tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41040815945763770652024-03-18T11:54:22.820-04:00The Linda Letters by Gabriel O'SullivanLetters are an art form. They are newsy, full of good cheer (usually), and are written to inform. What follows are letters written to me "cyber-pal" Linda. A friendship I made in me off hours. I think like most of me letters, you'll find them informative, witty and filled with the best ingredient of all -- BLARNEY. So without further ado, and as someone said, contained herewith is a fabulous collection of trivia.Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.comBlogger1111125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-33380942320868431022024-03-18T11:53:00.002-04:002024-03-18T11:53:37.123-04:00The Baileys Cheesecake Takes On The Looks Of An Angel Food Cake<p>18 March 2024</p><p>1011</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>Mam is getting old. Yes, indeed she be getting on there I guess. We were all helping out in the kitchen for our big holiday St. Patrick's Day when she took it upon herself to do most of the cooking. She says so we have "authentic" Irish cuisine. That's the excuse like I be some Irish American now who wasn't born on the old sod but here somewhere. I'd like to know when and how this happened. Me birth certificate does not reflect that at all. But SHE insists she be the only AUTHENTIC IRISH in the house. </p><p>I wasn't in the mood to argue with her as I had slipped Baileys in me coffee several times yesterday morning and wasn't in a combative mood. No, I was enjoying the silky taste of the Baileys spiked coffee and thinking how nice a nob of whipped cream would be on top, but then if I did that they'd all know what I was doing and why I was enjoying me cup of joe so much. </p><p>Anyway, Mam made her soda bread and I knew it was done right. I was slouched over the counter slurring me speech at her trying to sound as American as possible just to get a few digs in. She had set up the baked beans to soak the night before and I put those together since I be (according to her) an Irish Bostonian. Don't ask, I think it is because I work there and have been here longer than she, that she is nitpicking. Of course, I could be all wrong and it's age and memory. OR, more likely a cake disaster she was hiding. I dunno.</p><p>So with the beans in the pot, baking away in the oven and the coffee all gone, I left her to it. She was going to start a Baileys cheesecake and I thought what could go wrong, she's a baking whiz. Off I took meself to do some work in my home office while the clatter of pots and pans rang out in the not so far distance. </p><p>It was as I was finishing up my work and going on to me email she came in with the mixing bowl and a spatula. </p><p>"Ere' try dis and tell me wot ye tink," she said handing it all over.</p><p>Well, not being one to turn down the sweet leftovers, I dug in and begorrah me, it was fecking good! </p><p>"Is this a new recipe?" I asked licking the spatula and thinking about doing the same with the bowl.</p><p>"Ay, I found me gran's old recipe and decided to try it."</p><p>I had a laugh deep inside of me at that, she never cooks but her own recipes, so this was a first that her grandmother's recipe might be better than her own, and it was, I hate to admit. </p><p>"By da luke of yer face, I cun see yer likes it."</p><p>I gave her the bowl and spatula and shook my head enthusiastically.</p><p>"Ok den," she mumbled going out.</p><p>I sat there not getting email, but dreaming of that cheesecake, I know, I know, I can't help meself when it comes to food. I should be a fat man by now, but alas, still a long, tall, skinny guy. </p><p>As I finally removed myself from food dreams, I was reading an email when I heard in the not so far distance -- cursing. Cursing that would wake the devil it was. Then it got soft and stopped just as I was about to get up and go see what was going on in the kitchen. </p><p>With all quiet on the home front I finished up and an hour later wandered into the kitchen. There was no sign of a cheesecake anywhere. Uh oh. I looked in the refrigerator and notta. I looked on the counter, I even looked in the trash and could not locate el cheesecake. </p><p>Panicking because it was THAT good, I went to find her when she and I almost collided as I was going out of the kitchen and she was coming in. </p><p>"Where be the cheesecake?" I asked in amuck sweat.</p><p>"Uhhh . . . about dat," she said looking at the ceiling and rolling her eyes.</p><p>"Yeah? Yeah?" I prompted when someone needed to be more forthcoming.</p><p>"I poot it in da wrong pan. Dare, I said it."</p><p>"Whatyamean?" I was starting to lose it.</p><p>"Don't get yer knickers in a twist dare Gabriel, it's in da oven be where it be, but it's in an angel food cake pan. I furgot a springform pan iz da otter owan and used da wrong pan. It will be fine duncha worry none." </p><p>I turned the oven light on and there it was this beautiful golden cheesecake with a funnel in the middle and it looked fine, so I didn't panic anymore than I had already. </p><p>"Uh, how do you put the ganache over that?" I wondered out loud.</p><p>"Not to worry," she said shooing me out.</p><p>I left wondering how she could mistake an angel food pan for a springform. Even I know the difference and that's saying a lot. </p><p>Well, she fretted most of the day, whispering to Tonya she wasn't sure the cheesecake would not fall to pieces and maybe she should leave it in the pan, but then there is the ganache that goes over it, oh what to do, I tell ya! </p><p>No matter what my wife suggested, she was still worried. Finally, when I was out of sight the two of them got the cheesecake, acting like two leprechauns up to no good. As Tonya used a knife to un-wedge the cake from the pan, Mam got a platter, actually two platters. With great care (I was spying from the lounge), Tonya upended the cake onto the platter and it slid gently onto the plate. At this, they looked at each other with big smiles and clapped their hands quietly. Then with equal care, Tonya took the other platter and turned the cheesecake right side up. And there you have it, a cheesecake with a hole in the middle!</p><p>Because Mam was flustered she made her ganache a bit lumpy, but she poured it over the top anyway. There was a chocolate cookie crumb crust that held it together (miracles of miracles), so when I tasted the concoction I thought it had too much chocolate. I will mention that to her if she serves this again from the right pan, to not pour the ganache over the top, but spoon a bit over the top when a piece is cut. No, I haven't told her that yet. Her feelings are all too raw at the moment. She is still muttering to herself about it.</p><p>In total, the meal was a success. It was all delicious. Here take a gander as they say in New England.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkMMmkUyXq1QfsgGGz63GnZOuz8tBXOCGXnfKgdm6omsg1G_aHR29j_ZNKy7xgOHhiRfUENnuDNXRQdav4PZddjNU5I37dlgPI60TKs-7LOIGR0W9qQUZMirDdhlX6sEFBJmGrRKp73AcVKDhD2InBvBqmyGXadodQH-evW_klqCqe0vdbPyU0i_koKWsQ/s6748/MakingShakes2%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6748" data-original-width="5452" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkMMmkUyXq1QfsgGGz63GnZOuz8tBXOCGXnfKgdm6omsg1G_aHR29j_ZNKy7xgOHhiRfUENnuDNXRQdav4PZddjNU5I37dlgPI60TKs-7LOIGR0W9qQUZMirDdhlX6sEFBJmGrRKp73AcVKDhD2InBvBqmyGXadodQH-evW_klqCqe0vdbPyU0i_koKWsQ/w324-h400/MakingShakes2%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="324" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Making boozy Shamrock Shakes for the adults</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgCKlITv-oKGOUtIkTy9cYLl6qJFx1UdAjhhkEfylHZSx4PkJF1-9MPbO5xsORsxWWCPM_uISvFCidDvmojNR0sKzfzOjL8wNjUAN6DGYJOGSS-BJBHuYuAK3NzJrXLXwcwynhjF0RX0uKG9INe1oVTNMpcHJSNS9GF148JnmIhSsrgvZT2fWGEZbhMhmL/s6019/PotatoSoupMaking%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5433" data-original-width="6019" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgCKlITv-oKGOUtIkTy9cYLl6qJFx1UdAjhhkEfylHZSx4PkJF1-9MPbO5xsORsxWWCPM_uISvFCidDvmojNR0sKzfzOjL8wNjUAN6DGYJOGSS-BJBHuYuAK3NzJrXLXwcwynhjF0RX0uKG9INe1oVTNMpcHJSNS9GF148JnmIhSsrgvZT2fWGEZbhMhmL/w400-h361/PotatoSoupMaking%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Potato soup in the making, yum?</i></td></tr></tbody></table></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyKt5NVgzz6oO-1onZI7LU2wsCPgvjoBwLfQfU3a1fBA6sxE6xzA9_D0ht9gNGopPD_GhrtjPQ5mgPnPirYA3W-NUv7UV8HhleHcusdWnjigQLbhpm3SO9RfzWFxehkcED867EJP8qwtqlb-c7TvdThmkJZfziZ4kPvzSTLrLEFhKHjk0EiiSbtKz12epm/s8064/SodaBread%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8064" data-original-width="6048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyKt5NVgzz6oO-1onZI7LU2wsCPgvjoBwLfQfU3a1fBA6sxE6xzA9_D0ht9gNGopPD_GhrtjPQ5mgPnPirYA3W-NUv7UV8HhleHcusdWnjigQLbhpm3SO9RfzWFxehkcED867EJP8qwtqlb-c7TvdThmkJZfziZ4kPvzSTLrLEFhKHjk0EiiSbtKz12epm/w300-h400/SodaBread%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Mam's soda bread</i></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxBrAJJIT7teK_UxIGIq0dk2PAZjcGSZMqSnhdMq2MM6DgvNSmmjOlmkpP528J36QWLNdS7OLXCLD70_t1J8kOmG-wGiGc6b2xi6NUGJmg-P-c5-4uGq4Fafqe6Rlv1ZRsiTy1eQ49l64dNORwEV8KV1k-hWot2FD56untAkdAqVq2lNLXfBXU77PEvgK4/s6308/BakedBeans%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6308" data-original-width="2752" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxBrAJJIT7teK_UxIGIq0dk2PAZjcGSZMqSnhdMq2MM6DgvNSmmjOlmkpP528J36QWLNdS7OLXCLD70_t1J8kOmG-wGiGc6b2xi6NUGJmg-P-c5-4uGq4Fafqe6Rlv1ZRsiTy1eQ49l64dNORwEV8KV1k-hWot2FD56untAkdAqVq2lNLXfBXU77PEvgK4/w175-h400/BakedBeans%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="175" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Baked beans</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf2j_On2j3zLhvLG9janlvzMsOp1bcCnOaKU8C7S43HDS3dmhkb8-Ugf5-1MtEvZ7OAC8mx8B-NqUo4nHHpQJBBU3jAeac1s1EuofnJ6DlnpksRKuE2sgwYWng9ZqiKUVCpNCZe6R19rCQvxeLZFyfO_IW_4UWSwvBT6shtjmKWwYXltSlYGjRutvdpj6Q/s8064/Bangers&Mash%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8064" data-original-width="6048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf2j_On2j3zLhvLG9janlvzMsOp1bcCnOaKU8C7S43HDS3dmhkb8-Ugf5-1MtEvZ7OAC8mx8B-NqUo4nHHpQJBBU3jAeac1s1EuofnJ6DlnpksRKuE2sgwYWng9ZqiKUVCpNCZe6R19rCQvxeLZFyfO_IW_4UWSwvBT6shtjmKWwYXltSlYGjRutvdpj6Q/w300-h400/Bangers&Mash%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Bangers and mash<br /><br /></i></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZk3avi21H83-3tJWBvmKbj5qXD8HoXldOwj91Bn5zgqHV1DHug6eniLUql-_gJryfgxGsoacKZla5D_PH4dKtbhf_E6l5EeTsuBVaQxyFcRNecis217e-fAu6-248jFGgu6yBNSFthdEJ_roIjpRICNgs3onQVWDmvnYmd5TlhBHIB-ByixUXu9JlyzgJ/s8064/BaileysCheesecake-1%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8064" data-original-width="6048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZk3avi21H83-3tJWBvmKbj5qXD8HoXldOwj91Bn5zgqHV1DHug6eniLUql-_gJryfgxGsoacKZla5D_PH4dKtbhf_E6l5EeTsuBVaQxyFcRNecis217e-fAu6-248jFGgu6yBNSFthdEJ_roIjpRICNgs3onQVWDmvnYmd5TlhBHIB-ByixUXu9JlyzgJ/w300-h400/BaileysCheesecake-1%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>And there it is -- Baileys Cheesecake disaster BUT it tasted good</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Gabe</p><p><i style="background-color: #fff3db; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Copyright © 2024 All rights reserved</i></p><p><br /></p><br />Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-57348412229328154692024-03-03T15:54:00.007-05:002024-03-04T10:13:36.077-05:00An Irish American St. Patrick's Day <p> 03 March 2024</p><p>1110</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>It is almost THAT time again! Yes, when I can smell the potato soup bubbling on the stove, the baked beans in the oven, the Irish Stew getting savoury and me tastebuds are screaming, "Let's eat NOW!"</p><p>I can picture me sweet little apple-cheeked, grey-haired Mam kneading the soda bread, me wife busy with dessert a Bailey's Creme something if she doesn't drink it all first. The kiddos clambering about the forthcoming shamrock shakes and I am in dream heaven sipping what's good for me, a frothy Guinness stout. </p><p>Ah yes, St. Paddy's Day be a-comin' and I am all anticipation. And why? Well, could be the fact I was invited last night to an Irish American pre-St. Patrick's Day dinner and it was not as Irish as I had hoped. I was looking forward to all me favourites I was, the soda bread, the Jameson shots, the bangers and mash, Colman's hot mustard, a whiskey cake, foods like that. But that's not what I was served, no indeed it was not.</p><p>Here let me start you at the beginning. As I said I was all hot to get to the dinner that was buffet style in a heated barn turned into a Martha Stewart living space at a neighbour's. Now this neighbour has an Irish last name, O'Bannon and says his great-great-great grandfather and grandmother were from Ireland. Where in Erin they are from no clue, he just knows from Ancestry. com it says on certain documents the names of his grandparents and born where: Ireland!</p><p>So he has been in this country, well let me correct that, he, was born in this country and is third generation American. WITH an Irish last name. His only knowledge of the old sod is St. Patrick's Day and he thinks everyone on the island celebrates it. Not so as you know. Up north not so much. He is sure he's from the Republic somewhere and has never been to Ireland, but he's from there. His family is, he's from here. I don't correct him, I just listen to the inaccuracies and let it all go. </p><p>He thinks he can imitate me accent and oh my but he sounds like a Scotsman! I haven't the heart to tell him. So it was in the spirit of his Irish American heritage he decided to have a gathering of the clans. Yup, he called it that. I be sure the Goldsteins, the Browoski's, the Van Wycks, the Angelinos, and the Wongs are startled to know they are part of the Irish tribe. No more surprised than yours truly. </p><p>It poured last night it did. We were wet, cold and hungry by the time we arrived. It was a perilous drive too, through mud roads (not all are paved), dark woods (no street lights, this is New Hampshire), and hardly any street signs to guide you in the dark, but somehow we made it sliding into the barnyard and almost hitting the Angelinos as they slip-slided in the mud trying to get to the barn through the deluge. </p><p>Once inside and greeting everyone (we were the last to arrive, we always are fashionably late, not on purpose, but because the kiddos had a million questions as we were going out the door of what they could do and not do. The sillies know this is not necessary they live in the house and the rules haven't changed, but they get some bizarre joy at testing us, thus we are always late), I stood in front of the pot-bellied stove to warm up and was handed a shot of Jameson and that was divine. Good start I thought.</p><p>I wandered over to the chips and dip table and chatted away enjoying myself but me stomach was demanding more substantial fare. After a few more chips and sips we were all told dinner was on the table and to help ourselves. Oh boyo boy!</p><p>Off I flew and picked up a plate, the desired flatware, a napkin and then . . . and then . . . I looked at the offerings. A huge corned beef with lots of cabbage, French's yellow mustard, no Colman's, boiled potatoes and sourdough bread with Market Basket butter, no Kerrygold butter from the old sod, no it was the supermarket special and it was . . . gulp . . . unsalted. </p><p>"What's the matter Gloomy Gus?" Tonya elbowed me giggling at my reaction.</p><p>"You know what," I whispered.</p><p>"They have Shepherd's Pie on the other side," she whispered back.</p><p>Well, ok then, off I went slapping on my plate a piece of sourdough bread, the supermarket butter, and as I rounded the table I saw the luscious mashed potentates smattered over the Shepherd's Pie and I grabbed the ladle and as I tore into it, I smelled beef! Yes, beef, no lamb it was COTTAGE PIE! Foiled again I was. I can't count how many times I've ordered Shepherd's Pie in an Irish American restaurant and been served Cottage Pie. I was beside meself I was. </p><p>The Cottage Pie was filled with canned peas and carrots, not the real fresh peas and carrots I was used to. Thanks, Mam, you have spoiled me. Nothing fresh about this but I ate it. The seasoning was off but I rather expected that too. It tasted like hamburger with canned peas and carrots covered in mashed potatoes. Even the gravy was scant. </p><p>Americans complain UK and Irish food is boring. Well, when you cook it American style it is. The problem too, is those who go on holiday stay at American tourist traps where the food is prepared American style for the American palate. So in reality Irish Americans just don't know what they are missing unless they go off the beaten track and dine at an authentic Irish restaurant, catering to Irish citizens. </p><p>Oh one other thing, the beer. It wasn't Irish it was English, Newcastle Ale. I rest my case.</p><p>My face must have looked very sour when I was handed a bottle of that stuff because me wife came over smiling like a Cheshire Cat and muttered that it could be worse, the O'Bannon's could be serving Black and Tans. Yes, that would have done it. Gabriel then would have broken his silence and given the entire room a history lesson. But Gabriel, me, gave the Newcastle Ale to Morty Goldstein and got a shot of Jameson instead. Yes, the hard stuff R. Linda, I needed something stronger to dull the culinary pain of being subject to fake Irish food.</p><p>We have discussed this it's like Mexican food, you go to a Mexican restaurant thinking you are getting the best Mexico has to offer when it is a Mexican food chain prepared American style. I learned that lesson when I lived in California for that short time. I went to an authentic Mexican restaurant in Monterey and almost burned my throat, stomach and intestines out from the heat that was stuffed in an appetiser I can't remember the name of. Probably because I wanted to blur the experience, but I loved it. Then in Colorado after eating fake Mexican enchiladas in Estes Park, I found a real Mexican restaurant run by a Mexican family who brought each dish to the table with a warning on the heat of the peppers. Unlike the Monterey establishment that left me to burn alone without a glass of anything including water, the Colorado Springs restaurant served me a huge pitcher of water with lemons to cut the heat, and Sangria with coconut if I'd rather cut the peppers with alcohol -- they think all Irish are alcoholics. But at least liquid was on the table! And damn that food was good. Of course, I had weird dreams for six months after that's what spicy hot food does to me. </p><p>I said nothing to the O'Bannon's I pretended to enjoy the cuisine and for that, I was told they thought they'd do it again next year. I have a year to figure out an excuse. Oh and don't ask about dessert, we all brought chocolate chip cookies when asked to bring a dessert. The reason I didn't bring an Irish dessert is the same reason I didn't enjoy myself because the American palate likes junk food and to make a Bailey's cheesecake and be told it was too alcoholic would have been a waste of Jameson whiskey and well . . . I'd rather drink it.</p><p>Gabe</p><p><i style="background-color: #fff3db; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Copyright © 2024 All rights reserved</i></p><p><br /></p>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-14201921586985014522024-02-14T15:02:00.003-05:002024-03-03T15:54:02.930-05:00Valentine's Day Gift Twist<p>14 February 2024</p><p>1109</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>I came down this morning to dog poop everywhere. Not only that, BUT me Mam's new kitten decided that if the dog could poop anywhere it wanted, so could Mr. Kitten. I had six messes which when you add the cat, twelve in total to clean up. The dog's excuse was I went to bed early (I wasn't feeling well) and no one, and I mean no one in the abode thought to let el doggy out before they retired. Therefore, what was he to do? As for that cat, I have no clue what his excuse was, but it might have looked fun? </p><p>So that's how I started the day. Now I told you about the tulip crisis prior and I did mention it to Mam and showed her the proof in pictures. She told me to go back the week of Valentine's Day and check for fresh tulips, she was sure that was just a fluke. Righto!