Sis had the day off work today for Shavuot, so we took a little road trip to Stillwater. Thought we'd look around a little, then grab some lunch. But after we picked up some cool notebooks at the delightful Mara-Mi and some fudge at Tremblay's and sat by the river for a spell, we decided to split. Stillwater was seeming a little ragged, run-down and dirty.

Main Street -- Stillwater, MN

Unsure where to go next, we headed back to the Cities and ended up in our old neighborhood in South Minneapolis. Of course we had to drive by the house. There was NO ONE around on our street. Seriously not a soul. We had driven by the old place many times, but for the first time we parked and walked up the sidewalk a bit to check things out more closely.

The house looks great, except they painted it a bluish-grey, which is wrong. It is supposed to be white. It was white for over 85 years and it should have stayed white. It looks nice enough, it just blends in more, looks less special. I am not sure it was so striking on its own or if it was the contrast between the paint choice of our next-door neighbors. I remember telling people coming to my house for the first time: "Go to 41st and Wentworth, it's the big white house fourth from the corner...next to the green house." Don and Bev's electric green house is now beige. 

The lilies of the valley still line the depth of the house on the north side, along the path to the back, but the lilacs have all been removed from the south side. The house looks so bare and exposed. And they've added some sort of central air and ugly external duct work. The lilacs would come in handy to cover some of that up. Now there are just some hostas, or something. 

It was so quiet in the neighborhood. We remembered summer afternoons from our youth on Wentworth Avenue and: kids running through sprinklers in the front yard, playing tennis in the street, running games through neighbors' yards, shooting hoops in the backyard, digging up worms, riding bikes and just "playing". 

Sis said she felt like some septuagenarian recalling her childhood in the 1950s. We decided our youth was more like our parents' than kids today is like their parents'. I don't actually care about all that. When I go to the old neighborhood, it is all about my memories. They play through my head, not like grainy home movies (as you might expect) but like crisp, highly produced scenes. I don't see myself, but I know I am there.

To cap off our trip down memory lane, we had lunch at Harriet's Inn on 40th and Lyndale. Great spot, but hard to get around the fact that I am eating fish tacos and drinking a craft beer in the old Super America convenience store...

Harriet's Inn -- South MInneapolis

Summer Begins

Absolutely gorgeous Sunday afternoon in Minnesota. We had a delightful lunch at Admiral D's in White Bear Lake, followed by peach cobbler, tea and inspirtational conversation on the front porch of The Cottage. 

We discussed several summer road trip possibilities including Lanesboro, MN, Itasca and Mineral Point, Wisconsin. 

A few potential screenplays for Hallmark Channel movies were mapped out - fascinating story lines involving illiteracy, a one-hit-wonder, lost love and Vietnam,

Bernadette Peters as "Aunt Carol" a one-hit-wonder from the 1970s who is in danger of losing her crumbling lake-side estate, but instead of telling her niece who comes for guidance and inspiration of her financial woes, Carol takes off for Portugal, leaving her niece to pick up the pieces. An illiterate son of a Vietnam War veteran college English professor figure in somehow...

Great day today, and I look forward to many more like it this summer...

Just like riding a bike, right?

My six-year-old niece asked me the other day if I knew how to drive.

I explained to her that I don't drive because I am legally blind.

"Yeah, I get that," Ainsley said. "But do you KNOW HOW TO drive?"

I told her that technically, yes, I did know how to drive. When I could see, I used to drive. I had a driver's license, I even drove a manual transmission.

She shook her head. She didn't know what a manual transmission was, nor did she care about that right now.

Ainsley just wanted to know if I knew how to drive AND if I would teach her when she got older.

I thought about it for a moment.

Absolutely. I will teach you how to drive, Ainsley. 

The Brickyard in Prescott

Dad and I took a rainy Sunday afternoon road trip yesterday. We ended up hungry in Prescott, Wisconsin, so we stopped in at the Brickyard Pub & Eatery.

A frosty glass of Spotted Cow and an order of Ellsworth Creamery Cheese Curds were perfect starters. Dad had the soup and we split a Jack Burger...delicious.

I think we'll have to return later this summer when it is not pouring rain to spend some time on the patio...looks nice!

Brickyard Pub & Eatery216 N. Broad St., Prescott, WI 54021715.262.3622

http://www.brickyardprescott.com/index.html

Bono: Punk rocker?

