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R. Linda:
Being it be me lunch hour and I be stuck at me desk munching on an excellent Ruben (I may say it be quite the sanny), I will give details of me wedded bliss of a state.
Tonya and I decided after an awful showdown with Tinkerbelle, that we should stop beating around the bush and stop doing the dirty and clean the laundry (that being an Irish saying).
You see one rainy night (and when isn't it raining up here? It feels like I never left Newry), there was this rapping upon our quaint cottage door, and there in the light from the outside I peered . . . no one. I flicked the lights and went back to the den. As I picked up the remote and Ton made the smart comment, "No one at the door?" the rap came again, this time a wee bit harder and a wee bit more impatient. Once again, I got meself up and threw on the outside lights, and this time I opened the door full way instead of peering through the wee glass at the top. And what was out there? Why yes indeed, it was the wee faery Tink flown all the way up from Boston on her broomstick.
To say I was pleased was not the way I felt. To say I was slightly if not near to annoyed as all hell, would be closer to me feelings. She was looking up at me with those squinty Cyndi Lauper eyes, the pink and green hair dripping the dye down her pale face, and without a word I gestured her grandly into the warmth of me abode.
Now everyone knew I lived with Tonya, and to think otherwise would be a miscalculation. However, in the world of one Tinkerbelle I suppose Tonya did not exist. For as soon as I slammed the door shut, Tink turned to me and said, "So Gabriel, when were ya gonna invite me up, huh? I decided to brave the elements and visit YOU."
Charming. I was far from charmed and could think of nothing particularly brilliant to say back. Tink seeing this continued.
"Gabe, do ya think I'd come all the way out here in the middle of nowhere for my health? I came up here because I miss you guys and I want to ask a favour."
At that moment Tonya's curiosity had got the best of her and she caught that last bit of one-sided conversation. Later she told me how she was thinking, poor wee little Tink missing US. She stopped short however, when Tink said, "Oh Gabe I wanna move in with YOU. Please, please, say please, I could cook and clean the house, do the wash, oh pull-ese?"
Tonya turned on her heel and gave me a wicked grin and a finger shaking which in Tonyaese means, "Go get her tiger, she's all yours, hahaha."
Since Ton disappeared (cowardly thing to do to me), I took the wee faery into the kitchen, started to make tea to warm her up (not that she needed much warming), and proceeded to explain that I didn't need a deranged housekeeper, I naturally didn't come out and say deranged, but you get the drift of me convey. To me surprise she shot up, all four feet of her, and gesturing wildly gave me a lecture on how much she "loves" yours truly, at which time Missie Tonya was on her way into the kitchen through the swinging door behind Tink, and without missing a beat, she was out the other side her hand flying to her mouth to cover her amusement. This left me once again alone with the loved stared Tink, and I was anything but amused.
Gently, I tried to let Tink down off her inflated concept of me. It took me four frecking hours, but I somehow did, or so I thought. All the time I be wondering where Tonya was off to. I needed help and me backup was nowhere to be found.
Tink made no move to get up, no move to leave and we sat in uncomfortable silence across the table from each other, her twisting and elastic from her hair between her fingers and me studying the teacup. Finally, Tonya came in wearing a coat like she'd been outside. She took the hood down, smiled at us both and said, "Argiebelle, what a pleasant surprise."
I be thinking surprise at 1 a.m. maybe, pleasant, no I don't think it be that. Ton shed her coat where Tink can't see there are no raindrops dripping off, and I suggest a cuppa and as Tonya sat, Tink burst into tears.
"Gabe, what have you done?" Tonya demanded moving around the back of Tink's chair to place her hands on Tink's sob racked shoulders in mock comfort and proceeded to make faces at me over the top of Tink's crying head. I was stunned into stuttering.
I tell you, help like that, who needs rescuing? I'd like to say it was no more than ten minutes more of this we spent in trying to get it into Tink's wee brain that we were a couple, and yours truly was off the market, but it was not. It took 6 hours of this and I finally ended up driving her back to Beantown on me way to work! She said nothing the entire trip down and meself was praying I'd hit no traffic where I'd be crawling along in bumper to bumper, with the whimpering Tinkerbelle. I did marvel she had the funds to hire a taxi all the way up to me wooded abode though.
