WHY NOT SMILE

I noticed when I posted my most recent blog that it was my 99th contribution. That would make this effort #100. Thought briefly about baking a cake and throwing a little party but decided a more appropriate celebration would be in order. So, I've spent the last couple of days re-reading some of what I've written over the past 8 or so months.

Well. Interesting?

"Interesting" is my all time favorite word. It can be used in so many situations and can encompass endless feelings or meanings. Sometimes I'll follow-up my use of the word with a clarification. For example: That's very interesting. And by interesting I, of course, mean incredibly disturbing. But, more likely than not I'll just let the word lie. Interpretation left up to the recipient. This admission probably provides some kind of deep insight into my soul for those inclined to look.

This is what I've learned: I am obsessed with my coffee maker. I frequently search for the meaning of life in the names of OPI nail colors. Mansfield made me mad. I love my family and friends. I am self-indulgent. I have been recently possessed by M. Stipe as evidenced by my REM-influenced blog titles this month. Well, ok. Just kidding. That was intentional. I'm growing up. I'm getting old. And I think I may be just a little masochistic. Otherwise, why in the hell would I have ever shared the whole "biscuit head" thing?

Interesting.

COUNTRY FEEDBACK

A belated pictoral survey of my recent trip to Ireland. Above: me and Gigi under the sweet influence of Guinness:)

Day 1: the Cliffs of Moher in Co Claire

Day 2: Torc Waterfall in Killarney National Park, Co Kerry

Day3: Healy Pass on the Beara Peninsula (Kerry/Cork)



Day4: carver at Waterford Crystal Factory in Co Waterford

Day 5: early morning in Co Wicklow

MAN ON THE MOON

Yet another quietly spent morning, the kind of peace I only previously was able to claim for myself on a stolen weekend. But it's Friday and just another day in the long chain I've been blessed with since I quit my job. I know that work is in my near future but am content for now to enjoy this freedom. Trying to see, and take, pleasure in the small things. A cup of coffee that I'm allowed to linger over. The opportunity to re-read a favorite book. Engaging in what the charming people of Ireland refer to as a "lie-in." Days spent in my flannel pjs doing all of the above!

Wednesday night I tried without large success to see the lunar eclipse. I did get to see a portion of it early on during the cycle. But then the cloudy skies over the DFW area thwarted additional efforts and I finished the evening disappointed. It was the kind of February evening in Texas that teased you into thinking spring had arrived. Perfect if not for those stupid, stupid clouds! I spoke with my parents while sky-gazing and discovered that they had a clear view of the event in MO. Not a cloud in sight. Of course, their compromise was watching the eclipse in below freezing weather:)

I'm sure there is a very reasonable and scientific reason for this paradox. Something about warm air currents from the gulf or a similar weather-related phenomenon that would do nothing to alleviate my disappointment in our cloud-covered fate. But, I couldn't help but to laugh a little at the pictures in my head. Me, in jeans and t-shirt sitting unsatisfied under the Texas sky. And my parents with coats and hats on over their pajamas, wondering if the red disc seen from our front porch in Missouri was worth the risk of frostbite. Further evidence to me that we are so not in charge . . . :)

AT MY MOST BEAUTIFUL

Day 5 - family connections

My great great grandfather (William) was born in County Wicklow in 1847 to John and Sarah Burns. I know very little more than that. We don't know exactly where in the county the Burns' lived. And Grandpa William didn't even grow up in Ireland - he and his family emigrated to Nova Scotia when he was a toddler. 10 years after that they moved to Michigan (where William was classmates with a boy named Thomas Edison!) before settling in Missouri. Since then, the great majority of my family's history occured within a small area in the Show Me state. So, why I would feel any real connection to Wicklow is beyond me. But, a connection is without a doubt what I felt.

We woke on our last full day in Ireland in a B&B near Glendalough, Co Wicklow. We got an early start so as to maximize our time after feasting on a breakfast that showcased some truly spectacular eggs. Seriously, those eggs were hands down my favorite culinary experience in Ireland:) The air was cold and frost covered the ground everywhere you looked. The everpresent Irish morning fog had yet to clear and I just didn't care. It was still breathtakingly beautiful.

The Wicklow Mountains are certainly small by most standards. The highest range - Lugnaquilla - is only a little over 3000 feet. But it's rumored that on a clear day you can gaze across the Irish Sea from the mountain's peaks and see Snowdonia in Wales. A clear day is rare in Ireland and it wasn't available to us during our exploration:) Regardless, the sights we did see were worth the trip. Even when we drove into one of many valleys the view was incredible. Green hills despite the winter season, picture perfect farms and villages. Postcard images that inexplicably filled me with a proud warmth that proved very successful at chasing away the cold.

