Bean Fail

I opened up a can of beans for dinner the other night and this is what I found. Good thing I had a back up can or we would have been fighting over these three beans!

Flat Sara

Last month my cousin emailed me and asked if we would like to have a visitor. Her daughter's class at school was reading Flat Stanley, a story of a boy who gets flattened. The bonus of being flat is his parents could stick him in an envelope and mail him to various places around the world. Much cheaper than plane tickets! Sara's class was making flattened versions of themselves to send out to friends and family. Our job was to show her the sites, taking pictures of her while she was here, and buy her souvenirs to send home with her. They were going to display their 'Flat' projects at the school's open house in late April.

I thought Flat Sara would be this little flat person on a stick that I could pull discretely out of my handbag when necessary. So, you can imagine my surprise (and Wes' horror) when I pulled her out of the envelope and she was a life-sized version of Sara. No discretion here!

Wes had a business trip to Cyprus, so he took Flat Sara along! Unfortunately she didn't get to leave the room, but she had some nice views from the balcony! Lucky girl!

 Flat Sara with a post box.

 Me and Flat Sara on a walk to the Phoenix Park, with the Wellington Monument in the background. 

 Flat Sara stayed in the Smithfield area of Dublin. Margadh na Feirme is how you refer to the Smithfield area in Irish. 

 Flat Sara and me in front of a local primary school.

Out on a walk to show Flat Sara the sights and we got caught in a shower. There was another woman standing under the doorway with us and when I pulled out Flat Sara and Wes started taking pictures, she decided to take her chances out in the rain rather than with the crazy people in the doorway! Ha!

 Flat Sara at the pub watching the Munster vs Leinster rugby match. Munster won! Woot!

Flat Sara on a picnic in the Phoenix Park. She got to try Club Orange and Tayto Potato Crisps. Two Irish favorites!

The thing about Dublin is there aren't really distinct landmarks here, like the Eiffel Tower or the Coliseum. Instead, I decided to go with everyday things that I thought 10 year olds might be interested in learning about. When I sent Flat Sara back, I sent her with a power point presentation giving more information about the various places she visited, an Irish flag, a potato cookbook, a shamrock, a Guinness postcard, a book about Ireland, and a t-shirt.

I hope she had fun while she was here!

Celebrity Sighting! Well, kind of.

Of ALL the football presenters in the world, we had to walk past Setanta's Pat Dolan yesterday.

Wes: 'That's Fat Pat.'
Me: 'Who?'
Wes: 'Fat Pat!'
Me: 'Who?'
Wes: 'He's a football presenter.'
Me (I'm now at a complete stop, staring at him from about 20 ft away): 'Oh yeah! He's the one that talks a lot of crap against Liverpool, right?'
Wes: 'That's the one!'

Man! Why couldn't it have been Alan Hansen from BBC's Match of the Day!??

He's McDreamy!!! Apparently I would have had to wait my turn to have a picture with him. Wes would have elbowed me out of the way - Alan Hansen is one of the greatest Liverpool players of all time.

And he has gorgeous eyes.

Chocolate really is the Devil

My friend and her 3 year old daughter gave up chocolate for Lent. It was definitely a struggle for both of them and by day 3 the 3 year old was asking if it had be 40 days yet. There was a little calendar on their fridge giving little tips and verses to get them through Lent. On one particular day it asked how many times Satan tempted Jesus in the desert. We read the little story in the bible and talked about Jesus refusing to get caught up in the evil.

Then it happened.

The Devil arrived on their front doorstep, presenting himself (is Satan a guy?) as some delicious home made chocolate chip cookies, straight from America.

I watched the two of them dance around trying to decide what to do with these cookies, while the Devil just sat there, tempting them, decorated with green sprinkles. That Catholic guilt had a pretty strong hold! Should they save them until Sunday (this was Monday) when the priest said they could have a treat? Would they go stale by then? WWJD? Jesus might be sad. Jesus died on the cross for us, we should not eat chocolate.

In the end, it was a draw. The devil was able to tempt the 3 year old, but my friend would not fall. I reassured her that the cookies could go in the freezer and they could just pull them out individually on Sundays.

Don't blame me if I have to eat some chocolate. The Devil made me do it.

Gaeilge

If you can speak more than one language fluently, then color me impressed. If you can learn to speak Irish then you're a genius. To say the language is impenetrable is an understatement. Children here are required to study Irish all through school starting in junior infants (which is like Kindergarten/first grade/reception(UK)) and take an exam when they're 16 (unless they're a native speaker). Even with all that schooling, I think I may speak more Irish than my husband. I'd like to thank my main educator: the Irish public transportation system.

