Throwback Thursday from April 2016 – “A Soft Irish Morning – It Comes With Chips”

 

 

 

 

Throwback Thursday from April 2016 – “A Soft Irish Morning – It Comes With Chips”

THIS MORNING IS ONE OF THOSE MORNINGS that the Irish call “A Soft Irish Morning.” That means that it is chilly, a bit rainy, along with some fog.

I’m not complaining mind you, but looking out through the window and seeing all that, the word “Soft” is not one that pops immediately into my thought. But you know the old saying, “When in Belturbet do like the Belturbeters do.” It’s only polite.

Cruisin’ For A Fair Irish Bruisin’

ONE PROBLEM THAT I HAVE, among the multitude I must admit, is one that can be both embarrassing, along with the potential for getting my head kicked in.

I have the habit, unconscious though it may be, of slipping into whatever accent I hear around me. It’s a sort of a Zelig thing (Old Woody Allen movie, look it up). If I am conversing with someone from Louisiana it will take me just a few minutes before I find myself starting to talk like someone straight out of the bayou.

If I was on the other end of that conversation I would think that this fool (me) was either making fun of me or just plain nuts. I am not trying to make fun of anyone and, well – let’s not go there, OK?

Feed Me. I Don’t Care What

AFTER A FULL DAY of visiting historic Neolithic sites and the 13th century ruins of a Cistercian Abbey we were tired, a bit overwhelmed, and hungry.

The entire trip back to our “Base Camp” in Belturbet was consumed with trying to decide what to eat for dinner. We were exhausted, so preparing a meal for ourselves was quickly ruled out. We needed someone else to do the work and set the food in front of us.

Grocery Shopping Can Be Fun

YOU CAN EVEN SURPRISE ME once in a while – and that’s not easy anymore. After being so long on this planet one sees most things and the variations on those things that crop up along the way.

While I make no claims to any superpowers. I barely have any skills at all other than an active imagination and decent powers of observation. I do notice things.

I Thought It Was Springtime.

April 7, 2016

BABY, IT’S COLD OUTSIDE – and it’s cold inside for that matter.

We have arrived in Ireland in the midst of one seriously nasty cold snap. I’m not up on my Metric/Celsius scale of measurements, but I remember enough to know that 0 degrees Celsius equals 32 degrees Fahrenheit, which in my world equals freezing. I do not like freezing. I am not a quart of ice cream. I am not a package of pork chops. I am not an animal, I am a man!

Sorry, I got carried away there. That last bit is from an old movie, “The Elephant Man.”

What I’m trying to say is that it was cold. And rainy. Why do I act surprised? It’s Ireland and I’m a Yankee Flatlander used to central heating.

I’m Packing It In

WHEN I ASKED MY WIFE, the lovely and ever my Muse, Dawn, what I should write about for today, she said, “Write about how I am a Wizard at packing our suitcases for our Ireland trip.”

That is an abbreviated version of her reply. Her actual answer would have taken most of my 500 – 700 word self-imposed size limit for this blog.

It’s In English, But It’s All Irish To Me

WE ARE THICK INTO THE PLANNING for our visit to Ireland in the spring of 2016. My wife, the lovely and Research Gifted, Dawn, and I are getting bleary eyed looking at websites featuring houses for rent, Historic Sites, and car rentals. It can be a daunting task.

I Dream Of Columbus

THIS MORNING AS I SAT SIPPING my coffee and pondering my next step, I noticed a gentleman who was wearing a T-shirt that said, “Canyonlands – Moab, Utah.”

When I stumbled up to get a refill I stopped by his table and we chatted about that remarkable part of the country. As we spoke I saw the sparks light up in his eyes. He was like me – a man who breathes better on the road.

Ireland! Brace Yourself!

TODAY’S POSTING KINDA FOLLOWS UP on the one from last Saturday about the fantasy list of what we would do if we hit it big in the lottery. When we began to compile that first wish list my wife, the lovely and adventuresome, Dawn, said, “I’d want us to go to Ireland.”