dinner party, the kitchen and staff quarters fell off into the ocean.

All that remains of the kitchen wall. Apparently the lady of the house was a royal P.I.A. and she was never happy living there cause she didn't like the sound of the ocean so having half her house staff plunge to their deaths was a good way to convince her husband it was time to move inland.

Random views of the remains and views of the cliffs to either side.



Forgive the horrific picture layouts.

Our next stop was the Giant's Causeway. One of the best known attractions in N.Ireland, the legendary giant Finn McCool built the causeway in order to reach Scotland to fight his enemy giant, Benandonner.

The Giant's Causeway has to be the #1 most anti-climactic, disappointing visions ever to have been laid upon by human eyes. You hear the tale of these stones that the ancients just knew could never have been created by nature thus sparked stories of giants and legendary battles that filled in the spots that practical knowledge could not explain.... You envision a towering expanse of basaltic rock stretching out across the ocean, promising to meet its counterpart on the far shores of wee Scotland.... You dream of the bedtime stories you will tell your children and see the spark of admiration in their eye when you tell them that you, their parent, stood on the very rocks... Then you ascend the crest of the hill that lies between you and greatness and see this...

I circled "the causeway" so you wouldn't miss it. One should never have to circle greatness.

As it turns out, the causeway's magic can only be appreciated close-up. just like the mona lisa. and Tom Thumb.

You can see why the ancient people couldn't believe that this was simply a natural occurrence. The stones are actually basalt lava stones from a volcanic eruption that occurred in Pangaea. There is a corresponding outcropping of these rocks in Scotland on the coast of the island Staffa at a place called Fingal's Cave. The pointus terminalis of the causeway, if you'll allow me to get my latin on.

Now is the part of the program I like to call, "Things you'd have missed if I didn't point them out"

SCOTLAND

A SEAL SWIMMING NEAR THE COAST

THE ONLY RAY OF SUNSHINE WE SAW ALL DAY

WHERE THE LEPRECHAUNS KEEP THE POT OF GOLD

On our drive back down to Randalstown, we saw the most amazing rainbow. I shrieked like a lunatic and made Manus pull off to the side of the road so I could take some pictures. Even with crossing to the far side of the street, climbing the stairs and entering some stranger's back bedroom, I still couldn't capture the whole thing in one shot. Why did we have to say goodbye to panoramic cameras?

You can see it is actually a double rainbow and you could see both ends. Kristy, I was thinking of you and your mom and dad the whole time. (love ya! - see you soon!!)

Visiting the nuns; out of habit

"Get thee to a nunnery!"

Well, I did it. I spent a whole Friday evening in a convent and not one bolt of lightening struck the building. I know what you are thinking, "that Malinda is really living life on the edge over there in Ireland... wild Friday nights with the nuns." Yes, move over Britney, we are spinning way out of control here.

Manus' mother is great friends with Sister Teresa Landy, a nun in Callan (town in Kilkenny) and she had us out for a fabulous four-course dinner. Not only is Sr. Teresa a nun, she is also quite a gourmand*. (I mean that in the good way).


I don't know if it's because I am not Catholic or maybe they do things differently here in Ireland, but there are a lot of things about nuns that I didn't know...

• Did you know that nuns don't have to wear the habits if they don't want to?


• Did you know that nuns drink? And not just holy water. I'm not naming names, but I have met some nuns here that could drink me under the table.


• Did you know that nuns go to college?


• Did you know they can't have a car 'cause of their vow of poverty?


• Did you know that in Ireland you don't even say grace before a meal? - not even in God's house.

I know it sounds sacrilegious, but a convent is so much like a sorority house. The "AlphaOmega House", if you will. Can you imagine living in a house full of women? I don't care if you are on direct speaking terms with God, he cant help you to like everyone... there has to be some passive aggressive back stabbing going on in there.

Can you imagine if they all, eh, 'cycle' together? You don't want to piss off a PMSing nun. Talk about eternal damnation! Are there cliques in the convent? Are there the cool nuns and the nuns no one wants to hang out with? While we were there I saw a nun eating all by herself. Is that because she doesn't have any friends? If someone asks her how many friends she has, will she answer "Nun." ? (!!!!!)

In the evening sometimes Sr. Teresa will invite some of the gals into her room to watch tv. Do they get cable? Is it a rule that they avert their eyes when there is a sex scene? If they peek, god will surely know. Do they discuss who should be voted off Big Brother or who should win American Idol?

There is so much that I don't know, but from what I do know of what Sr. Teresa does each day, I think if I could be a nun as a day job, it would be great. She went to college to learn cookery and home economics, so that is why she cooks like a 5 star chef. She teaches home-ec to the girls at the school, is a career counsellor, visits the elderly at the old folks home (will even take some of their clothes to mend a tear or darn a sock for them), does charity work and Sr. Teresa is an international tour guide. She goes on about 5-6 trips a year all over the world. My MIL goes on one each summer. Off hand, I wouldn't think a trip with a bunch of nuns would be all that much fun, but these are not your run-of-the-mill, Sound of Music nuns. She has the perfect job. Aside of course from the chastity, poverty and obedience things...

