An Irish Rehearsal Dinner

    After 14 hours of sleep, PDub and I headed back to the airport to pick up our friends, TrustFall and John Mayor.  We crammed both them and their luggage into our "SUV" and headed for the rehearsal dinner, which happened to be on the other side of Ireland.  Before I proceed, I must share with you some of the town names that seemed to have a running theme of beginning with "Kil" and ending with what I took to be a person's name.  For instance, there was a Killarney and a Kilkenny.  I later learned that "Kil" actually means "church of" which was quite settling since previously I found these town names quite morbid.  Anyway, on our journey cross country, we decided to stop in at a pub for some grub and bev.  Where else would we stop other than Kilcock?  According to the sign, the pub did not open until noon, so we strolled around Kilcock taking in the breathtaking views and sereneness of the small town.  We were finally allowed in at 12:30.

The town of Kilcock....refreshing to be outside the city of Dublin in the heart of Ireland

Thomas O'Keefe Pub Restaurant for lunch.  Oh yeah, meet John Mayor and his wife, TrustFall.

Behind the bar at the pub....well organized if I don't say so myself.

    We ate, hit the road, and finally made it to our destination.  Finding one's destination in Ireland is quite difficult due to their lack of road names.  Yes, they do have road names and addresses similar to the U.S., but they tend to forget to mark them on the roadways.  Therefore, the little blue dot on AppleMaps was our guiding savior.  Every once and awhile you might find a road sign informing you of its name, but these were usually posted on the side of a building at an inconsistent height.  So, when I say we made it to our destination, I truly mean we overcame winding, hilly roads in a manual vehicle while using a blue dot and a map (that often didn't have pub names).  Let's just say our marriage was tried during this time.
    At the rehearsal dinner, we met up with all of our friends and exchanged our Ireland stories.  Luckily, we weren't the only ones who were given a manual instead of an automatic.  The parents of the bride evidently burned out their clutch in the rental parking lot leading them to drive an automatic; I guess we should have performed such a task.  The stories brought a little comfort to our own travels.  We also met some locals who were very happy to meet some Americans.  One man complimented and told two ladies of our party they were very beautiful.  He followed this up by saying he was drunk.  Irish men really know how to hit on the ladies.  After the dinner, we had an Irish dance lesson, so we would be prepared for the wedding reception.  Yet another day in Ireland...

Rehearsal dinner destination.....a Pub, but of course.

TrustFall and John Mayor pumped for dinner!

PDub and I finally relaxed after a rough day in the "SUV"

Some friends....

I found that you must drink at least one Guinness per day.

The dancing barn....not that the barn was dancing but that we were dancing in the barn.

Our fearless teacher with a kick-butt headset.  I was really expecting him to bust out some Oops! I Did It Again, but Irish jigs were my only entertainment.

AJacks and KielMac getting their groove on.

Professionals.

Driving in Ireland

    Did you know that approximately 66% of the world's population live in an area where driving on the right-hand side of the road is the rule while the other (crazy) 34% drive on the left-hand side?  I am still questioning why we as humans have acquired and even accepted such a difference.  Within these areas, the configuration of the vehicle will also vary.  For example, in the U.S. where driving on the right-side of the road is the norm (and law), the driver's seat and all associated with this powerful position are found on the left-side of the vehicle; however, in Afghanistan where individuals also drive on the right-side of the road, you will find their driver sitting on the right-side of the vehicle.  To me, this is flat out messed up, and it makes visiting other countries even more complicated.

Red: Countries with right-hand traffic.  Blue: Countries with left-hand traffic.

