The Little Things

This morning I got an invitation to a birthday party for my friend's 2 year old son. No, I can't go, because it's soon and in Massachusetts, and I'm going to be in Ireland. However, after years of not getting invited to things, it's nice to be remembered. Thank you, Jenn!

Which brings me to my next point. Attention people who have international friends: You should invite them to birthday parties, christenings, and holiday dinners even if you know they can't come. I've heard two arguments about this scenario. One is anti-invite with the thought the invitee will be upset and sad because they can't go. The pro-invite argument is that the invitee will be pleased and delighted you took the time to think of them and care about them enough to invite them somewhere just to let them know you're thinking about them even though they're over 3000 miles away.

I'm incredibly pro. I've been snubbed several times by people who just think to themselves 'Oh, they can't come, I won't bother.' Well to me, that thought is 'I don't care enough to want you to be there.'

No, I can't always go to Thanksgiving. I can't always go to a birthday party or a bachelorette party, but it's nice to be invited.

Also, I'm tired. I didn't get to sleep until around 2am and woke up at 7:30. I see a 3 hour nap in my future (Sorry Kerry!) in the form of the Sligo train.

On that note, time to make some coffee. I obviously did not bring my A-Game today.

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• I think I could solve all of the world's problems today, but this one takes precedence: Benecio del Toro should go back to acting in movies and not commercials. Also, the clownbags outside should quit dredging the canal because SOME OF US want to sleep.
  
  
• A really great word I was introduced to yesterday was 'doucher.' As in, "Did you see a picture of that doucher who won Powerball?" Yikes bikes. Here's the thing. If you win a huge jackpot in the lottery, why the hell would you put your name and face in the public domain? Has nobody seen It Could Happen to You? People will come out of the woodwork asking your for money!
  
  Side note: I wonder how many emails Bill Gates gets a year asking for some cash. Probably a lot.
  
  
• You know another great term? Clowns. And it's many variations.
  
  
• I bought some Twinkies when I was home to bring back for The SJC because he's never had one and I can remember them being bliss when I was a kid. I thought maybe this act would lure him into moving to the US because, you know, Twinkies have the power over me or Target when it comes to persuading him. So I had a Twinkie last night and, well, I got sick. I think it's because my body rejected the idea of anything that could survive a nuclear war being passed through my digestive tract. Then I thought about why I originally thought Twinkies were bliss and remembered that they were forbidden in our house when I was growing up.
  
  Does that shock you? I should also point out we weren't allowed to drink soda, and during the rare (and I mean rare) occasions my Mom would break down and take us to McDonalds, we got milk. Oh, is that weird? Try this on for size: when it came to buying cereal, we weren't allowed to put it in the cart if any of the first three ingredients listed were sugar. Do you know how hard that was? Next time you're in the supermarket, check out the ingredients listed on cereal boxes and see what you come up with. Spoiler Alert: you will end up with Cheerios.
  
  

Weekend Review

This weekend went by in sort of a blur. Not because so much happened, but because I was asleep for most of it. As I've previously mentioned, jetlag may be the worst thing ever invented. Saturday I woke up at 10:30am, Sunday I woke up at 12:15pm (actually, the SJC had to wake me up) and today I woke up at 7:30am. Where is the rhyme or reason? There isn't any.

Yesterday we met up with J.Lo and we went out for brunch at the best restaurant in Dublin, Herbstreet. No, not Jennifer Lopez and her husband Marc Anthony, but the SJC's brother and his wife, who hail from Gloucestershire, England (not to be confused with Gloucester, Massachusetts because they're ever so similar.) Unfortunately for them, I did not bring my A-Game (note the 12:15 wake up) and spent much of the day staring into space and possibly drooling like I just had a lobotomy.

Here's something about J.Lo - you'd want them on your team. These two could survive the Spanish Inquisition. They could be in a room for questioning for 24 hours and not show signs of strain. They don't crack under pressure!

Oh my God Liz, can you get any more boring? I can, actually. Let me tell you about the English Muffins I brought back from home. And how I refuse to share them. And how good they are with Kerrygold butter. And how I bought Twinkies for the SJC only to learn how he's put off by them because of a Family Guy episode. You know the one - they travel to the "Twinkie Factory in Natick.' Which, I'm sorry to say, has been replaced by Nordstrom.

So after a glorious week in Metropolis, I'm back in Dublin. The weather when I was home was magnificent and sunny, I spent 6 out of the 7 days with some of my favorite people, saw the Boston Marathon, went to my favorite watering holes with friends, and asked Aer Lingus if they wanted my seat for someone else on, what turned out to be, a somewhat empty flight.

Maybe next time, Aer Lingus! Oh, I forgot, next time I'm flying Virgin Atlantic. Score one for Robbins!