I suppose you can equate an Irish county to a US state. Not size-equivalent by any means but a similar division. So although I don't have many specifics about where my Irish family is from, Co Wicklow felt a little like home. Just like the happy feeling I get these days over anything Missouri, I left Ireland flaunting a little Wicklow county pride:)

ELECTROLITE

Day 4 - Crystal Clear

I've seen glass blowing exhibitions before. I'm always impressed with the patience and steady hands the artists' possess. I've even thought once or twice about taking a class and making myself a super simple paper weight of some kind. So, although it was my idea to visit the Waterford Crystal Factory in Co Waterford, I wasn't really expecting to see something new. I thought, perhaps, just something on a larger and grander scale. I was wrong.

Oh, it was larger and grander to be sure. But, it was also so much more.

I'm not sure I've ever truly understood what a craftsman is. But I think I saw them this day in Ireland. There was concentration. There was sweat. There was repetition. And there was this amazing and palpable sense of teamwork. We saw glassblowers. We watched the carvers. It was all deliberate and methodical. There wasn't a feeling of artistry here at all. I honestly think these men would have been embarrassed if you tried to label them artisits. They were just making the product they had been trained to create, a group of men who had perfected their craft.

And then we entered the section of the factory dedicated to engravery and sculpting. And here, here we found the artists and their art. The incredible things these people (because here, finally, we found a female!) could do with glass! Mostly they worked on commissioned trophies and the like. But they also had a small exhibit of current or recently completed projects. There was a moving 9/11 tribute that made me want to cry right there in the middle of our tour.

When we were finished with the factory and left to peruse the gift shop, I was able to look on products available for sale with a new level of appreciation. Suddenly it seemed to me that the prices I had previously considered ridiculously high were now almost guilty of gross underestimation. I had originally thought to buy a present for myself to remind me of this trip to Ireland. Then I overheard this American family from the East coast somewhere talking about all the Waterford they were shipping home. Something about the conversation reminded me of a shopping expedition to an outlet mall back in the states. Prices were apparently less there in Waterford City than they would have been elsewhere.

I didn't want to cheapen what I'd seen, what I'd learned. And so I came home without any actual crystal but with plenty to remind me of Ireland and its people.

LOSING MY RELIGION

Day 3 - a different way

Gigi and I had spoken briefly a few days prior to this Sunday morning about attending a local mass. We both found the idea appealing, although likely for different reasons. Then we just didn't do anything about it. We went about our trip without granting any kind of special importance to the fact that Sunday was approaching. It was just another day of our vacation, a day to be enjoyed with yet more exploration and excitement. And that's ok. That's really how we experienced the whole of Ireland - one day at a time, no real plans. We just went about everthing in a different way.

It had been our original idea to complete the Ring of Kerry. It's almost always touted as a "must see" when visiting Ireland. However, our hostess from Shaminir recommended touring the Beara peninsula that lies along side the Ring as an alternative. Again, just a different way.

We drove along the peninsula and, as recommended, took the Healy Pass across to the Co Cork side. Uh, wow? I just don't know how to really portray with words the beauty that we encountered. It was cold and oh so very quiet. It was as if we were the only people aware of the road we traveled. We turned up the heater in the car and then rolled down our windows so we could hear the birds singing us a song. Any other kind of music seemed intrusive so we kept the radio off and just enjoyed. We hardly even spoke to each other and those of you that know Gigi also know exactly how hard this was for her! As we hit the highest point of the pass and looked down with wonder at the images below, I realized that we'd made it to church after all. In a different way.

After descending into, and then through, Cork we headed into Co Tipperary. The inspiration for our own local Irish pub! We settled for the night in Cashel, home of the Rock of Cashel. The Rock is a huge protrusion of limestone in the middle of the farmlands of Tipperary. A castle of sorts was built upon it and soars over the modern day town. One of my many favorite things about Ireland is this mix of new and old. It should be obvious and wrong but instead is a somehow seemless blend of the two. We seem almost fanatical here in the US about keeping our past separate from our present. It's as though we feel that our heritage may be tainted by the new and modern. I don't think the Irish people ever really see their history as past, it's so much a part of their daily lives. A different country, a different way.

