Breakfast at Wimbledon

But not for me, because I don't have cable TV. This really sucks. 

Watch it online, you suggest? Can't do it because I am not a subscriber to ESPN. 

Sounds like a great match, too. 

At least I can follow it on Twitter.

Go Roger!

WHAT? NO CURDS?

I hate to admit it (I feel kind of like a fat-so), but I was a little disappointed when my dad and I arrived at the Burnett Dairy Cooperative in Alpha, Wisconsin this afternoon and read the sign:

"Sorry...we are out of cheese curds"

The cheese curds were not the only things which brought us 2+ hours from home this afternoon, but they were a major draw. They are really good. Of course Dad couldn't help but give the workers a hard time ("This is embarrassing! How could the dairy be out of cheese curds?") He can get away with this kind of behavior, what with his big smile and cheerful blue eyes.

While Dad hassled the help, I decided on which sandwich I wanted at the bistro. "The Sportsman" was an easy choice: ham, cheddar, spinach, onions, sun dried tomatoes, and cranberry-orange spread cooked panini-style on wheat bread. Click here to see the full bistro menu (and ice cream, too!)

Dad chose "The German", the Burnett take on a traditional Reuben. After lunch we loaded up on blue cheese crumbles, string cheese, bacon cheddar, cheese spread, pizzas, popcorn, and yummy Amish cashew chocolate clusters at the store. We came prepared with ice-packs and insulated totes.

Capped off our visit to the Burnett Dairy Cooperative with a delicious twist cone. Almost made me forget about the cheese curds.

Oh, and by the way, Wisconsin Highway 87 is my favorite highway of the summer so far. Very scenic.

New Kid on the Block

Had a tasty mushroom-swiss burger and several Surly Coffee Benders last night at the brand-new Red Cow Saint Paul. It was a fun evening with Regan and Megan. The Cow is a great spot and a very nice addition to the neighborhood. 

That's Just Not Right

The Girls on Easter Sunday

A couple of weeks ago, I had the nieces and Regan over to dye Easter eggs. Before they started, Ains came over to me in the kitchen with an egg in her hand and said, "This one's for you. You love eggs, so you can eat it." I thanked her, but told her she could go ahead and dye it and then I would eat it later.

This concept truly troubled Ains as she furrowed her brow and shook her head, still holding the egg out for me to take. "Oh no, you can't eat them once we color them...that's just not right."

I explained that it was all perfectly safe and legit to eat the dyed hard boiled eggs. She just shook her head and set the egg on the counter.

After all the handling of the eggs, the garish colors, the glitter, the stickers, and the designs, those eggs did not look very appetizing.

I guess Ains was on the right track...

Current events

"He looks like a Korean Chaz Bono."

Regan's take on new North Korean leader Kim Jong Un.

She makes me laugh.

Serendipity?

For over two months, something has been nagging at the back of my mind, and with the new year fast approaching I need to put it behind me once and for all...or at least until one of my wise-acre relatives decides to bring it up again.

In twenty-three years of travel to Ireland I had never made a mistake in my choices for lodging. Well, there was a sketchy Sligo hostel in in 1995, but since then I have found great accommodations for my traveling companions and myself.

But I blew it this time.

I should have known better - there were few photographs of the house in its online listing, and very little description of the actual accommodations. But I (uncharacteristically) looked past these deficiencies and chose to buy into the extensive narrative of Aghaboe House which was included in the listing.

The owner is an American who fell in love with the property, purchased it in the 1980s, and raised his daughter there. Now that she is in medical school in the States, he rents out the home - his "labor of love" as a self-catering property. Eighteenth century Georgian manor house complete with AGA cooker, concierge, wine cellar and a library containing rare volumes by one of the home's first owners. Well, you can read the story for yourself right here.

I will not go into what a filthy, disgusting dump it was, but I will say that the AGA cooker had probably not been in working condition for over twenty years. But, according to the concierge (I'll call him Rob), who greeted us upon our arrival, he had been at it all day to get it working. Rob was a friendly enough man wearing in a greasy fraying sweater and possessing an odd manner and an even odder Cockney accent (this was County Laois in Ireland, after all.) Rob assured us that the owner would be back any minute, and in the meantime he would show us around.