</p><p>No tulips but something more remarkable Christmas in February. See here:</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGistuUuWmbPIU6W3xZNbB4UbD3ZdULdbyOyFvrfgJRGletoTLHzFRaAAktIxaKP2ibdrm9TLBCpWW7IO5rGo_DAhg8nKnY6_yKFKDc5NoKd6vwXmKg7Fh2QzxapSAQKoAIhapfkhWM0ac0BYhNgs5eA0ehPMAmoNx6euey3M1epLbvhxdSLmheRoyuJtR/s8064/ChristmasInFeb%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8064" data-original-width="6048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGistuUuWmbPIU6W3xZNbB4UbD3ZdULdbyOyFvrfgJRGletoTLHzFRaAAktIxaKP2ibdrm9TLBCpWW7IO5rGo_DAhg8nKnY6_yKFKDc5NoKd6vwXmKg7Fh2QzxapSAQKoAIhapfkhWM0ac0BYhNgs5eA0ehPMAmoNx6euey3M1epLbvhxdSLmheRoyuJtR/w300-h400/ChristmasInFeb%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="300" /></a><br /><br /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Yes, Christmas cypress plant for Valentine's Day with an ornament to boot! And Red Bull to drown out the yelling when you present it to the Valentine girl</i><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></td></tr></tbody></table><div>OR:</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil0OhUHuLNDc4QIaPO7VhvKDpQSeefW_3HFh30NjaG6JZGyPA-gaAuqAsOMnfpOT8_TCv19C0tXKIVVNnKdNzcERduGbXADFdYOsNOC5RUrTjOCqV0OwiyO1IYyoq-L_rrDOBlXHSWYT1SzsmYg4K14l3dLtCMCUVLSYhazKk0MLe5Z0NaBKswOURacNL7/s8064/ChristmasInFeb2%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8064" data-original-width="6048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil0OhUHuLNDc4QIaPO7VhvKDpQSeefW_3HFh30NjaG6JZGyPA-gaAuqAsOMnfpOT8_TCv19C0tXKIVVNnKdNzcERduGbXADFdYOsNOC5RUrTjOCqV0OwiyO1IYyoq-L_rrDOBlXHSWYT1SzsmYg4K14l3dLtCMCUVLSYhazKk0MLe5Z0NaBKswOURacNL7/w300-h400/ChristmasInFeb2%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Christmas cypress with snowmen -- your choice! Balloon thrown in to dull the pain your ears will be experiencing upon presentation<br /><br /></i></td></tr></tbody></table>I was gobsmacked I was. So I bought her one with a snowman and we'll see how big that goes over. <div><br /></div><div>Needing all the luck to stay alive tonight, </div><div><br /></div><div>Gabe</div><div><i style="background-color: #fff3db; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Copyright © 2024 All rights reserved</i><br /><div><br /></div></div>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-12303615098040914542024-02-04T10:11:00.004-05:002024-03-04T10:18:59.175-05:00Valentine Tulips...a little dried out and way over their due date<p>04 February 2024</p><p>1108</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>Well, I guess it's never too late to buy tulips. Yes, indeed. I was at the chemist to pick up some Valentine's Day chocolates and usually they run out if you don't buy early, and well one-stop shopping and all that appeals to this Irishman. So I ran in and got three small Valentine's chocolate hearts for the kiddos (small because chocolate wires them up and well . . . you get the picture), and two big ones for the wife and the Mam. I usually buy tulips for me Mam so she doesn't feel left out and the tulips sell fast so I get them early. I went to the front of the store where the tulips usually reside and what did I find? THIS: </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcySYnaWG_h0_q8EcFqK5yTz5kR2NRFaxCxPZdTWLKrenVWafDTrkoaRZtR9CeALirXvV9vQIT40U3PDMutVZs9IHWFPdSGHwbZFK_BtqzNTva7xukHm4NO9UL_JdTKilw9YjDw6bx4iO7eTUv4rAFSiwnkLGQMfAnhw3JB3x43Qd3JarSvD2OPX37mCww/s8064/DeadTulips%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6048" data-original-width="8064" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcySYnaWG_h0_q8EcFqK5yTz5kR2NRFaxCxPZdTWLKrenVWafDTrkoaRZtR9CeALirXvV9vQIT40U3PDMutVZs9IHWFPdSGHwbZFK_BtqzNTva7xukHm4NO9UL_JdTKilw9YjDw6bx4iO7eTUv4rAFSiwnkLGQMfAnhw3JB3x43Qd3JarSvD2OPX37mCww/w400-h300/DeadTulips%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Long Life Tulips from 2018</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p>Uhhh . . . Seriously? I had me pick of red or yellow. There were five nicely dried-out and dead plants to choose from for the price of $9.99 each (what a bargain, right?). The roots had water in the slot below which gave me pause. A couple of petals were dropped on the counter making me wonder how it was the others hadn't dropped all the petals after that amount of time. More importantly, why were they there in the first place? It is 2024, and these certainly looked like they were leftover from what the sign said 2018. Long life? I don't think so.</p><p>As you may guess I didn't buy one. Though I was tempted, I wasn't sure Mam would get the joke, instead, she might be chasing me around the house threatening to dump them on my head, so I refrained (hard as that was). I ended up buying none. She has a tulip garden and plants her Valentine's Day, Mother's Day and Easter tulips every year in the ever-expanding tulip garden. She isn't much for cut flowers, so I had been counting on early tulips. </p><p>The florist is where I get roses for the wife, and I do that on THE day, her favourite, Valentine's Day. I will have to see if they have any planted tulips (usually they have the cut ones). If I am unable to find tulips with the bulbs I don't know what I will do. Perhaps a tulip IOU. Yes, that's the ticket. </p><p>Anyway, I thought I'd share another mishap in the great state of New Hampshire. I tell ya, from dumpster diving to shooting your son's girlfriend, to locking the door from the police (and you only the babysitter), to dead tulips, it's never dull up here in snowman land. </p><p>Gabe</p><p><i style="background-color: #fff3db; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Copyright © 2024 All rights reserved</i></p><p><br /></p>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-20058513618743768372024-01-30T12:12:00.003-05:002024-01-31T10:01:52.775-05:00Trapped In Trash OR Accidental Dumpster Diving<p>30 January 2024</p><p>1107</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>How is this possible I ask you? Just the other day, a woman fell into a trash bin and subsequently when the trash truck arrived, she and the trash she was surrounded with, were unceremoniously dumped and then compacted 4 times before the trash truck driver heard screaming and looked at the camera that showed him a woman in the trash. I know, only in New Hampshire right?</p><p>She said she fell into the dumpster while dumping her trash. Now, I've seen this happen on America's Funniest Videos (AFV) and know it can happen. Usually, the person can get out, but this was a dumpster, not a large heavy-duty plastic trash bin. I would surmise she didn't have the strength to lift herself out once she was in. The covers of dumpsters can be heavy especially if there is wet snow on top, and I am assuming this may have been the reason she couldn't get out, but I am surmising here. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFCufQ2cJK3c51cvJez8d59yowuZAL0O60jO5Dbj7ysAkd4FH98ucgqbpP34qs3kYBu-Nl33TynhkEp6BSPUvTxeNjrOqhnt-91S0bb14ME7ZVCB6gZm4nos2aoUox3FiYWi8pI1Zf_qydIfGLpYj4Whyphenhyphenhfi9revE_nNiQtTL5VsvY9Z07d6TfgLO4qU1D/s975/Dumpster.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="513" data-original-width="975" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFCufQ2cJK3c51cvJez8d59yowuZAL0O60jO5Dbj7ysAkd4FH98ucgqbpP34qs3kYBu-Nl33TynhkEp6BSPUvTxeNjrOqhnt-91S0bb14ME7ZVCB6gZm4nos2aoUox3FiYWi8pI1Zf_qydIfGLpYj4Whyphenhyphenhfi9revE_nNiQtTL5VsvY9Z07d6TfgLO4qU1D/w400-h210/Dumpster.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The offending dumpster</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p>If the side is open and not locked (I don't see locks anywhere) how is it she couldn't get out? Unless she's short like your diminutive self maybe she couldn't reach the opening on the side? Or, was she making merry and in her cups so maybe she was incapacitated in that way? I don't know the why of it, but that side window, well is it that hard to slip out of? Or, like me wee one suggested, she was just keeping warm. OR, like the middle child suggested she was looking for a meal? Uh-huh.</p><p>The driver had the presence of mind to call 911 when he saw through a camera located inside the truck the screaming victim. </p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi34M_-BVnElpktiWHQr9qZr5WjeLBdKQM9u5gOQ4Vlw5Z7gg-Sdi7hhxv3HWZBhZGCJwsV4rGfWHSVgDUTgfS9bsI0Ob_850Hh5VxveRm6hU9dhCkf7YaG5Cr0rUJqm9onx7r8oEjKot_Bbf6ujzbE9VdXlIbpHUDcOQ_ZhmfyoAs7iStO6bS3SJNhr-9Q/s810/Compacting.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="505" data-original-width="810" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi34M_-BVnElpktiWHQr9qZr5WjeLBdKQM9u5gOQ4Vlw5Z7gg-Sdi7hhxv3HWZBhZGCJwsV4rGfWHSVgDUTgfS9bsI0Ob_850Hh5VxveRm6hU9dhCkf7YaG5Cr0rUJqm9onx7r8oEjKot_Bbf6ujzbE9VdXlIbpHUDcOQ_ZhmfyoAs7iStO6bS3SJNhr-9Q/w400-h250/Compacting.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Slam Dunk!<br /><br /></i></td></tr></tbody></table>Can you imagine being trapped in that smelly trash then being raised high in the air, to tumble out with all that stinky stuff into more of it below? That be what nightmares are made from. Forget the compacting adding insult to injury.<p></p><p>First responders arrived to extricate the woman from the garbage. They had to bring in a crane to get her out because obviously she was injured.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUOJzMhZzabm7H4MzhxiCBs9EZNli6k5RpremRGD8Cx_9RWSkD-0zcCgqy-svwSpiKVR16sKwBCAPKkUYhGlv2Vglyt62tI7VVkNaNa7wydwTkaqwn3z107f9zAAOPAptA4KkwC7c7fSsrX7dYIdKdbqCML5uflkjjTJ4hIdfN5qCiNEtjR9SnffTkuiC7/s1170/Crane.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="484" data-original-width="1170" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUOJzMhZzabm7H4MzhxiCBs9EZNli6k5RpremRGD8Cx_9RWSkD-0zcCgqy-svwSpiKVR16sKwBCAPKkUYhGlv2Vglyt62tI7VVkNaNa7wydwTkaqwn3z107f9zAAOPAptA4KkwC7c7fSsrX7dYIdKdbqCML5uflkjjTJ4hIdfN5qCiNEtjR9SnffTkuiC7/w400-h165/Crane.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The ambulance was pulled up in front of the trash lorry</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p>A basket gurney on the crane had to be lowered into the trash to retrieve her. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbU01vOzNzB0MOWVnML7kPtTRaCuoqoCsvgwJGiM5yCMqHJuupQPxcovu1UhgQPpzzpeyL49vrJGbjnLd5_uHOhyphenhyphenpxXAPuxu-RRdxHjQAFki239AishMBdCwjIaPCKPDLoMu3x8pQJTiYdvoE-nwrxXixPQn_K8fJsYY65Q3nkOp8r8nEdxwhoSMPIRQHs/s816/Victim.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="430" data-original-width="816" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbU01vOzNzB0MOWVnML7kPtTRaCuoqoCsvgwJGiM5yCMqHJuupQPxcovu1UhgQPpzzpeyL49vrJGbjnLd5_uHOhyphenhyphenpxXAPuxu-RRdxHjQAFki239AishMBdCwjIaPCKPDLoMu3x8pQJTiYdvoE-nwrxXixPQn_K8fJsYY65Q3nkOp8r8nEdxwhoSMPIRQHs/w400-h211/Victim.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>How embarrassing is this?</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p>The woman was taken to hospital where it was said she was treated for minor injuries and would be fine. Let's hope so, but think of the nightmares she'll have. OR, as the middle child suggested, think of the story she can tell her grandchildren on a snowy night in front of the fire. O K then.</p><p>Gabe</p><p><i style="background-color: #fff3db; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Copyright © 2024 All rights reserved</i></p>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-15474396644500902292024-01-25T10:50:00.003-05:002024-01-30T12:20:15.138-05:00Christmas Mischief <p>25 January 2024</p><p>1106</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>Christmas has been over, decorations put away, the credit card is recuperating, and all would seem right with the new year. However, there was one thing we couldn't find. We have (like many families) an elf on a shelf. Our elf is handmade by me sainted, little apple-cheeked, grey-haired Mam. It was just last week that Tonya remembered she hadn't seen the elf to be put up until next year's Christmas spying season. She asked me covertly if I had put him up. I did not put him up and yes, now that I thought about it, I hadn't seen him.</p><p>She asked Mam on the side if she had seen the elf. No, no she had not come to think about it. Hum. Well, we went to the attic and looked to make sure he wasn't up there because maybe Mam had a memory lapse (she is getting on) and perhaps he was up there and she just didn't remember. Nothing turned up that wasn't supposed to be there, but Mr. Elf On A Shelf was decidedly not among the ornaments.</p><p>This morning there was a delayed opening at school, so remembering the missing elf I asked each one separately if they had seen him. The eldest and the middle child know he is a decoration but the youngest thinks he really has a direct line to Santa. I knew the middle child, Guido had been throwing the elfster around (Elfster- Guido's name for him) so I was suspicious he had him hidden somewhere just to spring him on the wee one at Easter. Guid is a jokester if ever there was one. Well, no, Guido said, he hadn't seen him but thought the wee one was the last to be seen with the elfster.</p><p>I ran into O'Hare on his way to college (yes, can you believe it! The young kiddo graduated high school in January and has started college, so proud of him), and he said he didn't know anything about the elf's whereabouts.</p><p>That left the wee one, who denied any knowledge of the elf but had lots of ideas where he had gone. Like he returned with Santa on Christmas Eve to the North Pole, or, he got thrown out with the wrapping paper (oh, dread the thought), or he got tired of being a spy for Santa and retired. Un-huh.</p><p>Well, just an hour ago, Mam was getting a few canning jars to make some jam, when what did she come across? This:</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6bayaDeee30wGvfflusf_b74h2WG27GW5x8mCmHDKXp2m4kVcIG2vcvIykGCJ3kXhRWFYlzeVGb2nDLXxuWga86Nry-zaJ231lo8o8NXxN_zRzEH1mR63ihqCLhOKu60qGjz702lH4StoP12rNdBI-4Y84zrIKoIm8yeUj9hGZeAn_Fb7P1Z9ksscFLfM/s8064/ElfInAJar%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright2024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8064" data-original-width="6048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6bayaDeee30wGvfflusf_b74h2WG27GW5x8mCmHDKXp2m4kVcIG2vcvIykGCJ3kXhRWFYlzeVGb2nDLXxuWga86Nry-zaJ231lo8o8NXxN_zRzEH1mR63ihqCLhOKu60qGjz702lH4StoP12rNdBI-4Y84zrIKoIm8yeUj9hGZeAn_Fb7P1Z9ksscFLfM/w300-h400/ElfInAJar%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright2024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Yes, the youngest jammed the elfster in a Mason Jar</i></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>Yes, way back on the deep dark shelves of the back pantry was this poor crushed elfster. The wee one was guilty of elfacide! The logic was if he's sealed in a jar he can't spy and blab to Santa what mischief the wee one is up to around the holidays. <div><br /></div><div>I tell ya, kiddos have ingenious methods to their madness. I'd never have thought to do such a thing. No, really I wouldn't. Well, maybe I would.<br /><div><div><p>Gabe</p><p><i style="background-color: #fff3db; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Copyright © 2024 All rights reserved</i></p></div></div></div>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-50425748525259431842024-01-20T09:56:00.002-05:002024-01-20T09:56:51.097-05:00Something Gross Made Me Think What Kind Of World Do We Live In<p>20 January 2024</p><p>1105</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>There are times you have not a thought in your head, but whatever that inner voice is babbling on about is all nonsense and you can feel the time is wasted with these self-conversations. That was my condition as I waited for me Mam to get out of her medical appointment. I had gone with her because she was a wee bit stressed. She needed a shoulder and I wanted to be it for her. She was stressed that the appointment would be bad news, and it turned out not to be. </p><p>While I was sitting in the car waiting (the waiting room is usually packed so I opted out) I smelt rather than saw this man walk by me. He had a funny gait like his posterior hurt. I took a double-take because of the amount of faecal matter he was sporting on his behind. I could only think he was a homeless person who had no use for a loo or worse was denied one. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0qWbLksniUYz5rnPQlAOI9scgDQcdDZqSh8zKw6FhhyphenhyphenZd2JdNeKwR7-uq9dcw9QwRVHnyvU9eo-aBGtyzJWHQg7nB0Es34H4ErvuZ8yNwQuYYRU51DSYHsAc9YMOce7SAR6GWKsgYuPvhLTNiLp7lnbq2HLsbW3QJDZYUvQpQDJWvHTo4OWZXJnqOKNc2/s5895/DirtyPants%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright2023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5609" data-original-width="5895" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0qWbLksniUYz5rnPQlAOI9scgDQcdDZqSh8zKw6FhhyphenhyphenZd2JdNeKwR7-uq9dcw9QwRVHnyvU9eo-aBGtyzJWHQg7nB0Es34H4ErvuZ8yNwQuYYRU51DSYHsAc9YMOce7SAR6GWKsgYuPvhLTNiLp7lnbq2HLsbW3QJDZYUvQpQDJWvHTo4OWZXJnqOKNc2/w400-h380/DirtyPants%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright2023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>I don't know his circumstances and if he doesn't mind his being down and out, or if he is in dire straits because of it. I do know this is a worldwide problem and I wish instead of funding war machines, we could help those of us who can't help themselves. Don't get me wrong I understand the funding of war in other places to keep the world safe, but is it as important as our own living on the edge of society in a hopeless mishmash of circumstances they can't control? </p><p>I went home that day and instead of contributing to a candidate, I contributed to our local soup kitchen to at least keep the food coming for those who have none. This is a problem in many countries, not just this one. I do hope we get a candidate that gives a damn about us and not themself. I already know who I am voting for in the primary. I just hope that the official candidate is the one I have high hopes for. That person is smart, experienced and likeable. Their ideas for a new way forward are solid and they are steady in their determination to improve our lot. </p><p>Anyway, I hadn't seen any homeless persons while out and about until Mam's appointment. There was another who was sitting on a bedspread by the side of the town library. I was stopped for the light and a policeman made his way over to the fellow. He had a bag from MacDonald's and a drink. These he handed to the man with what looked like a few words of encouragement, and I was wowed. What a solid gesture for a fellow man. Now I have seen a few more homeless on me way to the appointment and back, and I can imagine how tough it is. I had to stop to let one man with a wash bucket holding what I assume were his worldly belongs, cross. I wonder now if I had run up to that man if he would have accepted my help, or he might not have been receptive. So the best I can do is hope someone else helps him and others like him but I can do my part in any way I can. So my donation is a start. </p><p>Gabe</p><p><i style="background-color: #fff3db; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Copyright © 2024 All rights reserved</i></p>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-84635973393481162432024-01-17T09:52:00.011-05:002024-01-17T10:10:47.113-05:00Did I Just Lose Time?<p> 17 January 2024</p><p>1104</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>Not to dwell on the birthday, BUT, the day we were going to celebrate it with family and friends, the wife and the Mam wanted me out of the house so they could "decorate." Gees, you'd think I was a mere child of 10 or perhaps getting on up to one of those milestone birthdays (which is NEXT year). I did remind them of me turning a certain age and they said they knew, but would I go to the grocery store and get the food for the week?</p><p>It was a sunny blue-bird day and I got meself to the grocery store 45 minutes away. I had the list Mam gave me and was feeling pretty darn good I had gotten everything on it. I estimate it took me 40 minutes to complete the task. I had been at the back of the store and as I wheeled my cart to the checkout I noticed through the big windows at the front, that it was dark outside, like 6 o'clock dark. I stopped in my tracks and looked at my watch but I wasn't wearing it. Then I remembered me phone was in the car so I had no clue what time it really was!