When I got to work I had a talk with me friend Harold and it was then I decided to propose to Miss Tonya and that would fix it for me, no more Tinkerbelle arrivals on me doorstep, and freedom to enter the UK chat room as a married man so the ladies would leave me alone. I did, I went home and me best plans became Tonya's best plans. All I asked was, would she be me wife and she answered, "Yes, when?"
WHEN? How about in eleven years? I didn't get to get me thoughts in order that she wasn't ringing up her family and telling them we were engaged and before she was off we had a wedding date. Me head was hurting from the sheer magnitude of speed with which she had an A and B list of family she wanted to invite. Then the flower arrangements and the cake and the dress, and oh would I wear a kilt and no, I said I wasn't a Scot, and then I was given a book with Irishmen dressed in kilts and told we had them before the Scots along with the bagpipes and be a sport would I. NO, I didn't want to be a sport, I didn't want a kilt and I didn't want to get married NEXT WEEK!
You women know that if a man doesn't give a ring, he isn't going to. What do you do? You find a way to get him to give you one anyway. You also know that when he does, that's as far as he's going for a long time, so what do you do to remedy that? You set a date without asking him and start planning and act excited so he'll feel like a right heel trying to escape.
Once me head stopped spinning I decided she was right. We'd do the deed and be better for it. Only problem was when I informed me family across the pond, I found I was engaged in a battle, not a happy occasion. They were not for it, no way, no how, not this lifetime. Not because Ton is of mixed race (half black half Lebanese), but because she is not an Irish Catholic girl. When I heard this I told her and she rang me mam up and told that her roots were in South Carolina, that her mother's side were once slaves on an O'Malley (yes, she be quick thinking), and that Irish blood flowed in her very veins because of some unholy breeding that went on between her black great great grandmother and the O'Malley, master of the plantation. Furthermore, the O'Malley side was Catholic and Southern Baptist was practically the same thing (no it isn't). Well, after much hemming and hawing (a Tonyaism), we got the go-ahead from me branch of the family and being exhausted of all of it, we dispensed with the wedding window dressing and put a small gathering of our friends and her family (mine will meet her when we go over next March), and elope sort of, before anyone changed their mind, namely me.
I needed a best man and Mr. Weasil was campaigning for the position, but found the date conflicted with his holiday to Alaska, and Harold was sent to a conference in New York, so I thought another Irishman would bolster me resolve to get hitched. I emailed me journalist friend Wolfie and told him what was up and he mailed me back with congrats. I thought why not? I emailed him again and explained me problem and he said he'd be honoured to stand up for me and so me fate was sealed.
I ended up with a rented kilt (I was shamefaced to wear it, but it was what she wanted so I made Wolfie wear one too, even if he has better legs than me), and Miss Tonya was looking 'purdy' in a cream coloured satin shift dress, Alison was her maid of honour and no, we did not invite Tink. That would be like rubbing her nose in it and I thought it kinder to not invite her. I think we had about twenty-five people (mostly Ton's family), it was a private wedding in Boston at a friend of mine's house off the common, then we went to the Copley for dinner, and a wee bit of dancing.
I will say for a small affair it was magical, and I think quick as it was, it was better than planning some big shindig. This way we were with close friends, and a wee bit of family that counted, and Ton's happy and Tink isn't, but I never gave that I was interested in Tink or had any romantic intentions. Tink was told of the wedding and we got a card from her and as it happened with me trying to cheer her, I told her of me cousin Sean and the paper plates thinking it would make her laugh, but no, that sparked some creative thinking on Tink's part, and she perked up and sparked an interest in the conquest of another unsuspecting O'Sullivan.
I will add that Wolife was not a good choice for a best man, he was much too good looking and me thunder was pretty much a dull bang when he walked into the house in that kilt. The "Who is THAT?" flew out of every female mouth in the house, young and old alike. You could tell he was full of the devil and had rather a good time watching the women turn themselves inside out for his attention. He didn't encourage them, not a one, they were looking to see if he was wearing a wedding ring and when a few attempted past that, he was very polite and brought the subject of his children up, and that ended that. As Tonya would say, he's well trained, well behaved. I suppose that means I too shall be housebroken soon.