We disappointingly couldn't find a pub comparable to our home "Cheers" but settled on a restaurant a few blocks from our B&B. I had a sudden intense craving for a cheeseburger and went with the impulse when ordering dinner. The result wasn't exactly what I was hoping for. The closest thing I can equate it to is a really funky meatloaf sandwich that someone thoughtfully slapped a piece of cheese onto. And, don't even get me started on the ketchup situation! Most definitely a different way . . . :)

TURN YOU INSIDE OUT

Day 2 - Tea and Poetry

If I was forced to choose a favorite day from our trip, it would be this day. And if I was forced, then I would take the liberty of redefining that "day" to start at approximately mid-morning and then continue to mid-morning the day next. But, nobody's forcing me to do anything and so I'll simply tell you about a day that was beautiful and calming. A day that opened my mind to so many choices and opportunites not previously considered. A day that I will always remember and that I will forever allow to bring me comfort when it's needed.

A telling and auspicious start to the day arrived with our morning coffee. It was actually good. Previously, I'd entertained a feeling of superiority over a country and its people that seemed so set on making such bad coffee. Intellectually I understood that coffee wasn't really their first choice in a morning caffeine vessel and that this may have affected their execution. Emotionally? Smug superiority. But, I must now admit, Bridie of Berkley Lodge B&B can make a pretty fine cup of coffee. And so, a remarkable day began.

We drove into County Kerry with the intent of exploring Killarney National Park. We drove through the town of Muckross, the location WB Yeats was reported to have written his poem Sailing to Byzantium. I'd never really been a fan of Yeats prior to our visit to Ireland. Have since realized that perhaps this was the result of never having actually read any of his work! The Yeats poem in question begins "That is no country for old men" and was the inspiration for the title of Cormac McCarthy's novel recently made into what many people consider the best movie of 2007. I just love little bits of trivia like this:)

Once in the park, we stopped at the Torc Waterfall. We took a great hike around the area and just soaked up the feel of Ireland. I don't know how else to describe it. I have been to a large majority of our own country's national parks and they are, in a word, amazing. Some even have similar topography and vegetation. But, never for one single second that I was in this spot did I forget that I was in Ireland. Spending time in Kerry you can understand the Irish people's fascination with faeries and the mystic world in general. It just seems, I don't know, possible there. I've since that day read one of Yeats' poems called "The Stolen Child." It has a chorus of sorts that transports me back to a particular place in the park by a little creek where you want to believe anything can happen.

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

We drove along the Ring of Kerry a bit until we reached Kenmare. Kenmare is a super sweet and quaint little Irish town that I fell a little in love with. We stopped in at the Kenmare Book Shop and my heart or my soul or something just said, Home. The store was about the combined size of my kitchen and living room and it was perfect. It had a shelf of native wildlife books to satisfy Gigi's bird obscession. A shelf dedicated to Irish authors where I discovered my new favorite novelist. A shelf for poetry. And, yes, of course I picked up a collection of poems by WB Yeats. Another shelf full of cookbooks - I'll be doing a little Irish baking this weekend! I'm currently in the middle of reading another find from that shopping experience: Jaywalking with the Irish.

I guess it was this last book that really started the little tickle/trickle in my brain that would later, over a latte in a cafe down the street, turn into a Torc-esque waterfall of revelation: I could live here. I could pack up my apartment in Dallas, TX and move to a little cottage along the coast in Co Kerry, Ireland. I really could.

Feeling a little tired from the both the physical exploration of Killarney National Park and the mental exploration of self, our next stop was to check into our B&B for the night. It was called Shaminir and boasted "probably the best view in all of Ireland." Our hostess immediately offered us "tea for two" upon our arrival and kept us company in her very comfortable and homey lounge. There is something so calming and comforting about drinking tea from an actual tea pot while using actual tea cups in the early evening as you watch the sun set over a spectacular view of the Kenmare Bay. *Note* If you ever find yourself planning a trip to the country of Ireland, I truly feel you would be remiss in not including a visit to Kerry. You would be even more remiss once there not to take advantage of the beautiful and warm hospitality of Jim and Joyce Hughes and their home, Shaminir.

Once tucked in for the night, I found that although my body was calmed by the charming tradition of an Irish tea my mind continued to stream from one thought to the next. I didn't know how to get a handle on all the ideas and emotions this country was eliciting from me. And as I sit here and write this I realize the truth is, I still don't. But, eventually I fell asleep that night. And I dreamt of Ireland.