    Before I go on, I must equip you with some more knowledge.  In a 2012 study, 93% of car sales in the U.S. were automatic transmissions while 7% were manual transmissions.  As you can probably guess, the majority of Americans have no skill in driving a manual, and this includes myself and PDub.  Additionally and not necessarily related, men will admit they have this skill 95% of the time (statistic may be fabricated).  So where am I going with this?  The individuals of Ireland have decided to go with the 34% of the world and drive on the left-hand side of the road; the driver's seat is on the right-hand side; and last but not least, the number of manuals to automatics is quite the opposite to the U.S.
    When we arrived in Ireland, we went directly to retrieve our reserved automatic vehicle.  Of course, they were completely out of automatics (go figure), and when asked if he could drive a manual, PDub (with only one lesson behind the wheel previously) kindly said he could try.  I guess if I was completely a number person, the statistics that I presented earlier would have told me that our car rental would lead us to these results, oh well....it's the luck of the Irish.  The next thing I know, I am in a parking lot getting whiplash from PDub teaching himself to drive a manual.  I think back on it now and believe I could have saved my neck and back from a beating if I just waited and watched curbside....but I can't go back now.

For our troubles in not receiving an automatic, they gave us an "SUV" that hardly fit one carry-on and a medium-sized suitcase in the trunk.

    After about 30 minutes of practice, PDub gained enough courage to head out on the open road, left-side style.  We stalled out several times, and I found that sending positive energy his way as well as cheering when he got going again proved to lighten the mood.  Unlike the lovely residents of Virginia, Irish individuals do not find honking a necessity, especially if you are stalled out slowly retreating their way when you've had a green light for 20 seconds.

What is wrong with this picture?....Left-side of the road and right-side of vehicle

    In addition to driving on the left-hand side and shifting with your left hand, the roadways in Ireland (especially rural Ireland) are much narrower, propelling you into bushes and sometimes rock walls when meeting the road-dominating, full-sized tour buses.  I also learned that the best roads are those that have grass growing in the middle meaning there's only room for one car at a time.  Several times we found ourselves reversing in hopes of finding a wider area so that a car could pass.  Driving in Ireland was an adventure in itself, and by the end of the trip, PDub had become a professional manual car driver not stalling once on our last two days; plus I became a peppy cheerleader slash energy sender (just call me Yoda with spirit fingers).

Small roads, small cars...big stone walls, big branches.

Similar to a roller coaster.

Grass growing in the middle of the road.

The term "off-road" took on a new definition seeing we were always on a road.

Across the Atlantic

    Hello blog....My apologies for neglecting you the past month.  I have been busy traveling and accepting travelers, teaching skin care classes, and starting my new job.  My life couldn't be more stressful, but today, I finally have time to recover.  Yes, I would love to spend a portion of my recovering telling you stories of what has happened in this busy, busy month.  So, where were we....

    You are probably wondering why I would part from Maya for more than a couple of hours.  There are only a few things that would take me away from her, and this particular one had rainbows, Guinness, castles, a wedding, and manual cars.  Can you guess?  A little help?  Drum roll please.....IRELAND!  Before I go on, I must inform you that visiting Ireland should definitely be added to your vacation list if it isn't already.  Anyway, we chose to head to Ireland to attend our friends AJacks (who now needs another nickname) and KielMac's fairytale wedding, but that will be for another day.  Today, I must tell you of our travels across the Atlantic Ocean.
    This was my first trip to Europe on the longest flight of my life (course this statement changed on the way home seeing it took even longer to return).  Thankfully, PDub had been to France twice this year, and therefore, took it upon himself to coach me through the journey of airports, airplanes, and jet lag.  After two glasses of wine, some cheese and crackers, and a Cardinal's win (sad to say after this recent playoff series), we boarded our plane close to 10pm on Friday evening where I was greeted with a blanket, pillow, and free movies for the flight.  However, coach told me that I needed to sleep on the way there, or I would feel horrible the next day.  I watched about three movies in all but slept off and on throughout.  I really shouldn't say "sleep"; I nodded off a few times only to be awoken by my head crashing down onto PDub's shoulder....or the man sitting next to me.  Sorry, man.  Needless to say, the flight was miserable, but after chasing the sun for over six hours, we finally caught up and arrived in our oh-so-green destination.