</p><p>Wow, everyone was coming at 5 and I must be very, very late! I got in line and started putting the food items on the conveyor belt and as I looked out the giant windows I realised there was swirling snow and gusting winds pummeling the windows. It almost looked like a developing tornado. </p><p>But in the back of my mind and with a cold chill running up my spine, I was quite sure I had lost time. </p><p>As I was being checked out I asked the woman bagging what time it was. I had no clue how long I had been in the store, nor when I blacked out and when I did, what I had been doing.</p><p>"It is six minutes after 3," she said looking at her watch. </p><p>"No, can't be. Look how dark it is out there," I gestured toward the windows.</p><p>"Yes, we have snow squalls until 5," she informed me.</p><p>Suddenly every phone in the building set off an alarm, which was a surreal experience. Not having one I looked at the phone of the person next to me in line. There was an alert (a little late) informing everyone that there was dangerous weather occurring until 5:30 to 6:00 p.m. Well no shite Sherlock, I could see it happening outside at that very minute!</p><p>"But it is so dark," I muttered to myself totally in awe that day had become night in such a short time. Then I realised I had to drive a long distance in that, out there!</p><p>Well, I got to the automatic doors to go out to my car when the doors flew open and a gust of snow and wind hit me and my groceries full on. I had to put some muscle behind me and push to get out the door and into the cold swirling and very dark night.</p><p>I could just make out headlights trying to leave the parking spaces and somehow I found me own vehicle and went to open the backdoor when the cart started to meander off on its own in the wind and the dark. I caught it and wedged it between the door and backseat throwing the bagged groceries inside. </p><p>I slammed the door shut and was going to put the cart in the cart retrieval but I couldn't see where that was. While I was standing at the end of my car the cart took off across the parking lot and slammed into the bummer of a truck parked across from me. I checked the bummer it looked ok but the cart was dented in on its front from the wind force. Having no time for this I saw the retrieval area and started for that but the wind got the best of the cart and it took off out of my hands hitting cars as it bumped its way into oblivion.</p><p>I was sure I was in a tornado now, thinking in the darkness and the whirling snow I would be carried off never to be seen again or celebrate another birthday. I somehow came upon me car and strained to open the front door. Once I got it to give, it flew open hitting the number pole I was parked next to. Oh crap! Did that dent the door? I was going to look when the door decided to start closing so I jumped out of the way not to get crushed. I couldn't see any dent in the dark, so I went to open the door again, but it wouldn't open!</p><p>Had I triggered the inertia alarm? I put my foot on the back door and yanked on the front door handle with all I had in me and nothing. I went around to the front passenger side and I got that to open, but it opened with a force that made me slip on the ice that was forming on the pavement. I literally crawled inside when the door decided to slam shut, nearly severing my foot from me ankle.</p><p>I caught a look at myself in the rearview mirror and me hair was sticking out at all angles, me nose hairs were frozen (such a strange sensation), and I was shaking with cold or maybe fright, I didn't know!</p><p>With the roaring wind and snow pummelling the car I climbed over the centre console and into the driver's seat. I started the ignition and the headlamps came on but I couldn't see a freaking thing. I turned it off and decided to sit it out.</p><p>Instead of the weather improving, it got worse and I could feel the whole car shaking. The glass bottles in the grocery bags were rattling and that wasn't the only thing rattled. My brain was not quite knowing what to do. Should I run back inside or stay put? Well, that decision was made for me when several empty shopping carts rammed into my vehicle. I thought it was going to be one hell of a dented, expensive repair, but what could I do? If I got out of the car to try to fend the carts off I could easily be run over by them and killed. Yup, the mind works in strange ways when one is in panic mode.</p><p>Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and I saw a few cars slowly finding the exit so I started my car and somehow got into line. Now we're talking I said to myself. I could easily follow the red lights in front of me and being mindful of sudden stops make it home in one dented piece.</p><p>This worked well until we came to the stop sign. When it was my turn I could not see for the life of me if anyone was coming. I finally chanced it and made it to the line of red lights waiting for the traffic light to change where we would all be on my road home. I pulled up, and as soon as the light went to green everyone in front of me started off slowly, me and fifteen other brave souls making up the rear.</p><p>Now I live in a forest and I have maybe six miles of highway before entering the larger scope of the forest to get home. Do know there are no street lights in most of New Hampshire, and the forest has none. So my whole hope was gauged by those red lights in front of me. However, when we got up to the last road leading away from the forest road, those red lights all turned off leaving Moi as the lead car to what was now twenty cars behind me all creeping along at 5 MPH in swirling snow, heavy battering wind and yes, DARKNESS. </p><p>It was darker than dark now, the roads were snow-covered so it was hard to see where the road ended and the ice-covered winding river that bordered the road began. I did the best I could for about two miles when I decided to get one of the cars or all of the cars behind me to pass me so I could follow them. I put my blinker on and slowly crept to what I hoped was the shoulder of the road and not the river. I stopped and looked in the rearview to see everyone behind me had put their blinker on and had pulled over!</p><p>I threw my hands in the air in perplexed despair as to what to do now. I had enough food to stay put for a week. I even had visions of the other drivers getting out of their vehicles and surrounding my car, demanding food if we weren't going any further. I know crazy, but that's what this bizarre situation was doing to my head.</p><p>"FECK!!!" I shouted to no one and put the damned car in gear and flipped on my left blinker easing slowly out with everyone else behind me doing the same. I tell ya! Slowly I inched, up the hills and down the dales with maybe five cars turning off, but the majority were on their way to my house. Or, so it seemed in my crazed mind.</p><p>The uphill was rough, me sliding and skidding here and there, they all doing the same, but the hope was if I went off the road they'd stop and pull me out . . . yeah who am I kidding, they would keep on going and leave me. Sigh.</p><p>Somehow I made it to the top of my driveway and as I pulled in, the freaking sun came out of nowhere like I had reached the Emerald City. There was no one behind me as I slip-slided my way down the long driveway, barely avoiding a header into the pond, and miraculously to the house. I had made it. </p><p>I unloaded all the groceries, oblivious to any decorations or what time it really was now. I wanted only to crawl into a ball and take a nap. I had had it. Day DONE and DONE and DONE again. </p><p>It wasn't until the next day I went and looked at my car. It had nary a dent, just some minor paint damage, so that was good. I have no clue what I lived through, but that was one time too many. </p><p>Anyway, temps went up melting snow and ice sufficiently that the party took place and all the weirdness was shoved to the back of my mind. I haven't done the shopping since and it be a cold day in hell before I do. Happy Birthday to me from the Fate called WHITEOUT. Hopefully, she won't be back anytime soon.</p><p>Gabe</p><p><i style="background-color: #fff3db; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Copyright © 2024 All rights reserved</i></p><p><br /></p>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-26854665938826029602024-01-16T10:25:00.000-05:002024-01-16T10:25:08.444-05:00The Non-Stop Birthday <p> 16 January 2024</p><p>1103</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>With snow storms and rain storms turning to ice storms, it's been a bit of a tumble around me house. On me birthday the ladies of the house were far behind on birthday festivities for yours truly because of the weather. I knew all was in a jumble and told them it was fine, we should celebrate me day on another day, but no, they wouldn't hear of it, but I persisted so on THE day, Guido had a wrestling match and I said that would be gift enough to go to the smelly gym and watch Guid flex his muscles and take down an opponent. And that's what happened. Afterwards, we went to MacDonald's, Tonya's treat. We ordered and the lady told us to pull up at the first window. We did. There was no one there. We pulled up to the second window where we were given our food and drink order almost immediately with have a nice day shouted us and a hand wave to keep on moving!</p><p>"Weren't we supposed to pay for all this?" I asked the wife who looked totally confused. </p><p>"It's yer birthday!" Mam said being handed a cheeseburger. "It's free!"</p><p>"But they don't know it's my birthday," I said, shrugging my shoulders.</p><p>"Well, it's too late now, you'll just confound them more you go in and say "Hey, here's some bucks to pay for our food." They won't miss it anyway and the lady told you to drive off." Guido said with a mouthful of Big Mac.</p><p>I wasn't driving and I couldn't get them to go back they were chowing down all the way home, they were "tired" and reassuring me if I drove down the next day and offered to pay they'd think I was a nutter.</p><p>What to do? I figured next time I would pay it forward and that would make me feel better since I wasn't in control of the situation . . . or driving the car. And, no one was listening to me anyway.</p><p>On day 2 of the birthday we celebrated with pizza and cake, a very lovely gushy cake I might add. It is nowhere to be seen because it was consumed completely the very next day . . . burp! I was told what everyone was getting me in the way of prezzies since it seemed everyone forgot a birthday was upon them.</p><p>On Day 3 friends and family except for Sean came over. They bought more pizza (so tired of pizza I can't tell you) and beer with a chocolate cake. Yes, the combination takes some getting used to but we ate it all. </p><p>On Day 4 Sean was ready to celebrate the birthday, but he suggested we go out for breakfast to a rather nice establishment three towns away. We did, we trouped back out into the winter chill and had an enjoyable time as we were regaled with Sean's misadventures which made me thank the good Lord I am not Sean. </p><p>Day 5, yes it keeps going, Tonya had made birthday luncheon reservations for us at our favourite little bistro in the woods and she had taken a personal day. Well, guess what? The kiddos are home and it is snowing! So that's off until Thursday now.</p><p>I was gifted with another certificate for the same place by Mam and we have decided to put that off until next month. Thus, the birthday will start up again for hopefully the last time next month. </p><p>Stay tuned.</p><p>Gabe</p><p><i style="background-color: #fff3db; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Copyright © 2024 All rights reserved</i></p>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-35481750508086716612024-01-11T11:42:00.004-05:002024-01-11T11:42:53.789-05:00Four Seasons In One Day<p>11 January 2024</p><p>1102</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>The day before yesterday we were under a winter storm warning that sounded like the fury of hell was about to be unleashed. Extremely strong winds with freezing temperatures, 16 to 18" of snow possible, flooding from overly saturated ground, followed by torrential rain that could leave 4" to 6" of water that could turn to ice over the snow, and the next day sunshine with warmer temps. </p><p>Our weatherman usually gives us the Denver, Colorado weather so we never really know if what he says is true for us. This time it was. Yes, he had a hit after how many years he's been doing the New Hampshire weather which is really the Denver weather? This once!</p><p>We heard that there was torrential rain to our south with tornados brewing and water spouts between the southeastern states and the midwestern ones, with snow and ice mixture to the northwest of us. All of it coming our way and turning into snow by the time it gets to us. </p><p>Like every weather watch or warning, the locals left for the local Market Bucket to stock up because we always get power outages and that's the only given ever. The hardware stores put out shovels with all types of handles for those who felt they needed to stock up. Snowblowers were in the larger hardware box stores and the large freight stores had ploughs for your vehicle if you so needed one of those. Oh yes, everyone skurries around like Chicken Little and then nothing comes of it and all these implements of help are returned to the stores the next day . . . until the next snow alarm and it is Groundhog Day all over again. </p><p>Now I have shovels with the usual straight handles, and one each for the three kiddos. I don't have a snowblower because I have a gravel walk and driveway, but I do have a plough, a snow plough on a beat-up old car that is only good for ploughing. The driveway is like two football fields long, and if I don't plough it, we go nowhere. </p><p>I was all set (as I usually am) and half believing the weather predicted would come, but hoping not. Well, we started off with hazy sunshine that turned to ominous dark clouds for most of the morning, which was broken up by big fat snowflakes that the locals tell me are a sign that nothing much will accumulate. That didn't come true because those flakes suddenly disappeared and a steady stream of hail started hitting the roof and decks and this stuff was being bandied about by the winds which were gaining strength. That didn't last long because then we got steady snow all day into the night (accumulation 14") with freezing temps, winds gaining strength (35 to 40 mph and in some cases 60), and if you looked out the window it was a white out until it got dark and then still you could see nothing of what was happening outside.</p><p>The electricity started to flicker, I had the presence of mind to get wood in for the fireplace and started that in case the power went out, though I have a generator so that wasn't a big concern. The winds howled like banshees around the house the entire night and let up some the next morning, but then it clouded back up and the wind returned with a vengeance, snow was falling again. I got one lovely next morning photo and twenty minutes later, we were back in the mix. Around 3 a.m. the whistling winds stopped and a pounding was heard on the decks. The rain had come in, and the temps had gone up, but the in-between mess of a mix of snow and rain made ICE! The rain took over the snow and it poured like a tsunami had washed over the land and you could hear the ice crashing off the roof like bombs going off. I tell ya it was not a night of restful sleep.</p><p>The next morning the sun was out, the ground was flooded, the snow was melting, and the temperature was getting warm! It was the craziest thing to live through. We had all four seasons at once, including a rainbow in January with snow on the ground. Unheard of. Are we done now? </p><p>Apparently not, more weather coming in Friday into Saturday and mid-week more weather just as horrible and diverse as what we just witnessed. But the locals say it isn't global warming, nah, it's just the way it is. OK then. </p><p>Here are some pics for you:</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5B065-2VvDit4HiAOtivS54aGErcFhN_fbZacPX1LMF70MYmlf6oRKxAsJHwNoeHmHkIsVoGkJbLywEkgl4eyGl_4uBmo4PLJR7vPNKZh2_NkUvd-e8kOOBAXTokZ-RF09U3AZ-nnbupM3Z0AIKkrwFyZPhAtaY_Gp1tH9fgQRJNM3WPCbH291xjhA_Ju/s8064/SnowJan%207%202024%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6048" data-original-width="8064" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5B065-2VvDit4HiAOtivS54aGErcFhN_fbZacPX1LMF70MYmlf6oRKxAsJHwNoeHmHkIsVoGkJbLywEkgl4eyGl_4uBmo4PLJR7vPNKZh2_NkUvd-e8kOOBAXTokZ-RF09U3AZ-nnbupM3Z0AIKkrwFyZPhAtaY_Gp1tH9fgQRJNM3WPCbH291xjhA_Ju/w400-h300/SnowJan%207%202024%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Snow beginning <br /><br /></i></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNU0erbFXaUKzvZ0vmFrPU1zWGG2DyMWyvSFZNSZXvYUxYBel1MKSEQeO2qIptMUEpEH81rBHdSiDvp8ilipGYvs9Bz19NuqQic1PsgiQd0EBpr4zs4Qi4WzNTVjafHWYvLCAyE3RckSw2g9yWdL-_5voFSzmGNl8vrJXbemtYkub8k8dXnkVy0nPblR6n/s8064/AfterSnow-1%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6048" data-original-width="8064" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNU0erbFXaUKzvZ0vmFrPU1zWGG2DyMWyvSFZNSZXvYUxYBel1MKSEQeO2qIptMUEpEH81rBHdSiDvp8ilipGYvs9Bz19NuqQic1PsgiQd0EBpr4zs4Qi4WzNTVjafHWYvLCAyE3RckSw2g9yWdL-_5voFSzmGNl8vrJXbemtYkub8k8dXnkVy0nPblR6n/w400-h300/AfterSnow-1%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The lull between snow and rain</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE2xbBO6n0NlGwZb_9PSc72ODhcNCS6ykHmQtMScBbatz5DM3ZqNLaFhGJjtLftGFYyNjuNTYTlMVZn1exxMusn2yfEEikuZ6cwz_iEVx8qVZBvWBjjJo-2xLujpQ9Xzr5f-Ga6XkX6dr3AgTSzxPCkXvRZzfsXVrQwsqRsKp5s0pvzbJ0WyzWqs5j34fl/s8064/BirthdayRainbow%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6048" data-original-width="8064" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE2xbBO6n0NlGwZb_9PSc72ODhcNCS6ykHmQtMScBbatz5DM3ZqNLaFhGJjtLftGFYyNjuNTYTlMVZn1exxMusn2yfEEikuZ6cwz_iEVx8qVZBvWBjjJo-2xLujpQ9Xzr5f-Ga6XkX6dr3AgTSzxPCkXvRZzfsXVrQwsqRsKp5s0pvzbJ0WyzWqs5j34fl/w400-h300/BirthdayRainbow%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>After the rain, a nice sheet of ice but a RAINBOW</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>Gabe</div><div><i style="background-color: #fff3db; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Copyright © 2024 All rights reserved</i></div><div><br /></div>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-61357128761723101662024-01-07T12:53:00.007-05:002024-01-08T13:31:51.714-05:00First Snow Fall And The Lazy Man's Way Of Dealing With It<p> 07 January 2024</p><p>1101</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>Today is the first snowstorm of 2024. Yes, the white stuff is piling up! I be sure that makes your day.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6T3-H_I3w5EDajlJtXiwImA82k5M_9nxvaMB85trm8fKF6yvqUsVxtn7moIQGngVZIVAu5HXqI64XsTc74Lhz1HFyzRGKirD7ORX0y9peYUIVpt2LebHUd2vBe8i6b_eNHcSoqN93yYJ72SdGeglDYIxF8YLoerFBxkyEYCiSZ_obbRMupa38H7VW61m8/s7989/2024-1stSnow%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3958" data-original-width="7989" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6T3-H_I3w5EDajlJtXiwImA82k5M_9nxvaMB85trm8fKF6yvqUsVxtn7moIQGngVZIVAu5HXqI64XsTc74Lhz1HFyzRGKirD7ORX0y9peYUIVpt2LebHUd2vBe8i6b_eNHcSoqN93yYJ72SdGeglDYIxF8YLoerFBxkyEYCiSZ_obbRMupa38H7VW61m8/w640-h318/2024-1stSnow%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202024%20Irish%20Memories.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Looking at the pond slowly disappearing</i></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>Well, leading up to the storm everyone rushed to the local market to stock up on food. I noticed some of the new folks asking why everyone was doing that and no one answered them. I guess it is a rite of passage for the newbies to find out on their own how it works up here. You get a foot of snow or more and the power goes out. And it stays out. Yup, for weeks sometimes. If you don't own a full-house generator or any kind of generator, you are literally left out in the cold. Everything closes down, no markets, no school, no work, just shovelling to keep warm.