Gabe
Copyright © 2005 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Being it be me lunch hour and I be stuck at me desk munching on an excellent Ruben (I may say it be quite the sanny), I will give details of me wedded bliss of a state.
Tonya and I decided after an awful showdown with Tinkerbelle, that we should stop beating around the bush and stop doing the dirty and clean the laundry (that being an Irish saying).
You see one rainy night (and when isn't it raining up here? It feels like I never left Newry), there was this rapping upon our quaint cottage door, and there in the light from the outside I peered . . . no one. I flicked the lights and went back to the den. As I picked up the remote and Ton made the smart comment, "No one at the door?" the rap came again, this time a wee bit harder and a wee bit more impatient. Once again, I got meself up and threw on the outside lights, and this time I opened the door full way instead of peering through the wee glass at the top. And what was out there? Why yes indeed, it was the wee faery Tink flown all the way up from Boston on her broomstick.
To say I was pleased was not the way I felt. To say I was slightly if not near to annoyed as all hell, would be closer to me feelings. She was looking up at me with those squinty Cyndi Lauper eyes, the pink and green hair dripping the dye down her pale face, and without a word I gestured her grandly into the warmth of me abode.
Now everyone knew I lived with Tonya, and to think otherwise would be a miscalculation. However, in the world of one Tinkerbelle I suppose Tonya did not exist. For as soon as I slammed the door shut, Tink turned to me and said, "So Gabriel, when were ya gonna invite me up, huh? I decided to brave the elements and visit YOU."
Charming. I was far from charmed and could think of nothing particularly brilliant to say back. Tink seeing this continued.
"Gabe, do ya think I'd come all the way out here in the middle of nowhere for my health? I came up here because I miss you guys and I want to ask a favour."
At that moment Tonya's curiosity had got the best of her and she caught that last bit of one-sided conversation. Later she told me how she was thinking, poor wee little Tink missing US. She stopped short however, when Tink said, "Oh Gabe I wanna move in with YOU. Please, please, say please, I could cook and clean the house, do the wash, oh pull-ese?"
Tonya turned on her heel and gave me a wicked grin and a finger shaking which in Tonyaese means, "Go get her tiger, she's all yours, hahaha."
Since Ton disappeared (cowardly thing to do to me), I took the wee faery into the kitchen, started to make tea to warm her up (not that she needed much warming), and proceeded to explain that I didn't need a deranged housekeeper, I naturally didn't come out and say deranged, but you get the drift of me convey. To me surprise she shot up, all four feet of her, and gesturing wildly gave me a lecture on how much she "loves" yours truly, at which time Missie Tonya was on her way into the kitchen through the swinging door behind Tink, and without missing a beat, she was out the other side her hand flying to her mouth to cover her amusement. This left me once again alone with the loved stared Tink, and I was anything but amused.
Gently, I tried to let Tink down off her inflated concept of me. It took me four frecking hours, but I somehow did, or so I thought. All the time I be wondering where Tonya was off to. I needed help and me backup was nowhere to be found.
Tink made no move to get up, no move to leave and we sat in uncomfortable silence across the table from each other, her twisting and elastic from her hair between her fingers and me studying the teacup. Finally, Tonya came in wearing a coat like she'd been outside. She took the hood down, smiled at us both and said, "Argiebelle, what a pleasant surprise."
I be thinking surprise at 1 a.m. maybe, pleasant, no I don't think it be that. Ton shed her coat where Tink can't see there are no raindrops dripping off, and I suggest a cuppa and as Tonya sat, Tink burst into tears.
"Gabe, what have you done?" Tonya demanded moving around the back of Tink's chair to place her hands on Tink's sob racked shoulders in mock comfort and proceeded to make faces at me over the top of Tink's crying head. I was stunned into stuttering.
I tell you, help like that, who needs rescuing? I'd like to say it was no more than ten minutes more of this we spent in trying to get it into Tink's wee brain that we were a couple, and yours truly was off the market, but it was not. It took 6 hours of this and I finally ended up driving her back to Beantown on me way to work! She said nothing the entire trip down and meself was praying I'd hit no traffic where I'd be crawling along in bumper to bumper, with the whimpering Tinkerbelle. I did marvel she had the funds to hire a taxi all the way up to me wooded abode though.