    If you have never experience jet lag, I do not recommend trying it, for life was horrible for a whole day.  We checked into our hotel, and the first action I wanted to perform was sleep.  Coach told me that I was absolutely not allowed to sleep seeing that it was now 10am.  Instead, I jumped in the shower and stood under the hot water for thirty minutes.  If I couldn't sleep in bed, then I was going to sleep in the shower.  After drying off, I looked at my bathroom bag and contemplated whether to apply my night cream or day cream.  Should I brush my teeth?  What part of time am I limbo-ing in right now?  I didn't even get to gift my body with pajamas.  On top of all this confusion, my stomach felt queazy, my ankles were swollen, and my physique was giving anything to be prostrate.
    We completed our day with a stroll through Dublin, eating our only meal for the day (a true Irish dinner), and falling into bed at 6:30pm only to sleep for 14 hours (at least that's what I did; PDub stared at the ceiling for awhile).  The next day, our Irish adventure continued....

Our first of many Irish meals.  A "boxty" is a traditional Irish potato pancake.

Pdub's first (of many) pint in Ireland.

Maya's NYC Vacation

    On Wednesday, Maya and I headed for NYC, so she could have a week of vacation with her best friend Phoebe and favorite aunt Doubles Shark-Whisperer.  Although the journey up there turned into 6 hours instead of 4, Maya still enjoyed herself by satisfying her appetite with a rawhide and experiencing some freedom with the wind in her hair.  After what was forever in my standards, we finally arrived to the bustling streets of Manhattan where luckily we found a parking place just outside our destination (There's nothing like the sense of accomplishment after perfectly parallel parking the first time).

"Let me know when we're moving again, Mom because I really shouldn't have this in my mouth then."

"Aaaaahhhh."

    Maya spent her vacation terrorizing other dogs in Central Park (with a little egging on by Phoebe), getting stuck in bath tubs, making new stuffed animal friends, and relieving herself on the street.  There's nothing like spending a week in the big city!

"Sorry, Doubles, I got stuck in the bathtub again."

"I just love me some Frank time." 

"Peeing on the street....What's that sound....I hope I don't get run over by those yellow things....Oh geez, there's another dog....Phoebe, where are you going....Still peeing on the street....Okay, DONE....I'm outta here!"

Astros and Phillies and Nats, Oh My!

    With the baseball playoffs just around the corner and teams competing for one of the wildcards and league championships, it's time that I write about PDub and my adventures visiting ballparks around the country.  Of course, the only time we would choose to enter into a ballpark is when the Cardinals are playing.  Over the past year we have watched the Cardinals play the Astros in Minute Maid Park, the Phillies in Citizen's Bank Park, and the Nationals in Nationals Park.  All of these parks have given us different perspectives on the stadium, fans, and ball club.
    Minute Maid Park, where the Astros play, is located in downtown Houston and has a retractable roof, which is closed when there is a potential for bad weather.  Their mascot is named Junction Jack, but if I had a say, they should change it to an astroid.  Unlike Busch Stadium where the crowd is a sea of red, the Astros fans tend to wear what they had on that day with no regard for their team, so really we have more of a potpourri of color.  When a home-run is hit by the home team, a train filled with large oranges (that look like pumpkins to me) chugs its way across left field.  The best part about this park is the seventh inning stretch.  As usual, everyone gets on their feet to sing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame," but bonus, you also get to sing "Deep in the Heart of Texas."  So warm-up those voice boxes because the seventh inning is sure to bring you musical joy.  There's nothing like seeing the  cheerleaders on top of the dugouts wearing cowboy boots during this time.  Texas pride and cowboy boots....Something I actually miss!

Minute Maid Park with the train in left field.

The Astros mascot, Junction Jack.