<p></p><p>We learned the hard way. We hadn't moved up here more than a month we had a blizzard that shut everything down for three weeks! No fast food restaurants were open either because they had no electricity, and the food all went bad. We had one working fireplace at the time and we learned to cook like early settlers over an open fire. By the time power was restored, we were pretty darn good at old-fashioned survival. </p><p>This led us to get the other fireplaces cleaned, lined and in working order in case it happened again, and it did! We were stocked up on cooking utensils and easy food prep but we weren't really that warm. We had a portable kerosene unit that I used in the old shed outside when I was working on the occasional odd job I needed to fix the house or whatever project. The shed was quite large so this thing heated it very well, only when you started it up, it was like a jet engine where the flames jetted out of the back of it and it burned like a fire. It kept the shed warm, so I bought it in. Yes, I did much to the horror of the wife. </p><p>It looked like this only with flames shooting out the glowing end:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHoAdAmvlKC1470DpIZ_tk4nE6TKfoHl2mozV6Hshd3IQwK62jNNsTp_QC4Y_9cP3l64Kb3PEvKmq7a2SQlxOWc0zWxRJqNW9LHUEEzMLWk2fW4OhJ8QRbp3bUCMJDfYcWiiobkIfPMhDcqncsjd7lXxuhfLQU2E4aK8RKub0rsySA_Cax0v7ZFCeV4xe5/s286/IMG_6314.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="286" data-original-width="239" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHoAdAmvlKC1470DpIZ_tk4nE6TKfoHl2mozV6Hshd3IQwK62jNNsTp_QC4Y_9cP3l64Kb3PEvKmq7a2SQlxOWc0zWxRJqNW9LHUEEzMLWk2fW4OhJ8QRbp3bUCMJDfYcWiiobkIfPMhDcqncsjd7lXxuhfLQU2E4aK8RKub0rsySA_Cax0v7ZFCeV4xe5/w267-h320/IMG_6314.jpg" width="267" /></a></div><p>I know it was dangerous and it wasn't this model or make of the one pictured, but similar, and I have it no more to show you, but you get the idea. </p><p>Well, I ran this baby day and night for a week but we were warm on the lower level. I don't think it was meant for a house but we were COLD! The smell of kerosene was in the house for months and the only way we got it out was by replacing everything and in the spring leaving the windows wide open. Tonya went through a slew of oil and scent diffusers, candles, and anything that overpowered the smell of kerosene.</p><p>After the flack I got for my creativity in keeping us warm, I went out and bought a portable generator that I had an electrician hook up to me electrical board. Yes, we went out and bought one of these:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK_PQ1NZdVWVbLZffuEHtViuPzQpzbVWphIa6bo-BgO_x2mOa8kMHKNRwTCCctKp9D7o9gM8zCtgerE9xng1gCy5qmP-CZ1K3BEPKB_rYcs0H8oDYFWHit5EbCOZwXqCdYhkSFACp9FHA8GWzQa_MOZkpVjbESwFqKtOIRisalLII1is83VBXpiIQRXK9R/s1042/PortableGenerator.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1011" data-original-width="1042" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK_PQ1NZdVWVbLZffuEHtViuPzQpzbVWphIa6bo-BgO_x2mOa8kMHKNRwTCCctKp9D7o9gM8zCtgerE9xng1gCy5qmP-CZ1K3BEPKB_rYcs0H8oDYFWHit5EbCOZwXqCdYhkSFACp9FHA8GWzQa_MOZkpVjbESwFqKtOIRisalLII1is83VBXpiIQRXK9R/s320/PortableGenerator.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>Again, not the make and model because I don't have mine anymore, but you get the idea. This you had to pull a cord like you do with a lawnmower to get it to start up and you had to fill it with petrol to get it to go. This is made for outside because the fumes can kill you and many lazy people have died finding this out. It is a pain in the posterior to have to get dressed in heavy jackets and boots to go outside in the middle of a raging snowstorm to refill it, thus the lazy man's bringing it inside hoping the power is restored before the fumes get you. But it works like a gem if you use it properly, except for having to get up in the middle of the night to fill it back up.</p><p>Well, a few storms that had me trekking out in a blizzard did it for yours truly. It didn't take another snowstorm for us to go out and buy a full house generator, a unit that sits outside the house permanently and is hooked up to your electricity and depending on how big and powerful the generator is, will give you use of your water, stove and oven, all the lights in your house including the Internet (if it is up and running), and will even keep your outdoor lights on (this annoyed our neighbours who didn't have a big unit). </p><p>So, I bought us one of these:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPt4CkUKUWCwYx5fmhbsTc8MXrdjOu0j7FEjaq2nPu3mL4oCUCjR_tlMnc-3h3yBImNwClFWFA7LvQ4R13xlw0rnmtEVS-dmvmhR3RDpMQpoMaHrUff3YjvPT4qG5T46tEwYjwhlki3g2_e0x8bO_dFEWqZtFTrLHPB6wGx7KT6iyIoE3cUnma5AusNEDi/s456/FullHouseGen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="256" data-original-width="456" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPt4CkUKUWCwYx5fmhbsTc8MXrdjOu0j7FEjaq2nPu3mL4oCUCjR_tlMnc-3h3yBImNwClFWFA7LvQ4R13xlw0rnmtEVS-dmvmhR3RDpMQpoMaHrUff3YjvPT4qG5T46tEwYjwhlki3g2_e0x8bO_dFEWqZtFTrLHPB6wGx7KT6iyIoE3cUnma5AusNEDi/s320/FullHouseGen.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>We bought a Quietsource which is now Generac and what we have at our new home (yes, I learned from the first house, that having one of these was essential). And this unit did EVERYTHING. The fuel came from gas lines that we had already (we heated with gas), and lines were put out to the unit and I didn't have to get up in the middle of the night to pour fuel in it. It just ran by itself and the best was that if the power went out, 30 seconds later the generator kicked on and it was like the power never went out. Yes, it annoyed the neighbours who had all gone out and bought the portable model and had only some electrical hooked up like heat and maybe water. Not us, we had the whole house including the outdoor lights. We were hated I be sure by the entire road. </p><p>The power might go out and our house was lit like a Christmas tree as it usually was and no one was sure if they had power or not until they walked in the door and the light switch didn't work. I was told I was cursed out a lot by me neighbours, but hey, I be a lazy guy naturally and I'd rather spend the money to not have to work so hard if I can help it. That, and I do not like cold weather. Never have, never will. I saved me pennies I did and it was for a good cause . . . ME!</p><p>I know this looks like a commercial for generators, but be assured it is not, it is me sharing a little bit of unknown life in Northern New England. If anyone is thinking of moving up this way, make sure you include a generator because it gets really cold, really fast when the power goes out and it goes out often because of snow, high winds, tree branches, and flooding. The other thing, rush to the market to stock up because they too don't all have generators and they will close down and then not only cold but hunger sets in. </p><p>Yup, frontier life isn't the life for me!</p><p>Gabe</p><p><i style="background-color: #fff3db; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Copyright © 2024 All rights reserved</i></p><br />Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-1425483629416203572024-01-01T15:04:00.004-05:002024-01-07T13:05:39.344-05:00And then there is Steve <p>01 January 2024</p><p>1100</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>Recently, I had lunch at an upscale restaurant in Portsmouth, N.H. I arrived early and decided to have a drink while I waited. I had just been served when one of my lunch buddies (my work associate, Desmond) arrived telling me the other mate would be his usual "fashionably late" self. The late guy was always late and wasn't exactly the type you'd find at an upscale restaurant, but it was the company's treat to all three of us for a job well done in 2023. We had covered a story on a local lawman who had a shady past and was still at his shady ways. The cameraman (Mr. Late), had been an asset to our Bernstein and Woodward reporting so he was included in the company Thank You luncheon. By the time we were being asked if we cared for a second cocktail, our lunch mate was making his way to us, and Desmond leaned towards me and said, "His idea of culture is an undershirt with sleeves, so this get-up we should be thankful for." </p><p>Yes, indeed, there was the hairy man in khakis, a Hawaiian shirt with a tweed sports jacket and some kind of Scottish cap of clashing tartan, forget about the socks that were apparently mismatched as one could plainly see by the Birkenstocks he was sporting. Frankly, I was surprised the restaurant let him in dressed like that. Did I wish I was blind just then, you betcha!</p><p>For purposes of protecting the not-so-innocent, I'll refer to him as Steve. Steve noticed our perusal of his clothing choice and informed us he was in a hurry to meet us and it could have been he showed up in his Jim-jams, so as not to make fun (yes, he's British we two are Irish transplants).</p><p>Trying hard to ignore the outfit, we were looking at the menu when Steve, muttered, "I don't like livin' in a country where everything rides on what's in one's pocketbook!"</p><p>"Get over yourself, you don't live here, and the company's paying," Des muttered back and then turned to me and said, "Where were we before the monkey came in?"</p><p>"We were talking about building a cage." I elbowed him and nodded at Steve.</p><p>"I beg your pardon?" Steve said from behind the large menu. Steve is temporarily in the States working on an internship, and then back he goes to London. He is a hard person, no other way to put it.</p><p>It was then the waiter came to take our order. I went first, Des next and then Steve with a million menu questions holding the orders up. </p><p>"Excuse me, could we get two double scotches because I think we will be here awhile," Des said to the waiter who was nearing exasperation answering Steve's insane questions. Looking relieved the man took our menus leaving Steve studying his. </p><p>"Steve, can you at least pretend to be a human being?" Des asked the hairy young gent.</p><p>"Well . . . Desmond here's the rub, all these bits and bobs are alien to me and when I order I wanna know what I'm chewing on."</p><p>I must have looked angry because Des said to me, "I'd be wiping off my fingerprints from around his neck and rehearsing my 911 call by the look of you." And turning to Steve he said, "And if I was you I'd lay down . . . and play dead."</p><p>"The long and short of it is I don't like American food unless it is fried chicken and burgers," Steve said like that was a brilliant excuse for his menu behaviour. "This stuff here makes my brain all sticky. This is enough to make me crack up."</p><p>"First off what brain, and secondly, a nervous breakdown and you are not compatible. It is you who give us a nervous breakdown." Des sneered at him. "Pull yourself together and order something when the waiter comes back or don't eat!"</p><p>"Aren't you full of Irish sunshine." Steve sneered back. </p><p>The waiter returned with the scotches and finally, Steve had no more questions and ordered. But not like a sane person would order from a rather extensive menu, no not he, he ordered at least four appetisers and two entrees. </p><p>We sat there looking at him which made him nervous, I think.</p><p>"My brain was kind of hazy so I just got em' all to try."</p><p>Des can come out with some silly funny stuff when you don't expect it.</p><p>"I knew a guy who saw the ghost of his brother before he died. Was run over by a gritter lorry."</p><p>"No, I ain't got a brother," Steve retorted recognising the old joke at his expense.</p><p>"Yes, you do, you told me his name is Kenny." Des looked perplexed.</p><p>Steve sighed. </p><p>"I'm sure this will come up at the insanity hearing," Des said to me. "So what did you do with him? Where's the body at?"</p><p>"Really?" Steve mumbled, "Clock off Des."</p><p>An aside here, Steve tried to take credit for OUR story. Like his photos told it all, and while they were appropriate to our reporting, in no way did he run the story down. That he was with us for lunch, was an add-on. He wasn't supposed to be at the lunch, instead, he put up such a fuss that our boss Cruella told him he was included, but she would not be attending. I knew why she wasn't, she couldn't stand Steve's bombastic personality nor his crude manners. So the animosity was there as it had been throughout the whole process of our reporting. Des even had a private chat with Cruella about Steve's intimidating her into getting the credit he did not deserve, but alas, it did nothing to stall our argument we didn't want him at the table. This put Des in a snarky mood towards Steve. The dislike was apparent and there was nothing I could do about but, but I did understand the way of it.</p><p>Some kind of egg dish came for Steve as an appetiser. It had sauces on a silver server which was put next to Desmond's elbow. </p><p>"Desmond, pass me the Washington Shire sauce." No please, just do it sort of speak.</p><p>"Hm, the what?" Desmond was confused.</p><p>"The Westminster Shore sauce," Steve said over-salting his egg dish.</p><p>"Are you having a stroke?" Desmond asked plainly concerned.</p><p>"The Warcasteer Shiner sauce," Steve said irritation setting in.</p><p>"The Worcestershire sauce, Des please," I said to clarify the confusion. Since when does an Englishman not be able to pronounce Worcestershire?</p><p>Desmond was clearly frustrated as he handed it over to Steve. We watched as half the bottle was poured over the exotic eggs to where they began to float. It WAS an appetising dish but now it was rather a horrific dish of soggy piped yolks and egg white that looked like floating eyeballs. I won't gross you out with lunch, Steve made everything on his side of the table look like it came from outer space making it somewhat hard to concentrate on our own dishes. Even the waiter looked aghast.</p><p>I so wanted to take pictures but it was bad enough that Des and Steve were in confrontational mode that I didn't want to add to it. You'll have to take my word for it, lunch on Steve's side of the tabletop was a nightmare of condiments, sauces, and relishes, all where none were needed. </p><p>"What are you like?" Desmond finally said, throwing down his napkin.</p><p>When Steve left to use the men's rooms Des and I opted to skip dessert and get coffee somewhere without Steve. Our appetites were ruined as it was and any more time spent watching Steve deconstruct a dessert was not in our stomach's best interest. </p><p>He was fine with our leaving and continued to harass the waiter over dessert. </p><p>This was my last day from work for 2023 and not how I had envisioned spending it, especially since it was a 'thank you' luncheon. I did have the happiest Christmas I've had in years though. Everyone was in good cheer, no Dragon Lady visiting, just Tonya, the kiddos and Mam. Sean even is gone for the holidays, trying his best to learn to ski like a pro with his new girlfriend Mandy. She's quite the outdoor gal and as long as she keeps him on these trips we all approve of this new found love of his, that or his visa expires and it's time to go! Happy New Year R. Linda!</p><p>Gabe</p><p><i style="background-color: #fff3db; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Copyright © 2024 All rights reserved</i></p><div><br /></div>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-47383071025780884062023-12-31T11:08:00.005-05:002024-01-01T12:53:44.435-05:00The Eye, Local News People, And Starbucks Olive Oil<p>31 December 2023</p><p>1099</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>It's been a while since I wrote, I know, I know. I have not been back across the pond to take a hike across England through forest and fauna just to eat seaweed in some craggy seaside town, as seems to be the trend when it isn't 48C, and everyone is thinking they have been transported to the tropics and are at a loss to what to do, but complain.</p><p>For this Irishman, living in New England was not unlike living in Ireland (before the sub-Sahara weather set in over there), because the weather wasn't that much different except maybe it rains more on the old sod than here. However, that has all changed, it has. I live in the land of rainy, humid, jungly heat now, just like back home, waiting for palm trees to sprout. If it isn't raining it's cloudy with a 20-minute sunshine ratio that is in no way comfortable, because of the sauna-like air. All this has made me very uncreative and uncommunicative. What's to talk about here but the weather (such as it has become), and little else. </p><p>I had not weeded Tonya's garden this summer, I had not lain out in me comfy hammy, I, instead, had been lazing around inside that is, when I am not working at my real job.</p><p>However, last month I went for another MRI on me eyeball and the legion behind my eye has not grown or changed so I am ok for now. I usually get results on My Chart but didn't look because I didn't want to know. Ignorance was bliss in my case, and no news was good news. I had an appointment with my eye specialist, and she told me that nothing had changed. But before I even knew that I was put through a battery of eye tests to see how both eyes were faring. </p><p>I have trouble on sunny days driving (and believe it or not appointment day was one of those rare occasions) because the glare makes it hard for me to see where I am going, I had me sainted, grey-haired, apple-cheeked little Mam drive me to the appointment.</p><p>We were ushered into a read-the-chart exam. The lights went off and I was given the plastic eye cover for one eye while I was to read what was on the screen through a hole in the other. Well, maybe it was because of the stress of not knowing the MRI results at the time, and not being able to eat before the appointment (because of the stress of it all), that my vision was blurry in me operated-on eye. Blurrier than usual I should say. I couldn't read anything with that eye. </p><p>When we were back in the waiting room, Mam told me she wondered how I drove a car at all because I was blind as a bat in that one eye.</p><p>"Yer 20/60 did ya noo dat?" She elbowed me as we were taken to another room for a peripheral vision test.</p><p>"Last time I was 20/30," I said in wonderment. </p><p>The peripheral vision test wasn't much better in that same eye. I had lost 40% more on the lower left of that eye's vision whereas before it was 17%. Uh oh.</p><p>Well, the news on the MRI was good at least. To celebrate that since it was a big deal, we went to our favourite expensive pastry and coffee shop on the way home. The shop wasn't expensive until the pandemic, but like everything, prices are sky-high now. I was enjoying a chocolate mousse cupcake and maple latte when Mam decided to give me a blow-by-blow of my exam.</p><p>In giggles, she said, "When ye poot dat eye thingie to yer eye and said, "I can't see a ting," I was tinking yer were foolin' wit da, young techie. Den when he poot the letter line up a notch and ye still couldn't see it, I was tinkin' yer might be hafin' sum trooble." She shook her head in sorrow.</p><p>"Da best wuz when ye asked em' if dare were numbers mixed in wit da letters." She sighed and gave me a sad smile.</p><p>"Then da utter test results were jus as trooblesum, dat be a big vision loss it be dare, Gabriel."</p><p>"I be hoping it's from the past month's stress with all this going on," I said hardly able to eat me cupcake or sip the latte. I thought rightly I was also dehydrated which would also not help. I was out of sorts over this eye problem and hadn't bothered to hydrate at all.</p><p>Then Mam looked at me, put her hand gently on my arm and said, "Repeat dis tree tymes, <i>A big brown bug bit a big black bear.</i>" Can ye do it dare, Gabe?"</p><p>"Are ye serious?" I asked her feeling perplexed. Here I was feeling like she was being sympathetic about me loss of sight (well, sort of sympathetic) and instead, she was asking me to prove I was functional brain-wise. Who does that? I'll tell ya who, me apple-cheeked, grey-haired, little Mam!</p><p>Well, it's been another month and guess what? Everything has improved. I think because I forced meself to eat before I left, and took a bottle of water that I sipped on the way, to forget I wasn't stressed this time.