When I got to work I had a talk with me friend Harold and it was then I decided to propose to Miss Tonya and that would fix it for me, no more Tinkerbelle arrivals on me doorstep, and freedom to enter the UK chat room as a married man so the ladies would leave me alone. I did, I went home and me best plans became Tonya's best plans. All I asked was, would she be me wife and she answered, "Yes, when?"
WHEN? How about in eleven years? I didn't get to get me thoughts in order that she wasn't ringing up her family and telling them we were engaged and before she was off we had a wedding date. Me head was hurting from the sheer magnitude of speed with which she had an A and B list of family she wanted to invite. Then the flower arrangements and the cake and the dress, and oh would I wear a kilt and no, I said I wasn't a Scot, and then I was given a book with Irishmen dressed in kilts and told we had them before the Scots along with the bagpipes and be a sport would I. NO, I didn't want to be a sport, I didn't want a kilt and I didn't want to get married NEXT WEEK!
You women know that if a man doesn't give a ring, he isn't going to. What do you do? You find a way to get him to give you one anyway. You also know that when he does, that's as far as he's going for a long time, so what do you do to remedy that? You set a date without asking him and start planning and act excited so he'll feel like a right heel trying to escape.
Once me head stopped spinning I decided she was right. We'd do the deed and be better for it. Only problem was when I informed me family across the pond, I found I was engaged in a battle, not a happy occasion. They were not for it, no way, no how, not this lifetime. Not because Ton is of mixed race (half black half Lebanese), but because she is not an Irish Catholic girl. When I heard this I told her and she rang me mam up and told that her roots were in South Carolina, that her mother's side were once slaves on an O'Malley (yes, she be quick thinking), and that Irish blood flowed in her very veins because of some unholy breeding that went on between her black great great grandmother and the O'Malley, master of the plantation. Furthermore, the O'Malley side was Catholic and Southern Baptist was practically the same thing (no it isn't). Well, after much hemming and hawing (a Tonyaism), we got the go-ahead from me branch of the family and being exhausted of all of it, we dispensed with the wedding window dressing and put a small gathering of our friends and her family (mine will meet her when we go over next March), and elope sort of, before anyone changed their mind, namely me.
I needed a best man and Mr. Weasil was campaigning for the position, but found the date conflicted with his holiday to Alaska, and Harold was sent to a conference in New York, so I thought another Irishman would bolster me resolve to get hitched. I emailed me journalist friend Wolfie and told him what was up and he mailed me back with congrats. I thought why not? I emailed him again and explained me problem and he said he'd be honoured to stand up for me and so me fate was sealed.
I ended up with a rented kilt (I was shamefaced to wear it, but it was what she wanted so I made Wolfie wear one too, even if he has better legs than me), and Miss Tonya was looking 'purdy' in a cream coloured satin shift dress, Alison was her maid of honour and no, we did not invite Tink. That would be like rubbing her nose in it and I thought it kinder to not invite her. I think we had about twenty-five people (mostly Ton's family), it was a private wedding in Boston at a friend of mine's house off the common, then we went to the Copley for dinner, and a wee bit of dancing.
I will say for a small affair it was magical, and I think quick as it was, it was better than planning some big shindig. This way we were with close friends, and a wee bit of family that counted, and Ton's happy and Tink isn't, but I never gave that I was interested in Tink or had any romantic intentions. Tink was told of the wedding and we got a card from her and as it happened with me trying to cheer her, I told her of me cousin Sean and the paper plates thinking it would make her laugh, but no, that sparked some creative thinking on Tink's part, and she perked up and sparked an interest in the conquest of another unsuspecting O'Sullivan.
I will add that Wolife was not a good choice for a best man, he was much too good looking and me thunder was pretty much a dull bang when he walked into the house in that kilt. The "Who is THAT?" flew out of every female mouth in the house, young and old alike. You could tell he was full of the devil and had rather a good time watching the women turn themselves inside out for his attention. He didn't encourage them, not a one, they were looking to see if he was wearing a wedding ring and when a few attempted past that, he was very polite and brought the subject of his children up, and that ended that. As Tonya would say, he's well trained, well behaved. I suppose that means I too shall be housebroken soon.
Gabe
Copyright © 2005 All rights reserved
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