    Citizen's Bank Park, where the Phillies play, is located just outside the city of Philadelphia, and without a retractable roof, you are sure to sit in the rain in bad weather....which we did.  On a few occasions throughout my childhood, I witnessed the rude and sometimes mean Phillies fans on television.  My father informed me that Philadelphia fans were known for this.  Therefore, I was a little afraid to step foot into Citizen's Bank Park fully clothed in my Cardinals gear, but I soon found that the majority of Phillies fans just enjoy booing and not necessarily starting a fight.  PDub and I were booed on several occasions, but it was more in fun than in all seriousness.  How could you not love us?  Their mascot I found to be called the Phillie Phanatic, and I am still unsure as to what this character may be.

This picture reminds me of the individuals sitting behind us who began to boo.

Phillie Phanatic

You can't go to a Phillies game without seeing the cops and an individual using her middle finger.  It's kind of a must.

They start training their fans at a young age.

    Nationals Park, where the Nationals play (dur), is located near Navy Yard in Washington D.C. This stadium has no retractable roof, so once again, we got to sit in the rain.  I guess we were just bad luck for weather on game day.  Anyway, the fans at this park were a little less enthusiastic than the Phillies fans where booing was minimal, but there was a sea of red Nationals shirts.  The D.C. area is composed of so many people from other states that seeing fellow Cardinals fans was not unusual.  At one point during the game, myself and my fellow Cardinals fans began chanting "Let's go Cardinals."  Of course, this did cause some booing.  The Nationals mascot is named Screech and happens to be a bald eagle.  In addition to Screech, you will see prior presidents race around the stadium during the fourth inning.  After their race, they make appearances in the crowd throughout the rest of the game.  This is probably my favorite part, and I look forward to spending some quality time with my presidents next season.

A friendly Nats fan took our picture for us....that's his finger.

Screech, the Nats mascot.

Abraham Lincoln, Thomas Jefferson, and Theodore Roosevelt. 

George Washington and Theodore Roosevelt

We made some adjustments to PDub's Cards shirt before the Nats game.

Locked Out

    I saw my Leasing Agent for the first time in awhile today, and although he probably can't recall my name, he does remember that I somehow locked myself out of my apartment, which is almost impossible seeing that the front and terrace door must be physically locked.  You are probably wondering how I committed such a difficult task, so here's my story.
    It all starts back in graduate school almost a week after I had moved into my first "on my own" apartment.  I was on the balcony organizing my outdoor storage closet when I heard the air conditioner kick on.  Being the economical person that I am, I decided to close the sliding glass door.  The security bar, which my father had to have installed for me and my safety (reminder: I was on the third floor so I guess I needed protection from someone like Spider Man), came crashing down preventing me from opening the balcony door any more than three inches.  I had no phone and the parking lot was empty of any superheroes who could relieve me from my ridiculous situation.  Of course, images of the fire department arriving to set up their trampoline for a successful rescue mission or thoughts of me scaling down the side of the building all Mission Impossible style came to mind.  Instead of relying on others to get me out of this embarrassing position, I MacGyver-ed my way back into my apartment by using skinny arms and a broom.
    This brings us to Arlington, VA on a cold, rainy day when our Leasing Agent took us on a tour of our new home.  As you very well know by now, a tour of our 715 sq. ft. apartment shouldn't take long, but he lengthened this excursion by showing us how certain items worked such as turning on the garbage disposal, starting the dishwasher, and using the security bar on the sliding glass door.  When this portion of the tour arrived, PDub and I couldn't help but look at each other and laugh, requiring a full explanation for the Leasing Agent.

Stupid security bars.