</p><p>Now we are into winter, and time change. So far we have had a mild winter, no snow to report but the rain is still with us, along with gloomy cloudy days. I forgot what sunshine is for the most part. It is like I live in Tolkien's Mordor with lots of flooding water rushing over banks in rivers and streams. It is soggy going, it be. I should be in the goloshes and umbrella business, I'd make a small fortune. </p><p>Everyone seems to have a sense of not caring about anything which seems weather-related, it does. Seems the gloom has cast an overwhelming pale of doom and zombie-like behaviour where we all walk around not acknowledging each other and bored to the back teeth because it's too wet out or too cloudy to want to go out and do anything. Even Mam's baking frenzies have eased off. I tell ya it's getting scary R. Linda. Everyone looks disshelved and kind of scary like robots. Maybe because I am reading Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 the material has a subconscious play on me mind. I even put the Roomba up because it now bothers me it works on its own. That robot seems to suddenly kick into life as soon as it sees me. I know, I be letting me mind run away with the idea that the Roomba is out to trip me and kill me. It seems to delight (if I may use that word) in chasing the cat around the lower floor. Mam was thinking of getting another for the second floor. I was horrified I was. No, I told her, no, no, no. She informed me it would save her from breaking her back with the vacuum cleaner. The vac even has a name, it's a SHARK. I tell ya, I be thinking these electrified instruments are really torture and killing devices. Have enough of them and they'll get you sooner than later. I just know it! Yes, I be paranoid, because every time I turn around there is something plugged into the wall that hums to life be it computers, charging stations, vacuums, lights, foot massagers, etc., You name it and in my house they all have names, and they all have their own agenda. You see, this is what happens when you have gloomy rainy weather constantly, your mind does crazy things. And, it isn't just me, I was watching the news the other night and had to look at this:</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6v93Hy1pcev-g7pbivaOfmRfo8QQ9BponbuUjThtQz3DnpAFdqixq7AkLZD4yL6g48Pc7Ui4jzuoJl4xI8l-pOFaR3xDfIvAXPwwzG4laHZSqdKMUV92Ip8JVHgubmqFKOA8FlCF1J3CZcwZVrFb793bEa_vzWTqtzxURLOPdvgKiqTI__HsO7zkROMnN/s2952/ScaryReporter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1535" data-original-width="2952" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6v93Hy1pcev-g7pbivaOfmRfo8QQ9BponbuUjThtQz3DnpAFdqixq7AkLZD4yL6g48Pc7Ui4jzuoJl4xI8l-pOFaR3xDfIvAXPwwzG4laHZSqdKMUV92Ip8JVHgubmqFKOA8FlCF1J3CZcwZVrFb793bEa_vzWTqtzxURLOPdvgKiqTI__HsO7zkROMnN/w400-h208/ScaryReporter.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Scary right?</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p>Yes, she stood there giving a news story looking rather strange. I was so taken with her appearance that I can't for the life of me tell you what she was reporting. She's new I will give you that, but that's the other thing, what's happened to the local news? There has been an influx of new news people, presenters. And they all need a makeover. I look at Boston stations at the slick news people dressed to the nines and looking all coiffed and polished and then I turn on me local news and get, well you see what I get. And the wind wasn't even blowing, so I don't know why. She isn't the only one, there are a few others who need a brush and a comb, some clothes that flatter instead of enhance tyre rolls or heavy legs. I may sound ridiculous, but what happened to professional appearance? It's got so casual, that it's like me next door farmer could do the pig reports and no one would bat an eye.</p><p>Lastly, in me gloomy complaints, I went to Starbucks for a coffee and found they were selling olive oil. Look here:</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8xIBS71wuJOGeTdFEDy38NUaoCHwWHDfvUVoIWqNo1dGmTQNbQ2TuvUQgKWCco9HgQ0mJ2KEU0kb8ig8nBVCQ8vHWh-nUoG5px8vW8vt7jlPmFkfHvn8PIdqriDk_UNO3KDz88cemqTZ-UKjPtLXADGxxYlIjMeacu3IdwjclZxKAjXzMGzf-tUFp-P1-/s3720/Starbucks%20Oil%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2064" data-original-width="3720" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8xIBS71wuJOGeTdFEDy38NUaoCHwWHDfvUVoIWqNo1dGmTQNbQ2TuvUQgKWCco9HgQ0mJ2KEU0kb8ig8nBVCQ8vHWh-nUoG5px8vW8vt7jlPmFkfHvn8PIdqriDk_UNO3KDz88cemqTZ-UKjPtLXADGxxYlIjMeacu3IdwjclZxKAjXzMGzf-tUFp-P1-/w400-h223/Starbucks%20Oil%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Yeah, a little oil with me latte</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>Give me a white mocha venti with a side jug of oil. Yum!</p><p>I will take me grouchy self off the computer and go try to enjoy the gloom with a large cup of joe. Hopefully, things will be better in the new year. Maybe the rain will go away and the sun will actually stay out and make things look beautiful again. Or, maybe not.</p><p>Gabe</p><p><i style="background-color: #fff3db; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-size: 12px;">Copyright © 2023 All rights reserved</i></p><p><br /></p> <p></p>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-47251929674508216742023-10-27T10:03:00.003-04:002023-12-31T11:08:31.653-05:00Halloween Story - Strange but not fiction<p>27 October 2023</p><p>1098</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>The night before the last Halloween, I had a chance encounter with Gerry AKA Captain Jack. He had been in Boston for a party where he and a few of his buddies were hired to impersonate the Pirates of the Caribbean crew. In the very same hotel, I was at a party for one of our executives who was retiring. About 10:20 p.m. I went out to the lobby to check my phone before retiring for the evening. It was then I ran into Gerry in full Captain Jack costume. We were amazed to see each other and well, we went to the bar (naturally in the Captain's case) for a drink. He was done with his engagement and was staying the night at the hotel since it was too far to drive home to upper Maine. I was staying at the hotel as well because I knew the retirement party would run late and I had to be back at the old grind early the next morning.</p><p>One drink led to a few drinks and one of the captain's buddies joined us. I will say we were being gawked at in the bar lounge by EVERYBODY. One rather inebriated man came up to our table and toasted Gerry for his Pirate movies and we toasted back with a "Har Matey!" and just this small act had everyone else in the lounge convinced Johnny Depp was in the room. </p><p>Think about that. They all had to be in their cups because why would Johnny Depp dress up as Captain Jack in a hotel bar lounge? </p><p>It was 'mischief night' Gerry reminded me, and that led to an exchange of childhood stories about pranks we pulled on that particular night growing up. That led to some chilling Halloween legends we three shared and the atmosphere at our small corner table made it feel like we were worlds away from everyone else in the room. It was getting late and the lounge was closing, so we were thinking of moving our small gathering to one of our hotel rooms when George (the buddy and crew mate) got an idea that he thought was just perfect since it was the night before Halloween. He had a friend just a few blocks away and he was going to ring him up to meet us in a graveyard, one of Boston's most notorious haunted places, not far from our hotel and Paul Revere's house.</p><p>"Increase Mather, who was a part of the Salem Witch craziness, is buried there. Most of the graves are from the 1600s and it's quite a spooky place, psychic phenomena have been documented there and I think we should go see for ourselves, it is the 'season' and all.</p><p>"What say I call my friend Reilly and have him bring a Oiuja board and a couple of six-packs and we try to raise the dead?"</p><p>"How many people do you know that just happen to have a Ouija board handy?" I asked George.</p><p>"Hey, Reilly is a dealer in antiques, he's got one I saw it out in his Halloween display. Dontchaworry."</p><p>Oh no, here I go again. What is it I can't get away from these Halloween nut trips. And Weasil wasn't even the culprit this time. Gerry was all for a little fun, and he looked at me, but I shook me head no, I was going up to me room and sleep.</p><p>"Ah come on," Gerry urged. "It's almost Halloween and we are an hour away from the bewitching hour Mate, let's do this."</p><p>He was right, we had been in the lounge drinking for a while, so I caved, yes I did, I didn't want to do it, but I didn't want to appear the wuss and I wasn't about to explain all me Halloween trials and tribulations to drunken jokesters.</p><p>So off we went, the two still dressed like pirates and me Mr. Suit. We took a cab to the cemetery and I think the driver was thinking Halloween came early with two pirates in the backseat. It wasn't until Gerry got out to pay the man that the driver got a big stupid grin on his face thinking he was looking at the real thing, Johnny Depp. He started gushing over Gerry or Johnny and was all about joining us for a drink, we were his last fare. We weren't going for a drink, it was late and no bars still open that I saw, but somehow Gerry talked the man out his urge to be among the famous and sent him on his way with a sizeable tip I think, which would only add more to the man thinking he drove you-know-who around Boston.</p><p>Reilly arrived at the cemetery entrance a few minutes later with the spirit board in hand and two six-packs of beer. We went into the cemetery but as we were going in four young men were coming out, laughing and hooting at each other. Here we were all set for spooky doings and their appearance was quite loud and the laughter dispelled any scary feelings we had had. They saw the beer and asked if they could join us. Honestly, we were all in our cups and Reilly said, "Sure," before anyone could object. We went into the cemetery and shared a few bottles with them. We had a rather good time joking around and they were all about Captain Jack, it was revealed they thought Gerry was the real thing and that's why they wanted to join us. They didn't seem let down by the truth (actually Gerry was doing quite a good impersonation, they couldn't help but believe he might indeed be the real thing), we were all having a good time and Gerry had stayed in Jack Sparrow's character to entertain us. He was so funny I commented that I had never had so much fun in a graveyard until that night. I know, nutso, but my sides hurt from laughing so hard, as he was in rare Captain form. It must have been all the booze. </p><p>A slight breeze came up at one point and the moon scooted behind some clouds that looked like a creepy hand. </p><p>"Will ya look at that!" George pointed at the sky. "An omen?"</p><p>This sobered us all up. The lads decided they needed to leave and I do believe they were finally spooked. After they left us, we set ourselves the task at hand, seance.</p><p>With our happy companions gone, we suddenly were aware of our surroundings. The sky held its creepy look, like the moon's fingers were going to reach down at us. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-7aRLBd_1cDHDU6yWfDmhN0SdcF0XICg56Nml8B9kCMbMv7uun03HrCDikF34s453Zx8qtSu7iokdFkT-HqLbXGm5jvunWmW_AY73Yd6S8T9mUGCyJteVvIhP0bgS-71Bg4iIpE1VCwB1vNCHxGq5k93DoUsqImclCg10aJ979hgpIjptMoCSNm_CiBDv/s3872/FingerSky%20copy%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3872" data-original-width="2904" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-7aRLBd_1cDHDU6yWfDmhN0SdcF0XICg56Nml8B9kCMbMv7uun03HrCDikF34s453Zx8qtSu7iokdFkT-HqLbXGm5jvunWmW_AY73Yd6S8T9mUGCyJteVvIhP0bgS-71Bg4iIpE1VCwB1vNCHxGq5k93DoUsqImclCg10aJ979hgpIjptMoCSNm_CiBDv/w300-h400/FingerSky%20copy%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A creepy hand in the night sky</td></tr></tbody></table><p>We settled in and finally serious, with the chill of the evening creeping into our drunk bones, the quiet of the place was unsettling, but we started to concentrate on the Oiuja board by asking questions. Remarkably, if you believe in those sorts of things, we got someone named Bartholomew who told us someone we knew was going to be "killed" in a rather violent manner. In short, he told us the spirits were aware that this event was going to happen and that they were quiet "listening." We didn't understand any of that and decided to call it a night, because this information spooked us. We all agreed we were pretty sketched out by Bartholomew's warning and it was getting colder, so off we went back to our hotel and Reilly to his house. I think we were as hungover as we could be as well, so all this was freaking us out and no one spoke much on the way back to the hotel (to which we walked, no cabs at that time of night in sight). Are minds were adrift with the experience and the information, so much so no one wanted to broach the subject, but it was on our minds.</p><p>A few days later at my work, a report came in that a young man was killed in a freak accident. He had been out with friends and got into a fight with one of them and was punched in the head. The young man fell and hit his head on the stone wall by the sidewalk and died. The event happened a block away from the cemetery and it happened around the time we met the 4 boys. We never got any names so we don't know if this boy was one of the four we met that night. We never asked "Bartholomew" for a name, so to this day we don't know, but we are suspicious. The way we got "the spirits are listening" made it sound like this happening was close by and that's the impression we all had. It was very quiet in the cemetery that night, of course, it would be, but it was a different kind of quiet that quite unnerved yours truly and the others. </p><p>I will leave Bartholomew's message and the news of the accident for you to ponder. I think we did get a real spirit because if the lad was indeed one of the four, then we were told ahead of his demise. We couldn't have done anything about it, and we accept that this was the truth of the event being foretold. Still bothers me to this day, but there was no way we knew for sure what we were being told was true or even to whom the catastrophe would happen at the time.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCFcXugKsgRnSN-1LwolS6fGRkxQqWi-kQrIXTn5ixcmfpYqfbF3nUkrN7T5EsXAaBp69u3er0Gzt3H-FLamcrpaatux7R58xHTW5MlJILqvjYUCnhc9MwR7kiO3VtX5KiY1bSFVyXRNYsWJtdJvgsZdSrSggJD5236YD9LhsmopxPvb7vajJjqYr9-U9Y/s312/Tombstones.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="161" data-original-width="312" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCFcXugKsgRnSN-1LwolS6fGRkxQqWi-kQrIXTn5ixcmfpYqfbF3nUkrN7T5EsXAaBp69u3er0Gzt3H-FLamcrpaatux7R58xHTW5MlJILqvjYUCnhc9MwR7kiO3VtX5KiY1bSFVyXRNYsWJtdJvgsZdSrSggJD5236YD9LhsmopxPvb7vajJjqYr9-U9Y/w400-h206/Tombstones.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>Happy Hauntings!</p><p>Gabe</p><p><i style="background-color: #fff3db; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-size: 12px;">Copyright © 2023 All rights reserved</i></p><p><br /></p>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-79904291901909911082023-04-14T11:58:00.013-04:002023-09-27T09:35:47.484-04:00Cake Pop Thieves<p>14 April 2023</p><p>1097</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>I am debating if I should call the bakery police or just keep the knowledge of the guilty to meself. Last night me eldest O'Hare was honoured as second runner-up in a scholarship programme at a local club that each year presents a $10,000 scholarship for the winner and $1,000 for the two runner-ups. Well, O'Hare placed second and we were very proud of the speech he gave. </p><p>The evening started with sannies (some gluten-free), cheeses and crackers, fruits, etc., and a cash bar for the adults. It was quite a nice spread and they had cafe tables scattered all around so you could stand and eat like a cow and listen to the older ladies complain they wanted to get off their old feet and SIT IT DOWN! Yes, I was graced with both me Mam, AND the Dragon Lady. The wife, kiddos, and Sean were scattered about talking to their friends and neighbours while I was saddled with candidates for the old folks' home. </p><p>I had run to the bar and got them both Coke A Colas to wash down the (according to Dragon) dried ham sanny she was munching, and to be polite to have thought about me Mam I had juggled three sodas or as they say here in tropical New England, pops. Yes, R. Linda, it was a sweltering 90 degrees after having been 30! Of course, everyone was dressed in winter clothing because the weather was a SURPRISE! That alone had snarky moods going. </p><p>I was in a discussion with Dragon on how her sanny could possibly be dry because it was chocked full of fresh tomatoes and leafy lettuce when I noticed this plate of cheese and crackers magically rising from just below the cafe table to its top, sliding neatly onto the table. Then I fascinatingly watched as a small hand came up to pluck a piece of cheese, slap it on a cracker and disappear below the table. Yes, the wee one couldn't see beyond the lower reaches of the table legs since the tables were high and no chairs were to be had. </p><p>I was told to "Lift the child up, Gabe," by Dragon, and so with one hand holding me roast beef sanny, I lifted the wee one who isn't so wee anymore (63 pounds), and there I was trying to eat my food and keep me balance as the wee one munched cracker crumbs all over me, happy as a clam to be at adult level. </p><p>Realising I have a bad back and a leg that gives out, me Mam ordered me to put him down NOW! Which started a rather heated discussion on that subject between her and the Dragon. I stood there for a few more minutes before I had to put him down. He was pretty much finished anyway and now I needed a chair. </p><p>It wasn't long before we were ushered into the theatre portion of the club for the awards. As we walked into the theatre there was this giant mockup of the Academy for Motion Pictures statue on the high wall as you walk in. That should have been a warning. We sat in the third row and no one was in front of us, so we had a clear shot of the podium where O'Hare would give his speech. Happy as clams we waited for the awards ceremony to start as others shuffled in behind us. </p><p>While we were waiting, the large screen that hung from the ceiling over the stage showed a slide show of the good deeds and charitable programmes the club was involved in. A sponsored Irish dance team had made it to Kentucky (of all places) for the semi-finals. They didn't win but the photos of the girls were all smiles outside the venue and this had me Mam joking I should have entered, I could have shown them a thing or two. This had the Dragon's ear unfortunately and she started on me about why I never showed me moves to her and this was the first time she heard I didn't have two left feet. WELL! For one, me Mam was joking, I never took an Irish step dance class in me life! I can't dance to save my life either, so trying to explain this fell on deaf, and I mean for real deaf ears. </p><p>The lights went down putting an end to a whispered heated discussion. What followed was awards to everyone in town (just about). People who supported the club through either volunteer work or donations. A club board member would speak from the podium about the award and the awardees, and then call each by name to come up to accept their award. It was like being at the Oscars without the music and fancy dress. These recipients would shuffle up on stage and be given their award and a line of awardees would form, the clapping would stop and a photo was taken, and mercifully they'd all shuffle off to the audience without a speech of thanks being made. When you have ten recipients at a time, I could see how time-consuming it would be (not to mention boring for nonmembers), for each to say a word or two.</p><p>Though one man did, the rest of the awarded left the stage, but no, he said he wanted to say a few words and he'd keep it short. Under her breath, the Dragon was booing him and only me and Mam could hear her, or at least I hope only us could. Even Sean put in his two-pence in a stage whisper, "Where be the hook?" As the award winner droned on the Dragon started humming what sounded like the theme from Raiders of the Lost Ark music, to get him off stage, like they do at the Academy Awards. I tell ya! If I could have got up I'd have done so but that would only have caused unwanted attention to what was going on. I'd expect as much from the Weasil, but Dragon? This of course got me apple-cheeked, grey-haired old Mam giggling along with Sean! That wasn't a help.</p><p>After 40 minutes the scholarship award was about to be announced, but the awardees were to give their speeches for the award "live" first.