I wondered if the wine cellar was part of the "kitchenette" Rob pointed out? I may have spied a bottle of the owner's beloved Rioja Crianzas somewhere amidst the rusty hot plate, the stack of plates with dust a centimeter thick, peppered with fly carcasses, and the sink full of crusty, smelly dishes. The library was in the owner's private quarters - set apart from the rest of the house by an attractive vintage bed sheet strung across a doorway.

Didn't I say I wouldn't go into it?

If you don't mind, just Indulge me...we waited more than thirty minutes and there was no sign of the owner. I honestly had no intention of staying at this place from the moment we drove up the overgrown lane and saw the broken down cars and doorless minibus in the drive. I left my phone number with Rob, but the owner never called. However, I did receive a defensive email from him a day or two later telling me that the fact that we didn't wait for him to return "spoke volumes" and if we were expecting a "hermetically sealed hotel" why did we book a historic country house? He went on to tell me he was prepared to defend himself from any action I might take. OK...you do that, you creep.

We found a clean, comfortable hotel (don't think it was hermitically sealed), ate dinner, and got a good night's sleep. By the next morning Helen's (our cousin's wife) brother had found us a castle.

We spent the next two weeks here.

Special thanks to Jim O'Grady for negotiating the deal and to Zane Everard of Lisheen Castle for taking us in.

But most of all, I want to thank to Mike Fitzpatrick and his colossal pit, Aghaboe House for making my best trip to Ireland so far possible.

Training

As I get older (and wiser?) I don't drink as much as I used to. When I was in my twenties I spent a fair amount of time hanging out in bars with my friends. Today, as my fortieth birthday looms on the not-so-distant horizon, drinking a lot and often just isn't as much fun as it was in my younger years.

A few weeks ago, my sister Regan and I were discussing our upcoming trip to Ireland. We talked about our previous trip two years ago and how much fun we had with our McCormack relatives. When we told our cousin Helen where we were staying during our visit, she remarked that it would be a long walk home from Tuohy's. Remembering our evening at Tuohy's from last time, Regan and I agreed that it might be a good idea to dust off our drinking caps and brush up.

We were officially in training. Our first few sessions seemed to be going well - we had some laughs and gradually increased our consumption. Yesterday I asked Regan if she wanted to grab a beer, reminding her of our training status.

Regan sighed, "You know, I don't think this training thing is working for me. What made having drinks fun when we were young is that we just did it. There's no spontaneity here. This feels like work, there's too much pressure. It's kind of like when a fertility-challenged couple is trying to get pregnant..."

I get it. I officially call the training off. I suppose that I will just need to show a little restraint, but at soon as a big pint of Guinness is set down before me, all bets are off. We will let the chips fall where they may...hopefully keeping the hangovers to a minimum.

Spam? Naw...it's entertainment!

The comments that make their way to the spam folders on my Wordpress blogs really crack me up. For example:

• Wow. Kamren thinks I am the Shaq of blogs..."Slam dunkin like Shaquille O’Neal, if he wrote infromtaive articles!"
• I am so glad I could help Chelsi..."I thought finding this would be so aruduos but it’s a breeze!" and Tessa..."Finally! This is just what I was looinkg for."
• Hotshot Bald Cop is an agreeable type..."Right on!"
• Wise words from Vina..."A rolling stone is worth two in the bush, thknas to this article."

Funny stuff.

Long time, no blog...

Sometimes Regan says the funniest things. I am not sure they are all that funny to other people, but they really crack me up. I will get to her latest comment in a moment.

First I wanted to say that we are planning another trip to Ireland this Autumn. I am very excited. Regan and I decided awhile ago that we wanted to go for a couple of weeks, and when my mom caught wind of the plan she asked, "Well, what about us?" So Mom and Dad are coming along. This evening we had a trip planning meeting to discuss car rental and everything about traveling with them came rushing back! It will be a good time, I just need to remember to let things go, or it will be a long two weeks!

Regan bought a new camera. The Sony that I purchased six years ago that she had been using was no longer doing the trick. Dropped a few too many times, grubby niece fingers all over it, out-dated...it was time for an upgrade. The new NIkon made its debut yesterday at Ainsley's third birthday party. Regan was disappointed in her shots and said the camera might have to go back.