Mary's husband Tom says that nuns, on average, live longer than married women. He thinks its because they don;t have the stress of children. Silly man. You know as well as I its because they don't have the stress of HUSBANDS.

Yesterday the sun was shining. I had forgotten what it looked like. So to celebrate we went to the park for a picnic brunch. As luck would have it it was the first day of Heritage Week and there was a day of activities planned.
With over 1000 events taking place around the country during Heritage Week, individuals and families across Ireland have the opportunity to get outdoors and experience their local heritage.
We heard the Kilkenny pipe band and marching band. There was a medieval jester and military display, basket making, stone carving, paper working and farmer's market. (could you tell I was reading off the brochure?)
Again we find ourselves watching the backs of the musicians. I am sensing a trend. (see Hoban monument post)
Two men fighting for my affections. Not actually a part of the festival.

Oh! You slay me!!!"

*Usage Note: A gourmet is a person with discriminating taste in food and wine, as is a gourmand. Because gourmand can also mean "one who enjoys food in great quantities" or even "a gluttonous eater," care should be taken to make clear its intended sense. An epicure is much the same as a gourmet, but the word may sometimes carry overtones of excessive refinement. This use of epicure is a misrepresentation of Epicurean philosophy, which, while it professed that pleasure was the highest good, was hardly given to excessive concern with food and drink.

Wet 'n Wild Wicklow Weekend

As you know, I went up to Wicklow last week to be looked after by Brian and Bronwyn while Manus was away. It was very tudor-esque... The familial obligation of a man to take in his brother's widowed wife. (work widow, that is) I was very Catherine of Aragon. But I also went to Rathdrum because Saturday night was the first annual Rose of Avondale and if you don't know what that is, worry not! as it is just like the Rose of Tralee.


That is exactly how it was explained to me. I said, uh...thanks. that clears that up.

And so because inquiring minds want to know, you can go to the official Rose of Tralee website to learn more.



The pageant was on Saturday night and it was intended that there would be festivities in the town square during the day. They planned decorations, live music and face painting for the kids. And the face painting was to be done by me! (So of course, in my mind I saw the weekend as "Come to the Greatest Face Painting Exhibition ever seen!!! And oh yeah, later see some girls walk across the stage in pretty dresses") But alas, it was not to be. The high-flying, death-defying water-based and non-comedogenic facial feat of artistic genius was rained out. RAINED out. Grey skies, strong winds and just persistent cold rain virtually drowned all of eastern Ireland. There was major flooding in and around Dublin leading to closed highways and now concern over contaminated drinking water. But, c'mon flooding? Shouldn't Ireland of all places be prepared for precipitation in abundant amounts? That's like the Egyptians saying, Sunscreen?! What would we need sunscreen for? Or the Pompeians declining natural disaster coverage on their home insurance policy. Of course, hurricane season comes every year to Florida but yet there are still millions of people scrambling for water and batteries the night before a storm (debbie...)



So anyway, day plans were changed but the rain couldn't dampen the spirits of the Rose hopefuls and at eight p.m. sharp we watched as they strut their stuff in the Avondale Indoor Sports Complex. Twenty local girls competed for the title and the 1000 euro in prize money. I don't think Miss Universe should be running scared, but perhaps Miss South Carolina should be looking over her shoulder. When asked what each would do if they won either the prize money or the lottery, most said, "shopping spree!!" This was consistent with the most popular hobby, "shopping" though shopping held only a small lead over the number two hobby, "walking". Yes, they were a lively bunch. I found it no surprise that none of them said they made a hobby of singing, though unfortunately nearly 10 of the 20 chose to sing for the talent portion of the show. Now, let's be fair...."talent" may be too strong a word.

There were a few very nice voices out there and two gals did traditional Irish dancing which I could find no fault in. Maybe for next year they will learn the upper body part... One girl did card tricks (you knew that would be my favorite talent) and some recited poetry. But most of those didn't even memorize the poems. We'll say "reading out loud" was apparently their talent and good for them! Really though, they all deserve my admiration because they all got up there and did it! You wont find me in next year's or any other year's Rose of Avondale. I just wouldn't have the nerve. That, and the small fact that no one has asked me to enter...sniff.



Each of the girls was sponsored by local businesses and thanks wholly to Mr. Brian Walsh, Esq., Esc., & Etc., of the Rathdrum offices, Brenock Technology was the proud sponsor of Rose Lianne. Despite cheering as loud as we could and the 20 euro notes I tried to slip to the judges, Lianne was not the big winner, but in our eyes....

She is #1

All the girls got beautiful silver plates engraved with their names to forever commemorate their involvement in the inaugural event. The money raised by the pageant will go to the Rathdrum "Tidy Towns" fund to help beautify the area. The TT committee members, my SIL, Bronwyn, specifically poured their hearts and souls into seeing that this night went along perfectly and they did it. It was a great night and Im looking forward to next year's.

There were even some celebrity sightings...
The GAA great, Mick O'Dwyer

American Idol's own David Archuleta

Even Alfred E. Newman!! (hello??!...MAD magazine)

This blog post was made possible through a generous endowment by our sponsor...