</p><p>"Well, gosh I hope so live." Dragon quipped to anyone within earshot.</p><p>I wanted to sink down in my chair to the floor but I be too tall for that, so I made it like I didn't hear her. </p><p>The speeches went off rather well for teenagers. The first speech was personally oriented but the young lady had goals in mind for the future. O'Hare's was confident, ambitious, and entirely goal-oriented and the last one was a Meghan Markle special, of 'poor little me' theme. I knew O'Hare was second placed but did not know who the winner was, but suspected the first young lady. I was wrong, Meghan Markle's 'Woe is Me' won! I was astounded, but I did give her the standing ovation everyone else did. I was listening to Dragon clucking her tongue in disapproval that the girl won over the other two, but at least she got herself up and clapped. </p><p>With the awards over, we were told dessert was served, to help ourselves, and that the bar was still open. I needed something strong, but I was driving so I refrained. I ended up in the alcove of the theatre with most of my family talking with well-wishers who stopped to tell us how proud they were of O'Hare, while Sean made a bee-line for the bar and the Dragon wandered off to the dessert tables. The tables were filled with cake pops. </p><p>This is a cake pop:</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG6e7xxVD9tfUXrAXmPoLwjfRWORkLezAQ18umLc_tWgT5cyccNnl7ZQc0ouWzVh8Q1BhZ9xXUo5wvTpEuZNim4RlUYL_165fjBuAiRb35pEKBhOV1v8gzvAbXB6PSuibLsmFZpkM2OJwi8iRktwka4OT_ttvl0mjR3cywJXa6KGD6GnHNuyMR-CNW1A/s5736/RaspberryCakePop%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5736" data-original-width="3532" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG6e7xxVD9tfUXrAXmPoLwjfRWORkLezAQ18umLc_tWgT5cyccNnl7ZQc0ouWzVh8Q1BhZ9xXUo5wvTpEuZNim4RlUYL_165fjBuAiRb35pEKBhOV1v8gzvAbXB6PSuibLsmFZpkM2OJwi8iRktwka4OT_ttvl0mjR3cywJXa6KGD6GnHNuyMR-CNW1A/w246-h400/RaspberryCakePop%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="246" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>A raspberry cake pop</i> </td></tr></tbody></table><p>There were at least six tabletops covered with raspberry, blueberry, cherry, chocolate, and heaven knows what else. cake pops. Three tables all said "GLUTEN FREE." Those cake pops didn't run out, but the regular cake pops were cleaned out in minutes. </p><p>I didn't have to wonder why that was for long. The Dragon came siding up to me with a demonic grin on her face. She offered me a pink cake pop. </p><p>"For you little man." She said unctuously.</p><p>I refused the pop and she went her merry way to Tonya and gave it to her. Then she floated back out into the crowded dessert parlour. </p><p>Mam made much of me refusing the 'peace offering' as she put it for bad behaviour in the theatre. I wasn't buying it. I noticed Dragon floating amongst the tables, happily grinning to herself, and siding back to us offering different varieties of cake pops. She was quite enjoying herself and I was mystified as to why.</p><p>I watched as she nearly knocked the drink out of a man's hand to get the last cherry cake pop on the table. She grinned at him enough to scare the bejesus out of a baby and floated off with the cake pop held triumphantly in her hand. She came right to me like a homing device and offered me the cherry cake pop. I shook my head.</p><p>"Oh, well if you don't like cherry maybe one of these will do?" And she opened her purse and this be what I saw.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRZPFAynU9IbBoWts2z6J7a4EztTcMDZvN_mQZcmAiXtTH5qtDBfMHZdKO4sfafQGqpG1MfY_Rz2vvLupKl54IcMheoQk1lFZSW9fFEdWEnyga8OTk5b-4dLbHUfc2iiOtXY0HgHmhEDJ_AErGfDn6ifHrGnSMmQEeIjxRQQpP3nZ4uY4saA4_HGG4Mw/s8064/CakePops3%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8064" data-original-width="6048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRZPFAynU9IbBoWts2z6J7a4EztTcMDZvN_mQZcmAiXtTH5qtDBfMHZdKO4sfafQGqpG1MfY_Rz2vvLupKl54IcMheoQk1lFZSW9fFEdWEnyga8OTk5b-4dLbHUfc2iiOtXY0HgHmhEDJ_AErGfDn6ifHrGnSMmQEeIjxRQQpP3nZ4uY4saA4_HGG4Mw/w300-h400/CakePops3%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>A purse full of cake pops</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p>As if this wasn't bad enough she showed her stash to Sean who thought this a wonderful idea he'd get a few for the kiddos to munch on later, oi, oi, oi!</p><p>We have more cake pops than we have occupants of our house. I tell ya, I can't go anywhere with Dragon and after all these years I see she finally be a bad influence on me own apple-cheeked, grey-haired old Mam and especially her new partner in cake crime, Sean.</p><p>Gabe</p><p><span style="background-color: #fff2cc; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b;"><i>Copyright © 2023 All rights reserved</i></span></p>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-59868455163036884372023-04-13T08:59:00.002-04:002023-09-27T09:38:45.308-04:00The Drive-Thru<p>13 March 2023</p><p>1096</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>It was a blustery day, and the temps went from the low 30s to the mid-70s and I went from hot morning coffee to iced cold brew by the afternoon. I know I said I wasn't going to go to Dunks again because they are skimpy on the coffee and the brew just isn't like it used to be, BUT there was no Bigbucks, I mean Starbucks to spend big bucks on coffee, so I ended up at Dunks. Yes, I did.</p><p>I had to work the graveyard shift so it was around 2:30 a.m. when I pulled into Dunks, ordered a cold brew and because I was peckish I ordered an egg and cheese with sausage on a croissant. I pulled to one of the spots to consume the snack when I saw five teenage boys bent at the knees shuffling into the drive-thru, one holding his hands up like he was clutching a steering wheel and the rest sitting like passengers in an invisible car.</p><p>It was the tramp, tramp, tramp of feet in unison that caught my attention as they came into the light. I was in mid-bite and was so stunned at what I was seeing I didn't move. They shuffled up to the drive-thru menu and ordered. Then they shuffled up to the drive-thru window and waited like they were in a car for the Dunks person to take their money and hand over their order.</p><p>I laughed in spite of meself and finished my snack as I watched this whole pantomime play out. The Dunks person didn't seem to think this odd, but the person handing the cashier the drinks was giggling I could see them in the window. </p><p>Transaction completed, they shuffled to a parking space and still in a sitting position ate and drank their meals, and then just like they came in, they shuffled out. I was thoroughly amused and entertained, and thought about how creative they were. </p><p>I took these through me windscreen but blurry enough to protect the not-so-innocent, LOL.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGBweccGfohHWDGIBvErvF0SElJAm5XQ32LF-1sKNtJfWRrvVTSYRP3N_ko4ADX_xkYJUQIFLN_pa5Ty6nTrYwkyTHFTegJYfIVSK_upjRa4srxyvxk4iChq6gnkVl83IIQEKtVZTStUL6b8mHGxAq5nD7WTY10aBgKCxURwPkUupL0g5YVzc-on5GSQ/s8064/AtDunksDriveThr1%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8064" data-original-width="6048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGBweccGfohHWDGIBvErvF0SElJAm5XQ32LF-1sKNtJfWRrvVTSYRP3N_ko4ADX_xkYJUQIFLN_pa5Ty6nTrYwkyTHFTegJYfIVSK_upjRa4srxyvxk4iChq6gnkVl83IIQEKtVZTStUL6b8mHGxAq5nD7WTY10aBgKCxURwPkUupL0g5YVzc-on5GSQ/w300-h400/AtDunksDriveThr1%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Shuffling -- I mean pulling up to the drive-thru<br /></i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj71FAlVjS2P0lkgxtqeLI94MQ1KB5i-_iyZ9H4VhhXbHVQAnJ2ht93uIstV-1_rjew0camo_NRlOoiD0C9uPxeqk247VU63UrVRZUhjRJCYSGgWODv14sN5T2llclbUba-k1Dy5LUIM3K3o5n12vlcy8YY5bJRuhLABepg-sEIoVUqvXS41MX0--Py7g/s7457/AtDunksDriveThru2%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="7457" data-original-width="5953" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj71FAlVjS2P0lkgxtqeLI94MQ1KB5i-_iyZ9H4VhhXbHVQAnJ2ht93uIstV-1_rjew0camo_NRlOoiD0C9uPxeqk247VU63UrVRZUhjRJCYSGgWODv14sN5T2llclbUba-k1Dy5LUIM3K3o5n12vlcy8YY5bJRuhLABepg-sEIoVUqvXS41MX0--Py7g/w319-h400/AtDunksDriveThru2%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="319" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Waiting for their order</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7882UOCv9D7rkQjtHyLqFq0fIyZuq57ljT7fHnnhpIFR1Cc7s45qs1yS9tf35Ylk8NxVo8Y3GPKthsCdb3ZI6pT5CsOe7k39haX72uMy9pzhEBD93d2fS3nVKL2v-qzQHAmBJfhmZ_CEirdTuB1M4GVDdAutxQOP5UA2K3Tx5NX-HOSvm0m0GNHmzIw/s8064/AtDunksDriveThru3%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8064" data-original-width="6048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7882UOCv9D7rkQjtHyLqFq0fIyZuq57ljT7fHnnhpIFR1Cc7s45qs1yS9tf35Ylk8NxVo8Y3GPKthsCdb3ZI6pT5CsOe7k39haX72uMy9pzhEBD93d2fS3nVKL2v-qzQHAmBJfhmZ_CEirdTuB1M4GVDdAutxQOP5UA2K3Tx5NX-HOSvm0m0GNHmzIw/w300-h400/AtDunksDriveThru3%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>I had to hand it to them, if you don't have a car, make like you do</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>So now we all know what to do if the only place to get coffee and a donut is a drive-thru and you don't have a car. Make it like you do! Kudos to these creative teenage geniuses.</p><p>Gabe</p><span style="background-color: #fff2cc; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b;"><i>Copyright © 2023 All rights reserved</i></span>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-28461231061306379572023-04-12T09:38:00.004-04:002023-09-27T09:47:13.999-04:00March Madness turns into April insanity<p>12 April 2023</p><p>1095</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>I have been enjoying watching the three feet of snow we received melt. I have not been enjoying what is showing as the snow dissipates and there are lots of tree branches all over the place. It is times like this, I wish I had a postage-stamp property instead of acres of it. So, we all know what I will be doing once the snow is gone, sigh.</p><p>This morning the house generator was supposed to come on as it does every Monday morning to test itself, but it didn't come on. It coughed four times and sputtered and that was it. I guess now I have to have that serviced, or worse, replaced. I hope we don't lose power while it is still cold. Just another thing for Gabe to worry over.</p><p>To add to me angst, the Dragon Lady flew in on her broom for a "short visit" and that means she may be here for the remainder of the year that just started. Yes, indeed just in time for mud season. She has hearing aids she does not use, and glasses that decorate a table in the spare bedroom. Why we have these helpful devices and don't use them is beyond me comprehension. I guess it's more fun to annoy the rest of us with the constant question, "WHAT DID YOU SAY?" shouted at us every time one of us opens our cakehole, and "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?" making us have to point at something so she can go over and look at whatever it is with three inches distance from the object to her eyes. Ugh! </p><p>Just Sunday afternoon, I was sitting with the kiddos watching a basketball game and there we were happily munching on gummy bears, when in drifts the Dragon and she said to me, "I heard you ask O'Hare to pass you the gummy beers. Are you crazy letting your boys eat beer-flavoured candy?"</p><p>I mouthed the words gummy beers and realised she meant BEARS. </p><p>"Stuff like this bunches me shorts!" I said to her. I held up the package so she could read what we were really snacking on. She made a show of squinting her eyes. </p><p>"Before you give me back chat," I said, "and make a shindy out of nothing much . . ." That's as far as I got she went huffing off. I know I should control my temper better but after all these years, I'd think she'd come to some kind of understanding that yours truly be short on patience! Especially when the problem can be remedied.</p><p>One night Rue Paul's drag show was on, and someone (I won't mention names like Dragon) left the telly on while she was in the kitchen harassing me Mam, when I went to her to ask if she wanted to watch the drag queen show (for want of other words because I don't know the name of it) and she turned at me rather harshly and said, "Drug queen?" I simply turned on me heel and went in and turned the set off. I wasn't about to engage. </p><p>I could hear Mam questioning her, "Droogs? Dare be sich a show be dare?"</p><p>But here's the clincher. For the past few nights, we all were in the den watching the news, and when the weather came on, the Dragon did something odd, she got up crouching towards the telly squinting her eyes like she was trying to focus on something on the screen. After the fourth time of this, me Mam (who be outspoken to begin with), says to her, "Wot rr ye doin' dare?"</p><p>Of course, the Dragon thinks Mam be speaking in a foreign language because she doesn't always get the Irish accent inflecions and abbreviations of the spoken English words. She whirled around and shouted, "WHAT?"</p><p>"Calm yerself," Mam said, pointing at the telly screen. Then very slowly and pronouncing every word in the best Irish American accent she could continued, "What be it YOU are looking to find on dat screen?"</p><p>"Oh!" Dragon said more to the air than me Mam and turning on her heel went off to the kitchen for Windex and a paper towel. She came back and waited for the big weather screen to come back on and then rushed forward spraying Windex and rubbing the screen. I saw where she was rubbing and it was the tiny island of Bermuda! Yes, R. Linda, the woman had lost it. I wondered instantly what about Bermuda she didn't like that she'd try to rub it out. She had lost what was left of her marbles I thought and I was sure everyone else thought the same thing.</p><p>"Damn spot won't come out," she said sounding like Lady Macbeth. "I just can't get that one to clear up. And then there is this other one." And she went higher on the screen rubbing at another island.</p><p>"Those are not spots, those are islands on the weather map," I said getting up and taking the Windex away before she ruined the telly screen. I tell ya the woman be a piece of work she be!</p><p>Here take a look at this:</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_htQiplYXDGUhSKjZ_dUaBZWLeTQEEtIvHLU9Nfo3hfVtjTegC26xuDtooXARmr5mdAHxE35DAN8O97qNP__XWi9xMDv2n2Xkhs4OPcwfkoHQV3qRecsL6BgHGbxlyjSKoT2f4Y1FXl3jm87lVDU-y-m2adnXuDJM9Q7Eypx0diOLOePO1Ot8CMmA4g/s8064/Map3%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6048" data-original-width="8064" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_htQiplYXDGUhSKjZ_dUaBZWLeTQEEtIvHLU9Nfo3hfVtjTegC26xuDtooXARmr5mdAHxE35DAN8O97qNP__XWi9xMDv2n2Xkhs4OPcwfkoHQV3qRecsL6BgHGbxlyjSKoT2f4Y1FXl3jm87lVDU-y-m2adnXuDJM9Q7Eypx0diOLOePO1Ot8CMmA4g/w400-h300/Map3%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>See the spot which be Sable Island off the coast of Nova Scotia? Island or spot?</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZpqzqNOsPa2k_meod1hLSaCE4qPxLjWmpFLjUwZllV7CvVHQ1BRUZgoWbzEcnIitO_IJaDzX6aU1ZoaapxLApY6ocHc1DCQHd2ItHHZYZ2lMKi2FJUlVc3-JXaUf-xHCY3Xahuza8a94jxudzKSAGVm57VbYc0cC3DXvz2iHNXIZrOy7PHQsijY9Ncg/s7366/Map1%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5000" data-original-width="7366" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZpqzqNOsPa2k_meod1hLSaCE4qPxLjWmpFLjUwZllV7CvVHQ1BRUZgoWbzEcnIitO_IJaDzX6aU1ZoaapxLApY6ocHc1DCQHd2ItHHZYZ2lMKi2FJUlVc3-JXaUf-xHCY3Xahuza8a94jxudzKSAGVm57VbYc0cC3DXvz2iHNXIZrOy7PHQsijY9Ncg/w400-h271/Map1%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>See the "spots" north and south in the Atlantic, uh huh, she said at first she thought they were flies, but when they didn't move she decided they were spots!</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjl6kuBxejE3JyQE5qpTFZf5p-m3cztwy10Uz8q7m_SRj6X56IHlwTCZ_6hyYIiCXOKpJA7edDg0XaBMNfJbe-nkYHOuIVnoZIWpSMKzB1_WWTpjGs3vHXK4HPdtKXOkIy8ovzYkojbgAqkLoHOT5YIxwGwXl6pKoR3odDuVntqr7OBNrc59vI2RR6iA/s8064/Map2%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6048" data-original-width="8064" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjl6kuBxejE3JyQE5qpTFZf5p-m3cztwy10Uz8q7m_SRj6X56IHlwTCZ_6hyYIiCXOKpJA7edDg0XaBMNfJbe-nkYHOuIVnoZIWpSMKzB1_WWTpjGs3vHXK4HPdtKXOkIy8ovzYkojbgAqkLoHOT5YIxwGwXl6pKoR3odDuVntqr7OBNrc59vI2RR6iA/w400-h300/Map2%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Yes, she tried to Windex Bermuda out of existence</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>I truly don't know what to do about the woman. </p><p>Gabe</p><p><span style="background-color: #fff2cc; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b;"><i>Copyright © 2023 All rights reserved</i></span></p><p><br /></p>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-56746761290706419712023-03-17T11:58:00.009-04:002023-10-13T10:47:31.865-04:00Happy St. Paddy's Day 2023!<p>17 March 2023</p><p>1094</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>It be the day we live for to celebrate our Irishness. Mam outdid herself with the best potato soup she's made yet! I could have made a meal of that by itself, I could. She made her lovely soda bread, with baked beans, bangers and mash and to top it off a gorgeous-tasting apple cake with caramel sauce! And yes, she made the sauce light enough that she coloured it green just to delight the kiddos (though for a moment Tonya and I thought it was a jar of slime). Oh, and not to forget the shamrock shakes, non-alcoholic for the kiddos and with a bit of sass for the adults.</p><p>So Happy St. Paddy's Day to ye! I know they are serving up tacos and enchiladas in Denver, so I had your portion for you. Here are a few photos of what you're missing, LOL. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbvBQu9W6n4NFt2QO4fLOoeD2QRvCqWdBp3jvHSROtDY8lt8oZOcI0DQx-wEMkfO_XIpP7NS6r6D2CbA_TsSd-xCCN_B0P5dRJnsvWISKXju1CJGHkQ_UDR4zJPIAenDrW4-AQ7kokyKSoqTOU_gmZZUenOd0K8Xy05ES2fCd8P0bCpsfbCEr7y7C4aA/s2033/2023StPats2%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="2033" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbvBQu9W6n4NFt2QO4fLOoeD2QRvCqWdBp3jvHSROtDY8lt8oZOcI0DQx-wEMkfO_XIpP7NS6r6D2CbA_TsSd-xCCN_B0P5dRJnsvWISKXju1CJGHkQ_UDR4zJPIAenDrW4-AQ7kokyKSoqTOU_gmZZUenOd0K8Xy05ES2fCd8P0bCpsfbCEr7y7C4aA/w400-h170/2023StPats2%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>First, we turned each of the kiddos into leprechauns</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9a95Av-Nd0ukbUmZU7Ex1yPwd_hg-1H4aX3c4e1sDfbTJ7-pXZ5ssB1Fe2s4SvdlURY3ibYMxLHVB_lMYSMDGCQPPSBEZ7QhF4dYjRl4M65HS2Es42UwdqvmdqF_bh_RdnKidcdXvtgWjzYdHgXoBU4hcbIf1EqBYvGi02oTHAlgszRpJwA2UAhB7wg/s8064/BakedBeans3%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8064" data-original-width="6048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9a95Av-Nd0ukbUmZU7Ex1yPwd_hg-1H4aX3c4e1sDfbTJ7-pXZ5ssB1Fe2s4SvdlURY3ibYMxLHVB_lMYSMDGCQPPSBEZ7QhF4dYjRl4M65HS2Es42UwdqvmdqF_bh_RdnKidcdXvtgWjzYdHgXoBU4hcbIf1EqBYvGi02oTHAlgszRpJwA2UAhB7wg/w300-h400/BakedBeans3%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Table ready and that big jug of Mam's baked beans, YUM</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd8uJITmyRD90lhOKaDfC53QDbWKPbmcRT8y-4UKKyxGLle2Qjczc9sjA3_RWFixmeN2q0ij5l2vYlf5aY4-QiiNZXZ_SRk3mbQ2lqQEQYWdEUICBznIq4FWPyptgOX6Y1BVocvqMW0i-4djeR64bpc8_wR0rJpy8hLvwlrsR9sSSwUHaH6FjUQzDjgA/s8064/PotatoSoup%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8064" data-original-width="6048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd8uJITmyRD90lhOKaDfC53QDbWKPbmcRT8y-4UKKyxGLle2Qjczc9sjA3_RWFixmeN2q0ij5l2vYlf5aY4-QiiNZXZ_SRk3mbQ2lqQEQYWdEUICBznIq4FWPyptgOX6Y1BVocvqMW0i-4djeR64bpc8_wR0rJpy8hLvwlrsR9sSSwUHaH6FjUQzDjgA/w300-h400/PotatoSoup%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The best potato soup ever! </i></td></tr></tbody></table><p>When you are busy filling your piehole, and you hear tapping at the bottom of the bowl, you know the soup was good! Every little mouthful.