Now, here's the funny thing she said. She called me last night after she had time to reflect on the new camera's performance at the party, and with a huge sigh of relief tells me, "Don't worry, Aine. I don't need to bring back the camera."

I hadn't been worrying. She went on. "I just took a sweet close-up of a binder clip."

That's funny because she was completely serious. So, at the very least we will come back from Ireland with tons of great shots of office supplies.

It's a good thing for Delmon she had to work today!

My friend was rather annoyed with having to work today. Independence Day Observed...just not at her workplace. Take a look at the "to-do" list she emailed me this morning. Do you think her employer could have spared her today?

Monday To-Do List:

1. Vote 10 times for Delmon as the Final All-Star...check
2. Order bras from onehanesplace.com...check
3. Vote 10 times for Delmon as the Final All-Star...check
4. Order new printer cartridges from amazon.com...check
5. Read the news on the Irish Central...check
6. Take the long way to the bathroom...check
7. Vote 10 times for Delmon as the Final All-Star...check
8. Look for interesting jobs on the MN Council of Non-profits job board...check
9. Vote 10 times for Delmon as the Final All-Star...check
10. Eat mid-morning snack of blueberry Kelloggs fruit crisps...check
11. Pretend to be interested in stories about Duane's weekend...check
12. Vote 10 times for Delmon as the Final All-Star...check
13. Talk to Roxie about gross bug in the bathroom...check
14. Re-fill water bottle...check
15. Take long way to bathroom - again (see #14)...check Ma
16. Talk with Louise about how much the heat sucks...check
17. Gaze longingly out the window...check
18. Vote 10 times for Delmon as the Final All-Star...check
19. Take vitamin D...check
20. Vote 10 times for Delmon as the Final All-Star...check

She was pretty busy; all this was accomplished by 10:00am!

Made me chuckle.

Annoyed

Over the weekend I found myself beginning far too many sentences with, "You know, I am really getting sick of..."

Fill in the blank with any of the following:

a) BP
b) Summer weather
c) Politics
d) Twins manager Ron Gardenhire
e) Foodies
f) Craft beers and people who talk about craft beers (mainly I am sick of this because it bothers Regan)

Someone I will never be sick of:

My awesome niece, relaxing in the glow of birthday magic...in her inflatable pool...in the living room. She is

checking out the photos she had snapped on her new camera (b-day present from me and Regan), sporting her pink tiered princess skirt (another present from us), and ignoring her little sister sitting next to her in the pool.

Maybe I need to get one of those inflatable pools?

III

My niece turned three-years-old yesterday. Difficult to get my head around that stat. She has always been awesome, and just when I think she could not possible get any cooler, cuter, funnier, smarter, sassier, or sillier, she surprises me. How lucky I am!

I am so excited for her party this afternoon. Regan and I picked out some killer presents. Shhhh...can't say what they are. What if Maryn reads this? She is really advanced...

That was then: three years ago

Lame

When I returned from Ireland last October I said I would write all about our adventures. I set out, with the best of intentions, to recount our three weeks in Ireland. And per usual, I didn't even make it past the second day. Pretty lame.

You can read about some of the fun we had with our McCormack relatives here. This is one of my favorite snap shots from the trip. The two Jimmys outside the old cottage where my great-grandfather was born. We laughed a lot with the McCormacks. I will try to share a few stories if I can manage to post to this blog. Like I said, pretty lame.

photo taken by Regan McCormack, 2009.

Menards: the source for hard-to-find DVDs?

Not only can you save big money, but you might just stumble upon the most inspirational and entertaining piece of television ever created. I am talking about The First Olympics: 1896, a mini-series (1984) tracing the establishment of the first modern Olympic games held in 1896. I loved this mini-series when it first aired (I believe it was at the time of the 1984 Summer Olympics in LA) and practically wore out the VHS tape I made over the next couple of years.

The fabulous cast is led by a very yound David Caruso (NYPD Blue, CSI:Miami) and Hunt Block (he has showed up on a couple soaps over the years). And Dr. Winchester from M*A*S*H, Angela Lansbury, Louis Jourdan, some cute Greeks.