In my previous post I mentioned that I met my friend's little boy, Naiose. She is a native Irish speaker and wants her son to be as well. Her partner does not speak Irish fluently, but he's not too bad. I wondered how this would work and she said that she speaks Irish to him exclusively and he'll learn English from everyone else. Her sister has done this with her niece and it works perfectly.

Of course I spoke to him in English by occasionally, well, let's just say I wowed her with my knowledge of the Irish language. I would say something along the lines of:
'Ahhh Naiose...sneaicbheár?' Translated this means 'Ahhh Naiose....snack bar?
Or I would just throw place names at him in my best goo goo gaa gaa baby voice:
'Sraid na Mainistrach!' (Abbey Street!) 'Duga Sheoirse!' (George's Dock!) and of course my all time favorite: 'Na Ceithre Cúirteanna!' (The Four Courts!).

Riding the Luas (which, by the way is Irish for 'speed') can really educate a gal.

Taxi Cab Confessionals

There are approximately one cajillion taxis in Dublin. For a city of about 2.5 million (which is considerably less than a cajillion) people, that's a heck of a lot of taxis. If you're in the city centre on a Friday or Saturday night you will see more taxis than people. In the olden days of three years ago you might have waited hours for a taxi to finally pick you up after a night on the lash. But nowadays you'll have drivers practically getting in an accident just to get to you first. That's what happened to me last night as I stood there and watched them battle it out for my fare. It was actually a little flattering. Everyone wanted some Kim.

I get in the taxi, clearly looking like a tourist with my Nikes and Steelers hat, and the driver immediately starts in about the sorry state of the taxi industry in Ireland (it's every man for himself out there) and the shitty government's hand in all of this. I understand he was a little flustered from the near accident he just caused, but I can't help but think he clearly wasn't hired by Irish Tourism to sell this country to foreigners. So, he goes on and on about Ireland and how it's headed down the crapper and I say, 'Yes, I know. I've lived here for two years and I'm well aware of the problems in the country.' Well, this causes him to go quiet. Yes, Mr Taxi Driver, I might be an American, but I am not a tourist that you can drive all around town before getting to my destination. I'm a local.

Once he knows I'm a local the conversation completely changes. He asks me why I'm here and I explain my husband is Irish.
"What part is he from?"
(Well, with his strong Dublin accent I knew this wasn't going to be a popular answer) "Cork".
He visibly bristled at this answer.
"Are you going to be moving back to America?"
Yes, we're planning on it.
"When? Within the year?"
Yes, he has his visa and we're going within the next 6 months.

Right, that's our emigration plans....let's move on to:

"What does your husband do?"
He works in higher education.
"What do you do?"
I also work in higher education, but I haven't been able to get a job in the two years I've been here. There's nothing out there and that's why we're going.
(He agreed with this and thought it was a good thing that we're moving. He then went on to tell me about how he's starting a course so he can get out of the taxi rat race. Every taxi driver under the age of 60 has told us he's starting a course. Lord knows where they're all going to work.)

Okey doke.....(un)employment status? Check!

"Do you have kids?"
No, no kids.
"Are you planning on starting a family?"
Why yes, Mr Taxi Driver, we are and I appreciate your concern in these matters! (Okay, I didn't say it quite like that.)

Once we established the status of my fertility we moved on to accents...

"Where do you think my accent is from?"
(This can be a touchy question in Dublin. He was clearly born and bread on the northside.)
Ummm.....Glasnevin?
"So, you're saying my accent is from the northside and not D4?" (Crikey, it's not like I said Ballymun!)
Well, yeah. I live on the northside (you're driving me there, remember?), so I'm pretty familiar with the accent!
"I'm from Raheny. The heart and soul of the country!" (That was added so I was sure to know that contrary to what my Cork-born husband has brainwashed me to believe, Dublin is the capitol of Ireland.)

He was pretty impressed that I could understand him. I was impressed too. I typically let Wes do all the talking when we're in a taxi because I don't have a clue what they're saying. For the record, he thinks the Donegal accent is the nicest accent in Ireland. I couldn't confirm that since I'm not sure if I've ever heard it. He threw out some Irish celebrities with the accent, but I didn't have a clue who he was talking about so he gave up.

Alas...our 20 minute trip was coming to an end....

Great, just drop me off here! Thanks, have a good night!
"No problem. Good luck making your little Corkonians!"
Uh...okay...thanks?

Gifts

Wes went to Liverpool this week and brought back gifts. I think it's fair to say the cat loves hers! There's a receipt in the bottom of the bag, so it's really two gifts in one.

There's a first time for everything!