On CBS Sunday Morning today U2's Bono mentioned he wrote a song about his mother for their latest album and it's not very punk rock to write songs about your mother.

About as punk rock as this?

I've been a U2 fan for over thirty years. Saw them in concert for the  first time at the Minneapolis Auditorium on March 19, 1985. I was a month shy of my thirteenth birthday and my mom said I could go if I found an adult to take me. My Aunt Eeny rose to the challenge.

I remember exactly what I wore: dark indigo cropped jeans with deep pockets on the side legs, white v-neck tee-shirt, pink Bennetton lambswool cardigan, pink and white striped socks and black loafer-style flats.

Not very punk rock.

First Days in London - September 1995

So, I pried the drawer open and found my 1995 photo album, covered by a thick blanket of dust. I didn't realize dust accumulated in drawers. I suppose when said drawer is in a hundred-year-old built-in wood buffet, dust gets in.

The album is fairly typical of the time - brown exterior with metallic detail, housing a three-ring binder of plastic-covered sticky sheets. These pages hold photographs, postcards, ticket stubs, dried flowers, brochures, receipts, and more. I guess it's a scrapbook more than a photo alubum.

I still need to locate my travel journal. It wasn't where I thought it was, so I guess I need to go to the next layer of storage!

Let's get started looking at the scrapbook...

The first thirty-two pages of the book are devoted to five days in London. I had forgotten how super excited I was to go to London. This section of the scrapbook features A LOT of postcards. I remember us not taking many photographs while in London. I would like to think were too busy "being there", but we were most likely too busy looking at street maps, Tube maps, keeping track of our passports and getting on one another's nerves. But never fear, there are a few gems of us in our mid-1990s glory.

I won't bore you with all 32 London pages, such as the four or five pages of postcards of my favorite paintings from the Natinal Gallery, or the three pages full of Westminster Abbey brochures. I will try to hit the high points.

Page 2 made me chuckle. We took this bus from Heathrow to our hotel. If I remember correctly, the bus ride took about three hours, stopping at every single hotel in greater London. I am sure I was queasy. And tired. And anxious that Airbus Direct would forget to stop at our hotel.

Our hotel was the Ridgemount near the British Museum. It was run by a very nice couple.

I will describe the hotel and our cute little room when I get to that photo.

We didn't lose anytime, hitting the British Museum the afternoon we arrived.

Nothing like bog bodies and ancient marble monuments to perk up one's jet lag!

This is Regan, on the bottom of the page.

You can see the strap of her "pouch" around her neck. Those pouches were the biggest pains in the neck. Meant to keep your passport, money and credit cards safe and on your person at all times, they proved to be sources of much annoyance and many jokes throughout our three week trip.

That's me on the left. I sure look young...

Looks like I am referencing the guide book. Probably "Let's Go: London". I think this was one of the last times I used a guide book.

In fact, I am pretty sure this was the only time I looked at that guidebook!

Regan - what exactly are you looking at? My memory fails me...












That's all for now. This trip down memory lane might just take me forever...

And by the way, some other items in that broken drawer: a strobe light, an even older scrapbook from my first trip to Ireland in 1988, some tarnished silverware from my grandma, and the clock that hung in the kitchen of my childhood home.

Those things stayed put, covered in the dust blanket. Their times will come.






















\\\

Twenty Years

Me at the Cliffs of Moher, 1995

My sister, Regan, and I first visited Ireland together in September 1995. Twenty years and seven Irish adventures later, it is difficult for me to believe anything that happened in  my adult life could be twenty years ago.

I was 23 years-old, Regan 26. I have so many great memories from that trip. Of course, between sisters, there were a also few disagreements along the way!

I decided I want to go back twenty years and retrace the trip, here on the blog. I will need two things: my travel journal and my photo album. 

I know I have seen that journal over the years, as I shuffled papers and mementos from desk to file cabinet to plastic tote. I suspect it in storage in the basement. Maybe I will get at that on the weekend.  

The photo album is another story. The knob on bottom drawer of the built-in buffet in my dining room fell off in 1999, making it impossible to open by myself and it is nothing I ever think about when someone is over here. Next time Regan's over, we will get that drawer open and pull out the photo album.

I wonder what else I will find in that drawer?

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.