Part Chariots of Fire, part Mighty Ducks, the story primarily follows the fledgling team of Ivy League college students as they train for these "new" games and then make their way to Athens. Threads of love, betrayal, and class/ethnic conflict spice up the plot.

Tiffany Devoy, are you out there? Remember our re-enactment of the train scene on our way to Chicago senior year?

Day Two, Part One: Clare to Connemara

I usually forgo the traditional Irish breakfast and fill up on brown bread and toast (with much butter and jam). Toss in a yogurt and I am happy. For my first breakfast of the trip, I included a huge bowl of porridge. The rest of my party enjoyed their inaugural bacon, sausage, eggs, and puddings. High marks to the baked goods.

We lingered in Ballyvaughan most of the morning. I liked the Hylands Central Hotel - free wifi, comfortable beds, tasty breakfast. Ballyvaughan is a great town, too. Regan mentioned that it reminded her of Ireland in 1995 (our first trip to Ireland together). We would like to return, probably purchasing this property.



The only item on our day's agenda was tea with the McDonaghs in the afternoon, so we leisurely made our way to Connemara. It was a perfect, sunny day for the drive. As we drove through Galway City on our way to Spiddal, I felt like J.M. Synge. Well, I would have felt like J.M. Synge had I read his "Aran Islands and Connemara" before the trip. I had never been to this corner of Galway. Spectacular scenery along the north Galway Bay coast.

Regan snapped this photo outside of our lodging, Pádráigns in Furbo (a "suburb" of Spiddal). 80 km/h? Yikes.

First Day

We arrived at Shannon airport around 8:30am and once in our cars we headed to Ennis with the intention of configuring our phones for use in Ireland. Why we thought we should try to figure anything out is beyond me. After about an hour in Ennis we gave up on the phones and took our bleary-eyed, somewhat spacey selves to the Cliffs of Moher.

If you fly in to Shannon, the Cliffs of Moher are a natural stop on the first day. The air at the Cliffs feels fantastic on my face that has been made clammy and greasy from 8+ hours in nasty, bacteria-laden recycled plane air.

Fifteen minutes of standing on the edge of the country and I was ready for a nap. Off for the Hylands Central Hotel in Ballyvaughan, County Clare. I have always really liked Ballyvaughan and looked forward to dinner at Monk's after a little relaxation.



Monk's, located at the pier, was excellent. My food was overshadowed by my first pint. Back to the hotel and to sleep.

Apparently Dad couldn't sleep, so he went out into one of many sitting area scattered throughout the hotel to read. He then managed to fall asleep, only to be awoken by a frightened woman who passed by and thought he was dead. I think that is how it happened, anyway.

Eighteen Days in Ireland

Can't believe it is only two weeks since I've been home. It could be ten months. It was cold and crummy when we got home and it will get colder and crummier. Kind of depressing. As if returning from a great vacation isn't depressing enough.

I didn't keep a journal on this trip so I thought once Regan gets the pictures to me, I will put something together here.

Your brother may have been the King of Pop...

but you guys are just dorks.

Katie Couric, in a most somber manner:
"As a tribute to their brother, all of the Jackson brothers are wearing one glove".

The camera pans to the family in the front row of the Staples Center.

This comment in and of itself made me laugh. It was like a SNL skit. And then I laughed even more when I looked at the brothers. One had the right glove, the next the left, the next the right, then the left. And the gloves looked kind of tight. So, my guess is, Marlon picked up two pair of sparkly gloves from the little girls section at WalMart before the memorial service and told Tito, Jackie, and Jermaine to put them on.

I am not sure he deserves any greater tribute.

It's coming together

I am very excited about the latest confirmed accommodation for our Ireland trip. The Old Parochial House looks absolutely wonderful - I can't wait.

As soon as Eeny comes up with a title, I will start a family trip blog. It is shaping up to be, what should be, a great trip.

Real athletes don't wear beards.

While watching the Twins game tonight at Fern's, Regan observed:

"I hate when baseball players have beards. It makes them look like fake athletes."

I completely uderstood this.

And what's with the chains???????