    A couple weeks after we moved in, PDub decided to enjoy a beautiful spring day by going on a bike ride (leaving his phone and keys behind) while Maya and I relaxed on the terrace, reading and soaking up some Vitamin D.  When I heard the air conditioner kick on, I went ahead and shut our terrace door only to see that horrible bar come falling down once again.  The people grilling out in the common area were surprised to hear me yell such a vulgar term.  Instead of leaving Maya on the terrace to cry and bark, I picked her up, climbed through the jungle, asked a sunbather (who was a little overly fascinated with Maya) to sneak me into the building, and depressingly walked down to the front desk.  Who's face did I see?.....Our Leasing Agent!  About an hour after I was let back in, a maintenance man came to rig up a different type of security bar, so such a thing would never happen again.

The terrifying jungle!!!!

The Dub's Terrace

    I will forever and always have "gets impossibly locked out" on my record.  The Leasing Agent asked me again today if I had locked myself out on the terrace lately, and of course, another individual in the hallway overheard, smirked, and told me he wouldn't tell anyone.  So, here I declare to the world that I am a professional when it comes to getting locked out.  Just let me know if you need to read my notes....

Mary Kay Solo Session

    Last night I pampered two lovely ladies completely by myself.  In the past, I have brought guests to a Mary Kay meeting where a well-trained consultant will do the speaking and pampering while I get to sit back and enjoy.  Last night was definitely a first, but unlike most firsts, it was not a complete disaster.  I ran around all day like a chicken with my head cut off cleaning my apartment, gathering materials, and setting up for this huge turning point in my Mary Kay career.
    I spent some of this time walking over to Staples, purchasing some cute pink paper and some "Hello My Name Is..." tags.  Of course, when I returned to print off my documents in our office center, the entire place was torn up and under construction.  Just the perfect day for such a task.  Luckily, our concierge allowed me to print on her computer, but being the tail-between-her-legs type of girl I am, I did not have the courage to change the printer paper to my lovely new pink....or see if she wanted to try some Mary Kay.  So much for my trip to Staples.

Suited up with my pink bubble attire.

The playing ground.

    Needless to say, I prepared everything to a "T", and the night ran fairly smoothly.  The only big mistake I made was to be expected and that was one of color matching.  Who would have thought that foundation color matching would be the toughest part of my job.  I can develop a DNA profile from completely invisible prints, but I cannot for the life of me match a foundation.  I can make it through an entire Insanity work-out, but I am unable to find the correct color for a face.  The night before my first solo session, PDub and I spent about 30 minutes in the bathroom matching each other's faces to the correct foundation color.  PDub loves my new job!  Last night, out of the two people I pampered, I was 50% successful in sending them home looking like they weren't wearing a mask.  One girl was very, very white, but no worries, I didn't send her home without letting her know that we should darken her color. I sold some product, made more bookings, and received some referrals...A successful night in my list of firsts!  Pink Cadillac (Barbie car as she shall be called thus forth), here I come.....matching face or not!

Falling into Autumn

    The calendar may not declare it, but to me, fall has arrived on our doorstep.  And yes, I am inviting him in!  I have recently planted colorful mums on our terrace and opened up the windows to allow the crisp, cool breeze flow through our tiny apartment.  In addition to purchasing the mums, I also spent a little money on an autumn-scented candle, a bag of orchard apples, and ingredients for a hot bowl of chili.  There's nothing like snuggling on the couch, watching football, and eating a spicy bowl of chili with a cold glass of apple cider.  This is what fall is all about for me.

Just need to add some pumpkins!

You know it's fall when you see mums on the NYC subway.

Schnuggling.

    Although most people flee from the cold weather to warmer climates, I am looking forward to experiencing the four, distinct seasons again.  It has been three years since I have watched the leaves change at one time, trudged through a foot of snow, and emerged from the bitter cold to see the earth come back to life with lilies and tulips.  I missed these moments in Texas and am looking forward to cherishing them this round.  Plus, I now have PDub and Maya to share these memories with.

Fall foliage on the campus of Butler University....how I miss this!

There's no autumn without bonfires, s'mores, ghost stories, and weenies!

Some of my favorite memories happened in the fall....our engagement.

Autumn ignites static electricity!