**Update**
My Dad sent me this link to a Twinkie's Science Project that took place at Rice University in 1995. Twinkies will never die! The proof is in the science!

On Jetlag

The great thing about flying is that in 5 hours, you're at your destination, even though it's 3,000 miles away. The downside is that little bitch called jetlag.

For me, it's not so bad going from East to West (DUB to BOS) because it's easier to stay up later and wake up earlier. It's the college student in me. Sure, it takes me a few days to realize that waking up at 4:45am isn't awesome in EST, I should stay in bed until at least 7, but in the end, it's worth it.

It's going West to East that really throws a monkey wrench into things. Those five little hours have the ability to screw with everything about me.

So I landed in Dublin this morning at 5:45am GMT, about a half an hour behind schedule because the pilot decided that one way to avoid the ash cloud (oh, haven't heard about it?) is to avoid it all together by going south and then north. Sure it was a slight south and a slight north, but still.

I was greeted by the handsome face of my lover and together we went to the Air Coach and back to the apartment. And that is when things get hazy. It really messes with your head when it's after midnight in your body but it's light out and getting lighter. I think for this reason, I would fail at living in Alaska. Usually when I get back after this flight, I take a little nap and the SJC comes in and wakes me up around 11. And usually I say '15 more minutes please.' And usually he comes back in an hour to wake me up. And then I get up and feel like shit for a few hours before falling asleep on the couch again.

Today, the SJC had to work. So I fell asleep around 9:30am and woke up at... 4:45pm. And I felt like shit for a few hours and now I'm ready to tackle the world.

Give me an hour, I'm sure I'll fall asleep on the couch.

So what is it about flying overnight that royally messes up my next day? How can pushing one night's sleep back make me want to sleep all day? And when did jetlag go out of style?

The answers to all these questions is teleportation.

Also, Happy Birthday to Liam! Born to Meg and Justin this morning at 3:25am. Congratulations and welcome to the world!

Marathon Monday

"Why do you like the Marathon so much?"
"Um, how could you not?"

Today was Marathon Monday. Also known as Patriot's Day in Massachusetts, a day of joy and delight and a day full of watching other people exercise.

And also heckling them. And by heckling them, I mean cheering them on.

I went with my Mom, my Aunt, my sister and my favorite little Beano Bear. The weather was great marathon weather (slightly chilly for standing in one place, but good enough for the runners) and we had a great viewpoint. Right at mile 8 in Natick, across from the Poland Spring station. We saw a lot of people checking their watches, and more importantly, we saw my friend's husband who flew all the way over from Ireland to run the marathon. And I hope he found Natick to be the most beautiful town he ran through because he had four women (including Beano) cheering for him.

Today I learned that my aunt prefers men with no shirts on and likes to cat call to them. My Mom will definitely tell a stranger he's handsome, which in turn will produce a shy smile on the handsome man's face. ("You look handsome today, Liam!") I prefer to cheer for the Koreans (they carried a flag!) My sister chose to tell every runner passing mile 8 in a 26.2 mile race that they were winning. ("You're winning! Yeaaaah!")

I'm sure that makes them all feel so good.

Congratulations, runners. You were all winners today!

Home Sweet Home

My trip to Metropolis this time was amazing. I was on a brand new aircraft (St Patrick) and there was nobody in front of me and nobody next to me, which meant that I got to sleep for a few hours. Bliss.

The best part about the whole thing? If you're flying Aer Lingus, you go through immigration/Border Patrol in Dublin, so when you get to Boston, you simply waltz out into the arrivals hall.

We landed 45 minutes early. I didn't check in a bag. I was one of the first people off the flight, strolling past all the suckers who just came to the US on British Airways and Air France, waiting at Border Control to get their retinal scans, finger prints, DNA samples, and letters to the US Government giving up their first borns (seriously, State Department, does it need to be that difficult?). I strolled right past all of them and right into the baggage hall, where I strolled right past all the fools on my flight who checked in luggage (because they didn't have a Mom to go to Target for them and get lotion and hairspray, clearly,) and walked right out into the arrivals hall.

At first I thought my parents weren't there so I was like 'fuck this noise!' and then I heard a shout. There they were!

And the weather in Boston yesterday? 73 and sunny. Bliss.

We went to the Cottage again for dinner, had some delicious micro-brewed beer, went back to the house and watched 2012 before I collapsed into my delightful, queen sized bed. The only thing missing is the SJC.

Today I am going to see my sister and my niece. It's going to be a good day.

It's Like Christmas!

Happy Anniversary to the Love of my Life, the SJC.

2 years ago we were married in my parent's living room in Metropolis. It was supposed to be outside by the Charles Rivers Falls in South Natick, but there was a rain delay. Special thanks to our neighbor Floss who performed the ceremony.