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm6F0ciR0mswVO-kiYanzhiZfJp2YPANEtZLtPe-vQcR-PlGvsLrXcq_kPhJwHLlGXR1CRUl046Pkz5pOsfQWhDXQYc7sGwMhP8EcnyTnFSL1Na9XwUtZYxDNjn-_RixdUgnL9YRpJSN9gF_jpXOnXzteAOgUxt43DSmR22qrZ94Jo0WC1-jPC0umdUg/s8064/IrishSodaBread%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8064" data-original-width="6048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm6F0ciR0mswVO-kiYanzhiZfJp2YPANEtZLtPe-vQcR-PlGvsLrXcq_kPhJwHLlGXR1CRUl046Pkz5pOsfQWhDXQYc7sGwMhP8EcnyTnFSL1Na9XwUtZYxDNjn-_RixdUgnL9YRpJSN9gF_jpXOnXzteAOgUxt43DSmR22qrZ94Jo0WC1-jPC0umdUg/w300-h400/IrishSodaBread%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Mam's soda bread served with Kerry Gold and no other</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsAUOos-JJAGPbD-u94u2MgJUoaZv84H7XYv4lKN24PWkShWNFpONApKM1mxo-8VhoyoOpL4hRqZHb3tmEqE2c0G84aqRSVmvFUkCXCVvp2ruhlpcWqV-Mfktm1FkUQHAvGaF8mL9KtCQl1RyRZcuTfbEHEkTyWlYRdX3h9YnJLwH5SFTvOzILj4I4TA/s8064/ShamrockShake%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8064" data-original-width="6048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsAUOos-JJAGPbD-u94u2MgJUoaZv84H7XYv4lKN24PWkShWNFpONApKM1mxo-8VhoyoOpL4hRqZHb3tmEqE2c0G84aqRSVmvFUkCXCVvp2ruhlpcWqV-Mfktm1FkUQHAvGaF8mL9KtCQl1RyRZcuTfbEHEkTyWlYRdX3h9YnJLwH5SFTvOzILj4I4TA/w300-h400/ShamrockShake%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Shamrock Shake -- Adult Edition</i></td></tr></tbody></table><p>We lace the ice cream with Bailey's and Creme de Menthe, top off with homemade whipped cream and there we are!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHfhbZs8veeeb9lsLC4Iyx3PpO7fYev_jBKRtDgLQQGqJvUr8tr71IKNKydVS9zV-pmxK3YBxs2j-VGJIjX_3uOD0wX6xtmJT-brKzvHUGClSSwb7t6HX7i-JxPqp8S5n1Rvhybx-C0OCq0MZGBVydde0uhYuIT3KL8vXbCnkjLfPRmRld70D29BWDtg/s8064/Bangers&Mash2%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8064" data-original-width="6048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHfhbZs8veeeb9lsLC4Iyx3PpO7fYev_jBKRtDgLQQGqJvUr8tr71IKNKydVS9zV-pmxK3YBxs2j-VGJIjX_3uOD0wX6xtmJT-brKzvHUGClSSwb7t6HX7i-JxPqp8S5n1Rvhybx-C0OCq0MZGBVydde0uhYuIT3KL8vXbCnkjLfPRmRld70D29BWDtg/w300-h400/Bangers&Mash2%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Bangers and mash, just oozing that fine onion gravy!</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>And for afters:</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6VH1y4rW8O3aDlXuLnBRK_9ZFGlAWjHbVR85_SxtAn68-EeXmoNoc8cqc7kiqkBHLlLQbYjJL16BKww3Ukujvsg3qzeyZlCo-bvNVms0_iRydPqwgHUVkmk23iMb5JA_DtLl-Qitf7IRDKaR3XNKWJsWu-JWblh4rgIA5ZOGoaY4zzwPSm3hEGtTgRw/s8064/AppleCake%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8064" data-original-width="6048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6VH1y4rW8O3aDlXuLnBRK_9ZFGlAWjHbVR85_SxtAn68-EeXmoNoc8cqc7kiqkBHLlLQbYjJL16BKww3Ukujvsg3qzeyZlCo-bvNVms0_iRydPqwgHUVkmk23iMb5JA_DtLl-Qitf7IRDKaR3XNKWJsWu-JWblh4rgIA5ZOGoaY4zzwPSm3hEGtTgRw/w300-h400/AppleCake%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Irish apple cake with caramel sauce - to die for!</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Sooo now I be full of the good stuff, and I will say it was an enjoyable St. Paddy's Day if ever there was one. Everyone was happy, full of good food, and yes, I had a Guinness and a shot of Jameson so I be one happy Irishman. </p><p>Gabe</p><p><span style="background-color: #fff2cc; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-size: small;"><i>Copyright © 2023 All rights reserved</i></span></p>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-42842705371944747742023-03-09T11:31:00.007-05:002023-10-15T11:49:26.806-04:00Post Valentine's Day Story<p>09 March 2023</p><p>1093</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>I meant to let you know that on Valentine's Day, I had run over to the local jewellery store in a more populated town. While I was there, there was this older gent who hadn't bought a piece of jewellery for his wife ever. Not even a wedding ring! So she being not well and he being at the end of his "golden years" (his verbiage, not mine), he decided to buy her a pin! Yes, a pin R. Linda. If I bought my wife, a PIN I'd be sent back to return it. Not many pins are being sold these days, but back in HIS day well, pins were the thing.</p><p>So I bought Tonya another charm for her bracelet, to commemorate her completing her doctorate in Education Specialties. At least I think that's what it is. Anyway, while I was waiting for the gift wrapping to be done, this old fellow came up next to me and started chatting while he was waiting for a tray of pins to come out. He told me his sorry story, but hey, better late than never right?</p><p>The tray came and there were scant pins, but he looked at the dazzling display and he had no clue what she'd like, though they have been married 50 some years. He turned to me just as I got me purchase and said, "If it were your wife which one would you pick?" </p><p>Well, none. But I didn't say that, I looked for the smallest, plainest pin and pointed to this little gold heart pin with no adornment, just a gold heart with a stylised arrow through it. And I shrugged. He thanked me and told the salesgirl to wrap it up that was the one. </p><p>I went on my merry way across the street to the pet store to buy treats for the dog when it hit me that he never asked the price. Well, I am sure the girl at the counter told him, and I shrugged to meself and went on my way to buy the dog treats. When I came out I saw the ambulance pulling into the jewellery store lot. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgIFm6LCKw-vUjfyk_J6yOZZ4owJCaGnJWLlMGbShpE2woC9RTty2RwS8Zk3bhgJaGa34XyiVhap5f7BzJgOmE4WwfdnjkCBpzbNj6prkFpARcz130DjaYh2xCARbLO4lWMu77H33usWb29dHmjJ9yCdH8d0m6p4Qwt1zi2q9MoJAOoRlW4pNz1uAyfA/s4452/CloseCall1%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2950" data-original-width="4452" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgIFm6LCKw-vUjfyk_J6yOZZ4owJCaGnJWLlMGbShpE2woC9RTty2RwS8Zk3bhgJaGa34XyiVhap5f7BzJgOmE4WwfdnjkCBpzbNj6prkFpARcz130DjaYh2xCARbLO4lWMu77H33usWb29dHmjJ9yCdH8d0m6p4Qwt1zi2q9MoJAOoRlW4pNz1uAyfA/w400-h265/CloseCall1%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>See the red ambulance on the right? Well, it was pulling in as I was waiting for the light to change.<br /><br /></i></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLiU5vxjr-nRgpnwi_DpJbvd9a84wylS7UK9C_k73sR54gFch0jqhN4KcdST9WxP99Khm2FL0Vz0GZbCVyjoa2ray8ZqPHahNxD9stcq_mkYAZgMyNobsXAiEo-a_fgKFOVE106PO25BDmuKfaLWD4b-rBIGoKBkbOI8CecV_kEWia6hx7i3eTsgKGGw/s5018/CloseCall2%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4020" data-original-width="5018" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLiU5vxjr-nRgpnwi_DpJbvd9a84wylS7UK9C_k73sR54gFch0jqhN4KcdST9WxP99Khm2FL0Vz0GZbCVyjoa2ray8ZqPHahNxD9stcq_mkYAZgMyNobsXAiEo-a_fgKFOVE106PO25BDmuKfaLWD4b-rBIGoKBkbOI8CecV_kEWia6hx7i3eTsgKGGw/w400-h320/CloseCall2%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Better shot for you</i><br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Well, turns out the next day there was a small blurb in the newspaper, that an older gentleman was in the local jewellery store buying a 18-karat solid gold PIN for his wife when suddenly he suffered a heart attack. I mentioned this to me Mam who said casually, "Wheel now, da mon probably hadda heart attack when he saw da price of da pin dare, Gabriel."<div><br /><div>How to make me feel really bad. I gaped at her thinking she could be right and it be all my fault!</div><div><br /></div><div>"Ya, noo pins are expensive dunt ya dare, Gabe? Dats why noon buys em'."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Uh, I did not know that." I blabbered. </div><div><br /></div><div>Well, I read on and sure enough, as soon as he got the bill for $5,014 bucks his face turned a purple colour, he held his hand to his heart as he clutched his wallet tightly, and then well, he collapsed and the ambulance took him to hospital. I KNOW it was the reaction to that price tag, I do. It didn't say that just described what occurred. But you and I KNOW it was the hefty price tag. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Who knew pins cost that much?" I stammered feeling so very guilty.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Any eejit who buys 18 karat gold designer pin has got to noo dat." Me Mam shook her head as if men were all fools. </div><div><br /></div><div>I explained to her what happened and how it was my fault, and she said trying to make me feel better, which she didn't, "Dem pins back in da day as dae say here were like $5.00 and if he'd been married 50 years ago, he shoulda realised prices are oop and designer pins are all ya can buy!"</div><div><br /></div><div>"He does now," I said. </div><div><br /></div><div>She took the paper and read the story.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Says here, the store never finalised the sale, so he's home free."</div><div><br /></div><div>All I can say be, this is not the first time I've been in a jewellery store where someone had screwed up a purchase. I learned my lesson this time, never engage in conversation with another customer. I swear to you R. Linda, I will never, never, never do that again!</div><div><br /></div><div>P.S. The old gent is going to be okay I understand. Just had a shock to his system said he in a follow-up article. He, the salesgirl, and meself know what that shock was. Oi!</div><div><br /></div><div>Gabe</div><div><span face="Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif" style="background-color: #fff2cc; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-size: x-small;"><i>Copyright © 2023 All rights reserved</i></span></div></div>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-59958642329148569312023-03-05T15:47:00.015-05:002023-09-27T09:58:09.850-04:00Sciatica Can Be Fun -- No?<p>05 March 2023</p><p>1092</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>So here's the tale, Sonja and Elmer both discovered at the same time they had sciatica. Elmer went to physical therapy for stretching exercises, while Sonja was given Meloxicam anytime she had a twinge. These two were doing great until both got a flare-up at the same time!</p><p>I was at my town hall to pay for me dog license and the waiting room had three others ahead of me. I sat down and as we were a small country village, I recognised one of the people waiting and said hello, and then nodded to the other two in greeting. The couple who were Sonja and Elmer were regaling Joe (the man I knew), about their medical ills. Because I was there I found meself included in the conversation.</p><p>"Last month we both had a bout of the sciatic, ah-yuh," Elmer said.</p><p>"Oh yes, and it was at the same time!" Sonja said as if she was still stunned that such could occur.</p><p>"Ah-yuh, we had gone to bed all achy and the next morning we woke at the same time. I tried to sit up but found the pain was too much and I was afraid if I tried, I'd make it worse. Sos I say to the wife, Sonja, can ya come round and help me out of bed, my back is keeping me from it. And she said . . . well tell em' what you said honey."</p><p>"I said I couldn't get up either because my back was out."</p><p>"So what did you do? Call 911?" Joe asked.</p><p>"Ah no, we couldn't reach our phones. They were on our respective nightstands and to stretch out for one would have been painful."</p><p>"What did you do?" I asked after they paused and seemed to be deep in thought remembering.</p><p>"Well, I started to slide outen' my side but Sonja stopped me. She said, "If you slide out of bed and I slide out of bed, who's going to help us up, we'll both be on the floor on either side of the bed.""</p><p>"I thought that, well, if one of us did that maybe that one could crawl to the living room where the landline was and the table it was on is lower than the nightstands," Sonja explained. </p><p>"I volunteered to do it and so I tried to slowly and gently slide my way off the bed. Now we have a rather old-fashioned bed, and the new mattresses they make nowadays make it taller, so you get that when I slid I went fast and couldn't stop myself as there was nothin' to hold onta. I was on the floor in nuthin flat and flat was the word, I was flat on my back and had to try to twist myself to turn over so I could crawl, but the more I rocked my body to the left, the more my back was killin' me." Elmer said.</p><p>"And I couldn't see em' so I had no idea what he was doin' down there."</p><p>"She starts shoutin' at me "Whaddaya doin' down there Elmer?" And I was tryin' my best not to cry out from the pain I was in, so that got her thinkin' I musta passed out and next thing I knowed she slid outen' her side and she's yowling like a cat cause she hit the floor hard."</p><p>"Well yeah, I had nothin' to break my fall." Sonja pouted.</p><p>"So now you are both on the floor?" Joe was incredulous.</p><p>"We sure were," Sonja said with a giggle. "I could see him from under the bed and told him he had got us in a fine fix since now we were both in a pickle."</p><p>"I tried rolling and she was doing the same thing, only instead of rolling out the bedroom door, I found I was rolling toward the bathroom door. Not where the phone was. And her, well she was pushing with her legs on the carpet and not making much progress."</p><p>"But I have rugburn still." Sonja reminded him.</p><p>"Oh lord, what did you do? Obviously, you're here so you had to have gotten help." I said.</p><p>"Well, when I saw what she was doing I decided to try that but every time I pushed, my pajama bottoms started to slide down offin' me and she's right about rugburn, so I stopped that and got my breath and started rolling in the other direction and actually got myself to the bedroom door."</p><p>"And, his pants were still falling down with every effort to push himself. But he was making progress and when I saw him rolling I tried that and made it right up next to him." Sonja joined in. "</p><p>"BUT . . . " and Elmer gave Sonja a look, "We both got stuck in the doorway. She trying to pull up my pajama bottoms and me tryin' to roll away from her to git to the phone. She thought she could roll faster to the living room and started off at the same time I did. We were arms and legs entwined and not able to move because the doorway weren't that big the two of us could roll through at the same time." </p><p>"It was then we had a bit of a shouting match at each other and we finally got untwined when I thought I heard someone at the door," Sonja said brightly.</p><p>"It was not a someone, but a what. I thought for certain it was someone come to visit but then I heard scratchin' at the door. I said to her, "If that's your squirrel I'm gonna be real unhappy.""</p><p>"Wait, squirrel? You own a squirrel?" Joe asked confused.</p><p>"No, she feeds this tree rat that comes to the window bird feeder and she slips scraps under the screen at it and so it's become her pet," Elmer explained looking hard at Sonja with disapproval.</p><p>"Only it weren't Fred (I named him Fred -- the squirrel), it was the neighbor's dog that comes over to chase my squirrel," Sonja said with a lot of annoyance.</p><p>"Our front door ain't ever locked ya see and the dog is a Great Dane mix so ee's a biggen', name a Brutus and he lets himself in on occasion. So thinking it had to be Brutus I started callin' at 'em to come. I figured if I could roll/push myself into the hallway, I could reach the desk where the post-a-notes are and write a note, tape it on old Brutus, and send him home for help."</p><p>"Best laid plans," Sonja said sarcastically and got a dirty look from Elmer.</p><p>"Well now the door sprung open and guess what was standin' and I mean standin' in the front doorway. Ya guessed it FRED. On two legs yet, wringing his front paws together like he was worried. Um hum." Elmer said clamping his jaws together in unhappiness. </p><p>"I could see Fred so I called to him to come on in," Sonja said as Elmer shook his head angrily. "So Fred hesitated then he got down on all fours and hopped on in. He didn't come close but stopped and was like, sizing up the situation."</p><p>"Sizing up the situation, would you stop!" Elmer threw at her. "That damn rodent could care less all he cared about was sizing up the kitchen and then going to the kitchen which is where he went and he found the loaf of bread on the table and started eating, all the while staring at us like he knew we could do nuthin' bout it."</p><p>"Oh me gosh," I said imagining the scene.</p><p>"But help was on the way!" Sonja cajoled.</p><p>"Oh sure it was in the form of another critter standin' in the doorway sizing up the situation as my wife likes to call it. It was Brutus this time and as SHE started calling him, he saw the tree rat and you know how dogs are about squirrels and he was off charging into the kitchen after the damn thing." Elmer sighed.</p><p>"And a fine mess he made of my kitchen too!" Sonja complained. "Fred shot right up on the counter and the toaster hit the floor and as Brutus jumped up he got caught in the microwave wire and down that machine came crashing to the floor. Fred was agile as a cat and climbed the kitchen curtains I guess to get out the window, but the window was closed and Brutus was jumping at his tail over the sink, and Fred was chittering up a storm of protest when finally McManus came to the door looking for his dog and sees us sprawled on the floor, the dog and Fred rippin' up the kitchen, well once he got the dog out he got a broom but I told him to open the window so Fred could jump out but he didn't wanna git bit so he weren't gonna do it, so I told him to help me up and I'd do it." Sonja was near breathless explaining what happened.</p><p>"Meanwhile, because McManus didn't close the door tight enough Brutus was back and at the squirrel who had leapt to the overhead kitchen light and was sitting up there like he was laughin' at Brutus which made Brutus mad. McManus had me half up and then nearly dropped me when he saw his dog come racing in, but I managed to catch the doorknob to keep from falling. I left Sonja where she was because my back was killin' me and I didn't want to do myself more harm."</p><p>"Yeah left me there. Typical man, his backside hanging out of his pj's." Sonja said her eyes narrow as she looked Elmer up and down like he had quite the nerve.</p><p>"So what happened next?" Joe asked enthralled.</p><p>"Well, because of my back, McManus had to haul his dog out on his own, he came back and got Sonja upright and then she opened the window and Fred made his escape, but you know who was under the window waitin' doncha? Yeah well, we ain't seen Fred since." Elmer said somewhat satisfied.</p><p>"Brutus got Fred?" Joe asked horrified.</p><p>"Now Joe, don't look so shocked. It was a rat with a fluffy tail and no, Fred got away but he has half of that fluffy tail, Brutus did manage to chomp down but he only got the tip and not the meat. The tree rat made his way up the oak tree and hasn't been down since. Probably bemoaning the loss of part of that tail he liked shaking at me." </p><p>Elmer and Sonja's story ended there as they were called into the town clerk's office. I sat looking amused at Joe who was still looking a bit shaken. </p><p>"Really?" I asked him. "You think any of THAT was true?"</p><p>I could see he hadn't thought that, instead he had swallowed that tall tale hook, line, and sinker. But did he? </p><p>It was a while before they came hobbling out. I had to admit they looked like the sciatic flareup was still going on and that I believed, but all the rest of it . . . I dunno. I know Joe believes it is all truth, but being brought up in the land of Blarney, one can't believe everything they hear, eh?</p><p>Gabe</p><p><span face="Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif" style="background-color: #fff2cc; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-size: x-small;"><i>Copyright © 2023 All rights reserved</i></span></p>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-1629513365295794732023-02-18T11:56:00.008-05:002023-09-27T10:06:10.578-04:00Valentine's Day With The Neanderthals<p>18 February 2023</p><p>1091</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>Well now . . . Valentine's Day! Whoo-hoo it is supposed to be a day of romance -- that's what the ladies tell me, to me it's a day of spending big bucks on jewellery, candy, flowers, and dinner, oh and don't forget the champagne!