Tall Tales

Back in the day, when I was a Teacher's Assistant for a middle school class, I used to really enjoy telling tall tales. It happened gradually, but I found I got a better reaction when I blurred the truth. Here are some examples of my yarns:

One student would ask me over and over again how old I was, and I always replied 'I'm 73 years young.' He asked why I looked like I was in my 20s and I told him that I had discovered the Fountain of Youth in El Salvador and drank from it. This was when I was an explorer in the 1930s. He asked why I wouldn't give up it's exact coordinates and answered his on question with the following statement, 'You're probably right to keep it a secret. I wouldn't want to be young forever and watch my family get old without me. Thanks Miss R.'

One week we were learning about the Presidents. One student asked me how George Washington died. I got out the Encyclopedia and opened up to the famous picture of Washington crossing the Delaware and explained that while Leonardo daVinci was painting this masterpiece, Old Georgie fell in the water and died of pnemonia. The student said that he didn't believe me and I told him to prove me wrong by writing an essay about the life of George Washington. He did. That, my friends, is called motivation.

I have a scar on the back of my neck. It's not a very big one, but it's there. Usually nobody ever sees it because my hair is always down. One day I had my hair up in a ponytail and the very same student from the aforementioned two stories asked me where I got the scar. I told him that I got it when I was scuba diving - a shark thought it would be neat to eat my head. He asked why I didn't have a scar on the front of my neck. 'Easy,' I said, 'That's because I was wearing steel mesh gloves and was able to block the bite from the shark with one hand while using the other to punch it in the gills.' Hook, line, and sinker.

It turns out that I learned more from them than they did from me. That was my best job ever. I wonder how those kids are doing. I miss them.

A Conversation

*ring ring*

Kate: Hello?
Me: Hey it's me.
Kate: What's up?
Me: Please ask Jay what the word is for fish that are dead and soaked in water and used as bait to catch sharks.
Kate: (to Jay) Eliz wants to know the word for fish that are dead and soaked in water and used as bait to catch sharks.
Jay: Chum?
Kate: Chum.
Me: I KNEW IT. (To the SJC) CHUM!
The SJC: (no words, just a middle finger.)
Me: The SJC just flipped me off.
Kate: Jay is telling me it might be something different in Ireland, so The SJC might be right. I think he's trying to be best buddies with The SJC.
Me: I will not relay that message.
(Laughter)
Kate: Is that why you called?
Me: Yes, we were lying in bed trying to figure out the word.
Kate: Such sweet pillow talk.
Me: I know.
Kate: Isn't it past midnight with you?
Me: Yes, it is.
Kate: And how did the day end?
Me: On a positive note.
Kate: And how does tomorrow begin?
Me: Even better than yesterday.

The Trouble with 30

As I wind down my Glory Years aka my 20s and head into the Great Unknown aka my 30s and then 'Adulthood,' I've started to compile a list of things I don't think I can get away with now that I'm in my 30s. I'm hoping to have a list of 30 things you can't do when you're 30, but so far, I only have five. And here they are:

1. Jaeger bombs. The last time I had one of these, I was 24 and it turned out to be a pretty bad night.
   
   
2. Go out dancing. Not only would the bouncers laugh at 1979 on my license (of course I'd get carded) but it would be too loud, too crowded, and I wouldn't even know half the songs they played. I'd probably start requesting Lil Jon and the Eastside Boyz and Usher. I'd be laughed out of town!
   
   
3. Announce publicly how awesome I think Justin Timberlake is.
   
   
4. Go see a Zac Efron film by myself. It screams cougar if you go alone. Going with a buddy takes some pressure off.
   
   
5. Stay out until 4am. Let's face it. These days I'm exhausted by 9:15 and I don't even have a job.
   
   

Some of these items make me sad, specifically numbers 2 and 3, so I will make it a quest to prove them wrong.

Another 'Trouble With 30' is that every time I call home now, my parents expect me to have news. I'm pretty sure they mean nnews of the baby making variety. It's amazing how disappointment comes across crystal clear after traveling 3000 miles of telephone wire, isn't it? I like kids alright, specifically my niece. One time I was a camp counselor and I lived to tell the tale. But recently I yelled at a kid to shut up, so let's just leave it at 'I'm not there yet.'

In this last month of my 20s, a most beloved decade in my life, I'll be posting my favorite memories on Twitter and my favorite pictures here.


Kate and Me, on my 21st Birthday aka Christmas 2000.
I'm on the right in the blue, looking a little bit too excited to be drinking Amstel Light. Nice pearls, by the way. This was the night that my brother drove my sweet ride, a Dodge Intrepid, home from the family Christmas party and a deer hit the car. No, the car didn't hit a deer, a deer hit the car. I cannot stress that enough. I was in shotgun, Kate, Jay, and Molly were in the backseat. After Mark pulled over, he and Jay ran out to find the deer while Kate was wailing in the back seat 'I could see it's eyes! It looked me in the eyes! I could see it's eyes!' Merry Christmas to all.

*Blogger's Note: I have no problems crossing the threshold from 29 to 30. I embrace it. Age is nothing but a chronicle measurement of time.*

Happy Birthday Dad!