Yes, and in October of 2009 we were married in a church under the eyes of God. You can have two weddings you know!

I had a pretty terrible Christmas. It was my 30th birthday and I had to go to the ER. ON CHRISTMAS. I mean, come on. Talk about a double whammy.

I would like to officially wipe the memory of that day and replace it with the memory of this day, a day in which I woke up to a bouquet of lilies and a big box addressed to me sitting on the kitchen table. I shrieked, naturally, as you do when you're 30 years old and see a box addressed to you on the table when it is no where near Christmas.

And I ripped it open. I won't lie, I won't sugar coat it. I paid no attention to the carefully folded corners and the scotch tape - I ripped the paper off with sheer excitement and a little bit of fingernails that are a touch too long and a smidge too sharp.

So last night, I kept thinking about how I'm going home on Wednesday and only doing carry-on luggage. My mind kept going over all the possibilities that would allow me to bring one bag with underwear, socks, and a computer. And I couldn't quite get it all to fit comfortably without imagining a scenario in my head that involved my underwears spilling out all over the x-ray machine at Dublin Airport.

Needless to say, it was a tough night for sleeping.

The SJC gave me a netbook for our anniversary. Dublin, those shouts of delight were from me this morning, in case you were wondering. And yes, I did think it was totally appropriate to call The SJC at work right away and sing "Have I Told You Lately That I Love You" over the phone.



Happy Anniversary! Here's to many more!

Paging Dr. Robbins

Today I lunched with a couple of friends, two of whom are knocked up and one that is keeping it real with me, living 2010 being child free. I had to make it rhyme.

Meg is 10 months pregnant. You know how they're like, "Oh a lady's gestation period is 9 months?" Well, biologically that is a lie, it's really 10 months, because the first month is the month where you don't even know you're knocked up so you're still sipping champagne when you're thirsty and bungee jumping off bridges while eating soft cheese. (I thought that's what all non-pregnant women did?) 9 months is another one of those lies they tell you until you're pregnant and then they're all like, "Well you're in it now, so you should know, it's 10 months." Don't believe me that they keep it a secret? Ask about a mucus plug sometime. And try not to vomit.

Meg's due date is Thursday of this week, so her days are numbered. Today she had what I diagnosed as contractions and then re-diagnosed as Braxton Hicks. Luckily I wasn't the only internet wizard Doctor on the scene. Dr. Sproat was there too. And a good thing too, because we brought our A-Game.

Meg would gasp and hold on to the table and immediately we would cease conversation and pepper her with questions such as "How are you feeling?", "Can you talk through this?" and other various questions that I'm pretty sure pregnant women who are about to give birth and are uncomfortable in general really love answering.

Dr. Robbins and Dr. Sproat were there with our self-imposed MDs in hand, ready to jump into action. We were so prepared, we would have boiled water and ripped up towels and delivered that child ourselves. Then we may never have seen Meg again. A small price to pay to be on the front line of the battle grounds. This was our time to shine. For too long we've been on the sidelines or 3000 miles away from people going into labor, so we couldn't help. But today we knew what to do. Hail the 77 and take Meg to the hospital. (Note, we would have taken a cab, but laughter helps babies want to escape the womb, I think. They probably want to know what's so funny, so they're born.)

We made it through lunch without one hour of contractions 2 minutes apart but staring at Meg like she was going to give us some physical sign that she was ready to go.

After lunch we strolled back to Meg's place (she has a patio AND outdoor furniture. She's so lucky.) We almost got beers, but then thought "No. Alcohol could cloud our judgment." We read People Magazine to each other and had ice cream instead. Meg didn't have any more contractions, but the point was, she did have contractions.

And Drs Robbins and Sproat were there to win the day.

Oh well, maybe tomorrow.

Another Reason to Move to Denmark

Carlsberg Employees Strike.

The article says this:

"Several hundred warehouse workers and drivers at Danish brewery Carlsberg halted work for a second day today to protest a company decision to limit beer drinking at work to lunch breaks."

Woah woah woah woah woah Carlsberg employees. You were allowed to drink on the job? Do you work in Heaven?

"The strike in Denmark followed the company's decision on April 1st to introduce new rules for employees on beer drinking at work, said Jens Bekke, spokesman at the world’s fourth largest brewer.

"There has been free beer, water and soft drinks everywhere," he said. "Yesterday, beers were removed from all refrigerators. The only place you can get a beer in future is in the canteen, at lunch."

Let me get this straight. Even though there isn't beer on every corner, employees can still have a liquid lunch? Yes? Cool. I still accept your terms, future boss. But how does this affect the drivers?