In all my 35 years I've been asked my advice on matters. You know...'Should I get this shirt?', 'Should I cut my hair?', and an occasional 'What would you do in this situation?' But today I was asked my opinion on a matter that has never happened before and frankly, it threw me for a loop. We were in the shop, buying ice cream (as you do on a beautiful sunny day), and my 9 month pregnant friend who is leaning on a stool, asks me, ME (never been pregnant, never had a baby, Kim) if I thought she should go to the hospital. I channeled the advice that had been given to me over the years by the school nurse and from watching TLC's A Baby Story and said, 'Why don't we get you home so you can rest and if you still are having this pain we'll call you a taxi.' After some time sitting in the sun, eating a Magnum Bar, and listening to interpretive readings from People things calmed down and she was feeling better. I'm thinking I might want to start applying for those obstetrician position after all.....

To all the ladies out there who might be ready to give birth, can I suggest the services of Liz and Kim? Liz will be sure to take your picture while you're sitting at the bus stop having a contraction and I'll ask you questions about the kind of pain you're feeling and speculate on what it means in a completely non-educated way. We could be the team you're looking for!

Hilarious...probably in that 'you had to be there' kinda way.

My cat has never been ones to really care about what is on TV. My friend plays National Geographic videos of birds for her cat and I think that's the coolest thing. Well, tonight this advert for Robinson's Be Natural came on and Little Kitty was definitely interested! Her head shot up (she was sleeping of course), her eyes got big, and she stared at the TV the entire time. Hilarious! Yes, we are crazy cat parents.

My legacy lives on, even when I'm an ocean away!

My mother just emailed me this story about my Grandma and I loved it! Just for reference, Mary and Romayne are my aunts and black walnuts are vile.

I want to relate to you a story that Mary told me yesterday when she handed me a small plastic bag containing a few black walnuts pieces. She said that mom handed them to her out of the freezer the other day telling Mary that they had been in there for about 2 years and needed used up.  Mary asked her why she didn't throw them into some of her chocolate chip cookies she makes and mom said "because Kim doesn't like them". Mary sounded rather incredulous when she said "but Kim doesn't live here".  Mom said "I know but I just didn't use them because I know she doesn't like them".  I think it's only fair to tell you that Mary and Romayne and I are harboring ill feelings toward you because we have been denied cookies with black walnuts just because of you!  (actually till I got to eat the few walnuts that were left some of them no longer tasted good). 

THANKS GRANDMA!!!

Someone was looking for a cuddle

I'm not so heartless to not put down the laptop, but I assure you that as soon as I move it she jumps off, so I have to hold it on my lap while she naps. Such a diva!

Someone's happy about the heater finally working!

(This angle does nothing for her waistline!)

This is where she spent most of last winter. We both miss radiators!

If you keep doing that, your face is going to stay that way!

I was riding the Luas home yesterday and per usual it was jammers. I didn't plan my seating properly at the beginning of my trip and ended up stuck in the middle of a car. I realized this one stop before mine, causing me to have momentary public transportation stress. Normally other people get off at the same time and the crowd loosens up, but yesterday at 3pm at Four Courts, I was the sole person alighting from the train (how British do I sound there!?). Anyways, squeezing myself through the people I sounded like this, 'Sorry, sorry, excuse me, I need to get off, thanks, thanks very much'. I know this doesn't seem odd, but I pronounced the word 'much' similar to the word 'mulch' minus the 'L'. Say that to yourself a couple of times. That's an Irish accent.

When you marry someone with a different accent than you, well, you make fun of each other a lot. My latest one is the way he pronounces 'calm' and if he says the word 'tarantula' to me one more time I'm going to buy him one for Christmas. Even I laughed at the way I pronounced that one. A few weeks ago it came out that the Irish accent beats French as the world's sexiest accent. This made me laugh because if you heard some of the Dubliners around here sex would be the last thing on your mind. Our front window is on the sidewalk so we hear a lot of people talking as they walk by and this gives us a lot of material for our comedy routines. Always a staple in the routine is 'fooks sake!' and of course I end it by saying 'tanks for coming!' Then I turn the TV to 3e (pronounced tree-E) to watch another episode of Father Ted or see what fil-em is playing.

Let this be a lesson to you! If you mock the way someone talks long enough you might just end up sounding like them yourself!

Quotes of the Week

"See Jim! If we were on this side, this is the view we would see!"

-Aunt Linda, as we were driving around Kinsale

"Just follow the signs with the biscuit."

-Mom, giving directions to the Heritage Centre in Cobh

"See, my classmates..."

-Uncle Jim, referring to the other people in his
whisky tasting group at Midleton's

"The weather changes on a dime here, doesn't it?"

-Dad, commenting on the beautiful Irish weather