Greetings from Wicklow

First off, my apologies to anyone who has a hard time understanding this post as I am writing it from Rathdrum, Co. Wicklow and the accent is just a little bit more difficult here.

I am staying with Brian and Bronwyn as Manus left today for Miami. I know, I can't believe I didn't demand to go along... Certainly not my style. I did however, have a mini-tantrum - laid myself down on the floor, pounded my fists and kicked my feet shouting "It's not fair... I want to go! You never loved me... Katie's not your kid!!"

Manus is so sweet...while we were driving to Dublin airport he said, "I love being married to you." And I laughed out loud, waiting for the punchline. He was offended and I was flabbergasted. I guess I will drive back to pick him up on Sunday.

I suppose you aren't supposed to blog about the fact that you aren't at home in the event that there are burglars reading this site and 'casing me joint'. There really should be a warning note on the Blogger site about that. This new-fangled technology! Well, for all you burglars out there, the doors are locked, the alarm is on, the crossbow is rigged up to the door knob and the arrow is aiming for the heart. If you still insist on breaking in, be a dear and unload the dishwasher and put the clothes in the dryer before you go.

So just a few quick pics to post for your viewing pleasure... We had "the Americans" over for a few days. Our friends from Miami, the King family, took a European cruise and finished it with a few days in Ireland. We met them in Dublin on Sunday and they got to see the greatest game on earth at Croke Park.

What is Hurling?

Nope, not this (this time...)

After watching a bit of this...

We did a lot of this...

And even more of this...

here at Jacob's Well in Rathdrum.



It has been brought to my attention that I should have photos of Glendalough in the blog as it is here the ruins of one of the most famous monastic cities in all of Ireland lie.

It has oft been written about throughout history and is here that St. Kevin made his home around 500 A.D.

We brought 'the americans' here on Monday morning. As you can see it was a 'soft' day, as the Irish call it. (Soft is loosely translated to "so help me, if we have another flipping rainy day, I think I will lose my mind".)

Manus took his 'tour group' on a walk back around the two lakes that give Glendalough it's name.

Malinda waited in the car to avoid the softness.

Hot Fun in the Summertime

As you should know by now, a typical Irish day looks something like this:

Actual elapsed time, 0.8 seconds.

Well, luckily for us, yesterday saw a change.

And at the same time as the Irish sun was bursting forth from the cloud's familiar hold, another Irish son was bursting forth from a womb's familial hold. Ah, Sweet poetry...

Mary and Tom Marry had another boy! Conor Brendan Marry was born at 3:45pm on August 7th and weighed in at 8 lbs even.
While I've yet to procure any actual photos of the young lad, just for your reference, I'm pretty sure he looked just like this:
I do have pictures of another babe from yesterday...

Tell me the shorts aren't fantastic! And it was great to have a warm and sunny day in which to wear them. Katie has really turned a corner in her walking attempts. While she still walks half like Frankenstein and half like someone with a stick up their butt, she walks everywhere. Only if we are in a serious hurry does she get down to crawl. Or if she sees a puddle.

Speaking of puddles, Katie got her first pair of wellies today.

And speaking of turning a corner... if you turn the corner from Manus' parent's house out in Cuffesgrange, you will find yourself at the very birthplace of James Hoban! Yes, it's true!! Shocking and hard to believe, isn't it??!! Now, I wouldn't want to insult anybody as I know you all know who J. Hoban is, but since I decided to make this an educational site, I will provide links so you can learn more about the Irishman who became an architect and designed the White House (where the President of the United States lives.) That's right, the one and only. And just in case you think you will forget his name, you can use a little mnemonic that I find helpful; Just think of the regulatory action that could put yo Momma out of work.

Well, architecture students from Wash. D.C.'s Catholic University designed and erected (tee,hee) a monument to the great man (some may remember the original monument in the ditch on the side of the road that looked more like a misplaced headstone) and last night was the unveiling.

It is a beautiful monument and all the local papers say it is sure to put Cuffesgrange, Co. Kilkenny on the map. Which is good, because I looked, and it isn't on any of them at the moment.

We were blessed to have Father Funky Dee and the Holy Rollers there to get down and get freaky.

I just still don't understand why they had their backs to the crowd...

My fellow countrymen.... (Take me with you!!!!)

Here is an article about the events from the Kilkenny newspaper: http://www.kilkennypeople.ie/news/James-Hoban-memorial-now-set.4362987.jp

It is almost exactly a month 'til we are in the good ole U. S. of A again and celebrating the life of a man made famous in America did little to lessen my homesickness. And neither did this:

I feel like I'm in the middle of one of those old coffee commercials, "We've secretly switched the restaurant's fresh brewed coffee with Folger's crystals... let's see if they notice the difference." Well, I DID notice the difference, albeit not til AFTER I got home from the grocery. Canadian maple syrup and banana nut? Helllllloooo? Where is Cinnamon and my reason-for-buying, Peanut Butter? I'm sorry, you just can't trust a country that doesn't eat peanut butter.

And I think the weeds are mocking me.