"Mr Bekke said drivers retained an old right to three beers per day outside lunch hours, and warehouse workers claimed the same right."

Oh thank God.

It really IS the best beer in the world.


(PS, the trucks have alcohol locks, so the drivers can't drink and drive.)

Happy Birthday Mom!

Happy Birthday Mom! Have a great day, a better trip to Ireland this summer, and a fabulous year!

My Own Personal Leap Year

Remember when I wrote an Open Letter about Leap Year aka the Worst Movie Of the Year? I cited many reasons why it was impossible, one of them being that it doesn't take 2 days to cross Ireland.

I'm still right about that, but on Monday, I thought the joke was on me.

On Monday in Sligo, there was a breeze. Okay let me elaborate. It was more like hurricane force gales of wind that make you think 'Holy hell, this house is going to take off.' But it didn't. No wonder most Irish houses are built from concrete. That shit stands up to the wind in a way vinyl siding never will. Don't believe me? Google 'Tornado damage.'

Okay we've established there was a breeze. And some rain. The kind that pelts across and stings your face and you're like 'WTF, is it literally raining needles?' No friend, drops of water. So the weather was not desirable one little bit.

And we were flying from Sligo to Dublin. Sligo Airport is nestled in between the ocean and a couple of mountains. It gets a cross breeze. On Monday that cross breeze was about 40 miles per hour. That's a strong wind.

So the Dublin to Sligo flight was nearing, we could hear it from above and we heard it come close and then...not land. And about 15 minutes later, there was an announcement that the flight was going to try to land again. So we heard it come close and then...not land again. And then head directly back to Dublin. Sucks to be everyone on that fight, huh? You're preparing for landing when the pilot comes on and says 'Well, we're heading back to Dublin instead.' It's not a long flight (30 minutes) but you've come sooooo close. And have to head right back.

So what happened to those hapless folks who were scheduled to be on the Sligo to Dublin flight (ahem, me and the SJC?) Why, we're put on a bus, of course. The drive from coast to coast is about 2.5 hours on a good day, but this was not a good day. A little over 3 hours later, we were back in Dublin, at the airport, dropped off at the departures hall. Everyone with a connecting flight missed their flight, and the airport itself was a ghost town.

From there, we took another bus (The Aircoach) to Ballsbridge and walked back to the apartment.

So in all, it took about 5 hours to make what was supposed to be a 30 minute plane ride and 30 minute bus ride. But it did not take 2 days. I did, however, fall in love with my traveling companion. It helps that I loved him to begin with, though.

And the best part? The weather in Dublin: dry, not a breeze in sight. What a difference a coast makes.

With Extra Ice

I was in Sligo this weekend for Easter. Easter in the IRL lasts from Good Friday to Easter Monday. At least 92% of Catholics running the show got something right. Now if they can only convince the government that all weekends should be 4 days long...

I love Sligo. The scenery is spectacular. I'm a little bit jealous of The SJC who grew up with Ben Bulben in the backyard compared to me, who grew up with the Natick Mall in the backyard. Though sometimes, when I'm feeling grateful for commerce, I'm not jealous and continue to think that I'm better than everyone else for it.

We went to lunch at Yates Tavern, which for some reason I love, and I was harshly reminded why I should never order a Coke in an Irish restaurant. Let this be a warning to future travelers to Ireland. When you order a Coke in an Irish restaurant, they usually cost about €2.50 and you don't get free refills.

And here is how big they are:



Yeah, Michael Jordan can drink that in one gulp. How is that for a topical reference? They're so little because the restaurant doesn't have a soda fountain and all their soft drinks come in the small glass bottles, last seen in the US during the Jazz Age.

You also get one or two cubes of ice in your beverage, which is more than enough. Now that I think of it, that's probably the size of the Coke you'd get in the US, just without one gallon of ice shoved in the cup. No wonder they give out free refills!

Just get some water as a backup if you're feeling thirsty. Or, if you're a high roller, get another Coke. I hear legend that you can ask for a pint of Coke, but I've never had the balls.

Our New House

We bought a house!




24 Fitzwilliam Square, Dublin 2. The asking price was slightly over €4 mil, but we talked them down to €250k.

Why yes, I do have previous experience bartering. I don't want to brag, but one time in the Bahamas I talked a woman down from $20 to $5 for an oyster shell necklace. I'll chalk it up to good, old fashioned relentlessness and the inability to accept the word 'no' as an option.

Anyway, we move in next week. I'm off to IKEA now to see what they can do about the inside of the house. I'm not big on the way it's currently decorated. We'll be making a big trip to the dump to get rid of all those French antiques!

And I'd invite you all over for a BBQ but I'm worried you may break some of my fine IKEA furnishings.

Cheers.