Many things have changed for my Dad over the past year. For one thing, he made a new best friend (see picture above) and favors her above all else. Not that the rest of us mind, you see, we're all crazy about her too.

He had another addition to the family, the SJC, though technically the SJC married into the family in 2008. Because of this most recent second addition, Dad put on his Sunday best and hosted the Wedding of the Century.



I haven't gotten to talk to him much since the wedding ended, and that makes me pretty sad. It's very hard to be away from the family, especially during birthdays and holidays. Dad, I wish I could be there today to celebrate your birthday with you, but instead this post will have to make due.

To Peter. The Man who snuck my Varsity Letters into my luggage the last time I left Metropolis for inspiration.
To Peter. The Man who at 60 looks and has the energy of someone much much younger.
To Peter. The greatest father in the history of the world.

Happy Birthday Dad! I love you!

Now that the dust has settled

It's funny. The other day I was at TK Maxx (the poor man's TJ Maxx) thinking 'Wow, I wish we had better travel mugs here. These are wimpy and small.' I considered many things, placing yet another call stateside to signal to my Mom to send some coffee mugs, but she doesn't drink coffee, and would probably send a Thermos full of tea instead. And we have enough tea here, thanks very much.

That weekend we were in Sligo and were handed our last wedding gift, from my Mom's cousin Judy, who is actually also my cousin. Judy is from Roscommon and moved to the US of A when she was a teenager (I think I have that right,) so she's legitimately Irish-American. Take that, fakers from Southie! So we were handed a parcel to open and I tore into it. I saw the Dunkin Donuts box and thought 'OH MY GOD SHE SENT DONUTS THIS IS AMAZING.' I opened it and saw something even better than donuts (it travels better, too!) Behold, our gift from Judy:



Note the two travel mugs that say 'American Runs on Dunkin.' The SJC is the envy of every man, woman, and child on the DART these days. Last night we got home from the rugby and tore into the Dunkin Donuts coffee to warm up. It was delicious. The place mats are perfectly matched to the Fiestaware - how did you know?

Thank you thank you thank you THANK YOU JUDY for this wonderful gift! You are, as my people say, Wicked Awesome.

Here is another great gift we received:



Jazz O'Shamrocks from my cousin who works at Saucony. We wore them to the rugby match yesterday and I'm pretty sure it was the power of the shoes that caused Brian O'Driscoll to score that last minute try. You're welcome, Brian.

Scenes of Dublin

I recently moved the pictures from my old mobile phone onto my computer. I did this in a very roundabout way, by getting a new phone that was modern (take that, Nokia) and came with a USB cable to transfer images from the camera to your computer. Luckily the memory cards were the same size so with a little switch-a-roo, I will no longer be sad that all the good pictures I took on my trusty old Nokia will never see the light of day.

It shouldn't surprise you that they are already in a Facebook photo album. Clearly I brought my A-Game yesterday.

Not much is going on with me these days, considering the wedding is over and now we're in a lull between Wedding and Christmas. Thanksgiving doesn't feature here (you'd be surprised how many people ask me that.) I'm going to Oxford for Thanksgiving with my mother and father-in-law to visit my sister-in-law, and my other brother-in-law and his wife will be joining us. They're all going as Pilgrims, whether they know it or not, and I'm going to be a Native American. Mom, send me a headdress, or I'll just wear my Natick Redmen shirt.

Anyway, to pass the time between now and then, I will post pictures I have taken with my mobile. This first one is aimed at D. Shays.

Bewley's Oriental Cafe on Grafton Street

Bewley's Cafe on Grafton Street is a little bit famous. When my family was here in 2005 visiting Smalls at Christmas, my Mom and Dad would go to Bewley's every morning for tea/coffee and breakfast. When I first moved over in 2007, I would go there often until it lost it's magic aka I realized it was for tourists. Since then I've been back twice, both times to get the Orla Kiely tea cannister.

Up next is J Bermingham's on Dorset Street (aka the North Side) aka my Worst Pub in Dublin.


No, I've never been. Because it's on the North Side? No. Because it looks like a 1960's office building, and having had to work for Corporate America for several years, I tend to avoid office buildings like the plague. Plus, I don't think many people go into this pub anyway, unless they're lost and looking for paper clips and three ring binders.

And finally, Americaville.


Also known as Dundrum Town Centre or as I like to call it 'The Mall.' Feeling homesick, Americans? Go to Dundrum. There is a Gap there.

Tomorrow: Beautiful Irish vistas.

Sayanora Starfish

This weekend we went to Sligo to say sayanora to a whole lot of starfish.

It's so weird. There was a storm in Sligo that washed up a bazillion starfish on the beach of Lissadell. Naturally, we went to see the carnage.



It was quite a sight. There were a lot of people scatterd on the beach taking photos and looking at the dead starfish. I kept calling them jellyfish. Wishful thinking, I suppose.



Despite the grim scene on the beach, it was a lovely day in Sligo.

A Maldivian Picture Post

Sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words. This is one of those times.

Proof we were over the water


The SJC kayaks around sunset


The dhoni we went fishing on


The SJC and the catch of the day


What a difference a day makes - Friday's view from our balcony


Same view on Saturday

If you ever feel the need to go to the Maldives - GO. GO RIGHT NOW. And take me with you.