</p><p>Every year I take the wife to our favourite little bistro in the woods for a 5-course luncheon. This is the highlight of her year, or so she tells me. Christmas, birthdays, and anniversaries just don't seem to carry the weight of Valentine's Day. No indeed, not with me wife. </p><p>I thought I was taking her out for an elegant lunch, at our favourite little place in the secluded woods where the food is always fabulous and the clientele be as classy as can be. </p><p>I made the reservations and as usual, we were a few minutes late (we are 5 minutes away from the bistro and always run late). The receptionist told us she would take us to our table the hostess was busy. When we got to the table, it wasn't ready. So much for being late, it didn't seem to matter. So we were ushered back to the reception area and within seconds the hostess appeared and said we could have our table even if it wasn't ready it was clean. The wife says under her breath to me, "It isn't like they weren't expecting us and this is the first seating of the day . . . so?"</p><p>I sighed and shook me head like it was terrible, yes it was, but I didn't care. As long as the food was coming my tum would be happy and full. </p><p>We were seated and the only thing missing were the bread and butter plates that were put down almost immediately. While we awaited our waitress to take our order I perused the room and at the table directly across from me, four teenaged lads, dressed like teenaged lads, you know the string and leather necklaces, bracelets, hoodies, ripped jeans, pimply faces, lots of hair, the whole lot. Everyone else was over the age of forty and dressed to the nines. Yes, my dear R. Linda, they stuck out like sore thumbs, and not only that they were LOUD. How they managed to alight in this upscale bistro was a mystery.</p><p>They were served gourmet crackers with a lovely homemade port wine cheese spread. They slathered the spread on the crackers which were shaped like butterflies, breaking the wings off as proof of their masculine strength. Crumbling wings were on the table and they swept them off to the floor. Not tidy folk for sure. I chuckled to meself and thought if this be any start I be ready to be entertained. </p><p>Next came the soup a lemon orzo number that I didn't particularly like but for the feta cheese chunks. The boyos also didn't like it as they voiced their opinions to each other not meaning I am sure for the rest of the diners to hear their critique. I did notice two of the four picked up the bowls and drank the soup. The other two left their soup on the table untouched since it wasn't their "thing."</p><p>The home-baked bread came next with a lovely garlic butter spread. The bread was a savoury loaf of warmth and the butter melted into it. I was getting ready to shove a bit into my piehole when I noticed the small loaves being tossed at the teenage table. I tell ya!</p><p>Salad appeared and it was tasty, or as the boyos loudly proclaimed, "SO GOOD!" That was until I looked over and saw a cucumber in hand being eaten like a potato chip and another with a hand in his salad bowl eating the lettuce that way without the aid of a salad fork; which was lying lonely at the side of his plate. I noticed the napkins were all balled up and lying on the table in a heap, so those were not used either.</p><p>Between the salad and the entree we had some merry shoving and punching at the table as fun was made of each other. I was watching this closely because a waitress had to pass by them rather closely carrying a loaded drink tray and I was of the mind it would be a matter of time before she and liquid went flying. And by the way, they had six or seven refills of cold and hot teas offered with the luncheon.</p><p>The entree arrived and there was a choice of cottage pie or a veggie ragout linguine. The troop had all decided on the Angus braised beef cottage pie, which was our choice as well and very delicious. It was not what you get at home, this was a classy take with piped potatoes on top and a winter carrot for decoration. The beef was as tender as butter and the gravy was to die for. I was so busy enjoying me meal I didn't look over at the antics across the way. </p><p>But I did on dessert. We were served a lovely bourbon pecan pie with whipped cream, berries, and a dollop of homemade vanilla bean ice cream. Before I had a bite I looked over to see the boyos eating the pie pizza style. No forks or spoons for them! Nah just good old Neanderthal-style eating. </p><p>Well, they weren't finished yet. The price per person runs around $30.00, not including tax and tip. I paid and was waiting for the waitress to come back with my receipt when I glanced across the way and saw that each had got his own bill. One says, "You should leave the trip." This was said to one of the others who nodded and looked like he was adding on a tip. </p><p>We were getting up to leave when the tipster said, "$4.75 should do it." </p><p>I took a double take, he was serious. This poor woman had waited on these cavemen more than any other table and they had to have a bill between all of them of $120 and they were leaving her a tiny tip. We started out and I whispered to Tonya in the hallway what I heard and she said she heard it too. I was all for going back in and leaving a tip for the waitress but the boyos were still at table with more drinks. Tonya didn't want me to embarrass them so we left for the gift shop next door. We waited a while for them to come out because I had every intention of going back and tipping that poor hardworking woman. But they didn't come out. </p><p>Tonya said maybe they were in the back doing the dishes. I sincerely hope so. This did make me wonder what our three boyos might be like out in public on their own. That night I watched them. The eldest knows to use a knife and fork, and the smaller one gets his meat cut up for him, but the middle son would have been right at home with the cavemen. He had a piece of roast beef he picked up on his fork without cutting it and tore into it. I looked at Ton and she looked at me and we just chalked it up to the "age" of The New Age Neanderthals, yuppers as the Weasil would say.</p><p>Gabe</p><p><span face="Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif" style="background-color: #fff2cc; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-size: x-small;"><i>Copyright © 2023 All rights reserved</i></span></p>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-31743501436140651032023-02-10T10:38:00.009-05:002023-10-13T10:40:01.306-04:00Oh For Heaven's Sake! Crazies In Me Family<p> 10 February 2023</p><p>1090</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>I will say, it has been a frustrating start to the year 2023. Not only have I been a nurse to my wife and her COVID, but I have also been a soccer mom to our kiddos. While the wife was down, I was running up and down the stairs with trays of food to keep her going, I was driving from one end of the kingdom to the other getting each kiddo to their after-school activity. On top of all this, the Dragon Lady decided to come to help and as you know by now she is no help at all, just another person yours truly has to put up with when the times are inconvenient. </p><p>Starting me off was my middle child Guido and the wrestling team. Yup, the kiddo be a brute of a lad and can take just about anyone down and does! Including me, in one fell swoop I found meself on the floor in the parlour after batting at his head playfully he got hold of my midsection, and wham, me big self was on the boards!</p><p>He did it playfully but I wasn't expecting a takedown. Sort of embarrassed me to be felled by a 14-year-old. This led to his older brother O'Hare thinking that looked like great fun and that he could do the same to brother Guido. Well, think again older brother. Now O'Hare is as tall as me and he's 16 but Guido is built like a bull, whereas O'Hare and I are long tall skinny guys. It took one second for Guid to turn O'Hare upside down and slam! Yup. So that was two of us looking foolish.</p><p>Anyway, Guido takes after your fancy of having different colour hair. He's been au naturale for a little over a year, but decided to go PURPLE! Yes, your favourite hair colour. He came down after school for his ride to a wrestling match. I hardly recognised the laddie. The purple was screaming bright and I'd never seen that shade before so I was a bit taken aback I was. He was very proud of it, his girlfriend who was visiting applied something to his dark locks and voile! She was grinning and looking very proud and yes, he has a girlfriend. </p><p>An aside here, all three of my kiddos have girlfriends. O'Hare, the eldest is with girlfriend number 2 which be a good thing because the first one looked and dressed just like him and I couldn't tell them apart. I know crazy for a parent not to be able to tell what child be theirs. The smallest one the 7-year-old (since pre-school), has been "in love" with Erin a wisp of a girl and they have playdates all the time since then and I will tell you they are inseparable. This bothers me the most, but what can I say? Guido, who be a middle school jock has girls galore and will tell you how he's the best-looking guy at school. I don't know who he is sometimes. This last gets his brother O'Hare in fits of ego blasting but that doesn't phase the middle lad in any way, shape, or form.</p><p>So, with me wearing sunglasses in order to drive to the competition, we get out and make our way into the gymnasium. The first person we meet is the coach. The man almost walked by us not recognising his star athlete. He blinked (probably because of the brightness emanating off Guido's head like a halo) and did a double-take, and then with eyes wide open (I don't know how he did that without going blind), he stopped and said, "Guido? Is that you?"</p><p>To which the young hooligan replies, "Yeah, I better be because I'm wearing his underwear."</p><p>I tell ya! </p><p>I was about to hit the bleachers and watch the matches, when I got a text message from cousin Sean, asking where I be, and I told him, so he said he was down at Dunks not far and would bring me a coffee and join me at the match. Just the person I didn't want to see because, well because. </p><p>About five minutes later, the match started, and Sean carrying two cups of joe. One was a large Dunkin's cup and the other was Starbucks. Hum, I thought, this is new. And if he was at Starbucks why didn't he get me coffee from there? I have in the past months discovered Dunks coffee isn't as tasty as it used to be and have been favouring Starbucks instead and Sean knows this. </p><p>He, of course, handed off the Dunks to me and took a sip of his Starbucks. I looked at him questioningly like wtf? </p><p>"Oh," says he, "Don't let this fool ya. I am not about to spend $7 bucks on Starbucks when I can get it for $5 at Dunks. I saved a Starbucks cup so I empty Dunks in it and everyone has no clue or be the wiser."</p><p>I just looked at him. There were no words, but these (said silently in my head), <i>"Sean, you are a cheap son of a b and pretentious to boot, if only you looked the part you arse."</i></p><p>The culmination of my evening was finding the Dragon had arrived at me house and was ensconced in my living room watching the telly and munching on homemade caramel popcorn. </p><p>She regaled me how she was glad she didn't come up when it was negative 11. And here I was thinking if she had I could have put her out and locked the door and then I'd have no more Dragon as the bane of my existence. Oh yes, those thoughts go through me demented mind as wishful thinking. </p><p>"It was a balmy 12 the next day," I told her. "Today it was like Florida, a warm 20 degrees."</p><p>She snorted at that, yes she did, a Dragon snort without the fire coming out of her nose. </p><p>She was watching Dr. Pol and one of the office vets, Dr. Brenda was on her way to administer aid to a reindeer. But Dragon didn't hear that. She turned to me and said this: "Why on earth would a veterinarian need to render aid to rain gear?" Oh no, I thought here we go. I corrected this and then the narrator on the program said, "There aren't too many veterinary hospitals that take reindeer as clients." </p><p>"WHAT?" Shouted the Dragon, "Do reindeer have tonsils?" Oi!</p><p>"NO, he said hospitals, not tonsils." I could see I was in for an evening I was. </p><p>She decided to switch channels and we were next watching the evening news. The presenter was in the middle of a story about Biden's border visit. And I got a confused look from Dragon as she looked at me and said, "Biden has a brother?" </p><p>"NO BORDER not brother!" I was exasperated.</p><p>This went one more crazy way when the presenter (on the same story) told about a bold woman making the trek from lower Venezuela, to the El Passo border, and was interrupted by Dragon in this way: "What's an old woman doing travelling alone and on foot all that way?"</p><p>I gave up and went to bed. Where I would like to stay until the Dragon goes home.</p><p>Gabe</p><p><span face="Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif" style="background-color: #fff2cc; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-size: x-small;"><i>Copyright © 2023 All rights reserved</i></span></p>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-21258606335284089062023-01-27T09:47:00.014-05:002023-11-12T09:57:48.072-05:00How many men does it take to make a pot of coffee27 January 2023<div><br /></div><div>1089</div><div><br /></div><div>R. Linda</div><div><br /></div><div>While I was at work today, back at me abode, Tonya discovered she had Covid. I was not surprised, she had a cold and was doing well until early this a.m. And that turn was all because of me dumbarse cousin Sean.</div><div><br /></div><div>Meanwhile, Sean got himself a dog, and instead of leashing his dog until it was used to its new home, he let it run free. The first time he did this was yesterday when I was at home. I heard this wild barking and looked out the window to see said dog romping like a gazelle in the snow, I mean leaping like a lord and having a great time. In the background was Sean running after his gazelle and yelling at it to come! Well, it didn't, it kept on going and into the woods. I knew if it caught the scent of a deer or fox it would be gone. Somehow he caught el doggie and came back to the house short of breath and exhausted from his morning doggy constitutional.</div><div><br /></div><div>This morning, he did it again, letting the dog free range while he was out brushing the snow off his car. Suddenly like a flash, the dog (who had been sticking around smelling the ground), took off like a bat out of hell and passed Sean down our long, long driveway out of sight. I was getting ready to leave for work and the next thing I knew me wife (who had been suffering from a serious case of congestion and fever), was running after said dog in her sweats in 32-degree weather. I was going outside to tell her I didn't think it a good idea and that she should let the dog's owner worry about it since he did not feel the need to leash his dog, and he had no job and had the entire day or week possibly to look for his animal.</div><div><br /></div><div>The next thing I see, she jumps in her car and takes off, with no coat, runny nose, cold weather, and an unheated vehicle with Sean in his truck right behind her. She went left and he went right and I was gobsmacked. She found the dog two houses over and by that in city terms two long blocks away. I chided her but she said I knew Sean was incapable and well she didn't want anything to happen to el dog. To which I said I didn't want anything to happen to her, but the dog won.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then, I found out this afternoon Tonya tested positive for Covid. Am I surprised? Hell no! And I found out it was Sean who told her to get out of bed and help him, and then later, to jump in her car and help him round up the runaway dog. He knew she had a heavy cold, so I gave him a piece of my mind when I next saw him. </div><div><br /></div><div>While I was still at work, Tonya requested a cup of coffee from Guido who was home early because of bad weather. He went to the kitchen and found Sean rifling through the refrigerator, and me sainted grey-haired, little apple-cheeked Mam trying to prepare an Irish stout pie for dinner. It seems every time she is preparing a meal Sean comes in and interrupts her harmonious flow of dinner prep. Well, now she had Guido in there requesting she drop what she was doing and brew a pot of coffee. You know what she said don't you so I don't have to repeat it. Stymied, Guido turned to Sean who was more than happy to brew a pot since the sick person had captured his dog.</div><div><br /></div><div>To be fair Mam was going to make the coffee but she was smack in the middle of making pudding and if she stopped where she was, the pudding would have been ruined and she was almost finished.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mam told me that never in her life had she witnessed such incompetence. Sean told Guido to fill the empty carafe with water -- all the way to the top, forgetting it has a water line at 12 cups. Mam tsked at them and said not to overfill it, it would pour out all over her clean floor. The carafe was still over the 12-cup mark, but no matter to her, she'd hand whomever a mop. Sean opened the top of the coffee maker and told Guido to pour the water in. Then he showed him the button that turns the burner on. This was all done without coffee grounds in the filter. Mam shouted to stop and shut it down and get coffee in the filter so the thing would brew. OH YEAH, DUH. This they did, trying to figure out how many scoops to put in for 13 or so cups of coffee. Try three or four Guido was told by Sean and me Mam pipped up to try one more! Then once the coffee was brewed it was into a cup and how many sugars? Do three and a splash of cream Sean instructed the young laddie.</div><div><br /></div><div>When Mam saw Guido spoon in TABLESPOONS she said it was too much and the wrong spoon! Sean's reaction was Tonya liked sweet coffee. How would he know? And no she does not. However, her sense of taste and smell is gone, so maybe she didn't know about all that sugar. I don't really know what Tonya thought, but she did order a second cup, only when Mam went to pour it, it was stone cold because fool that he be, Sean had turned to machine off!</div><div><br /></div><div>I will say we have had some interesting dinners. Sean's got radar when it comes to me Mam in the kitchen preparing a meal. She said he talks up a storm about nothing and confuses her about ingredients and she has had some tried and true dinners turn into disasters because of this. </div><div><br /></div><div>I take it the dog is going out leashed, I've heard nothing more about it. The dinner situation is still in jeopardy because of Sean homing in on Mam every time she's in the kitchen. He adds ingredients when she isn't looking. That usually delicious Irish stout pie -- he had heaped brown sugar into it to make it sweeter. It had the sweetness of apple pie, it was RUINED, but he enjoyed it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Gabe</div><div><span face="Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif" style="background-color: #fff2cc; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-size: x-small;"><i>Copyright © 2023 All rights reserved</i></span></div>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-83517674429613046122023-01-22T14:01:00.007-05:002023-12-08T10:29:16.395-05:00Instructions Are On Medicine Labels For A Purpose<p> 22 January 2023</p><p>1088</p><p>R. Linda:</p><p>Me Mam's old cat has kidney disease, yes she does. And so, me Mam got an appetite stimulant and special canned food for the old gal, who be a skinny representation of her old self. The stimulant is a paste you rub into the cat's ear and voila, instant hungry time. The cat usually lies sedentary in Mam's lap, but on that first day of medicine in the ear, that cat was up every 15 minutes with its face in the food dish. Now when you rub the paste in, you (the human) should wear gloves. Me Mam, more concerned for the cat didn't think why one might do that. Her initial thought was it was a medicine that humans should not have on them, so wash their hands. It says on the instructions to wear latex gloves when applying medication. She forgot or was too busy.</p><p>On what was the second day of application I noticed me Mam's behaviour had become very busy in the kitchen. Because of the storm we had, Mam had cooked up a storm of her own and I thought that was nice of her until I noticed she was eating as much as she cooked! I even joked at her that perhaps she had a tapeworm and should have her wee self checked out, I did.</p><p>This outrageous appetite of hers went on all day into the night. At three in the morn, I came down to someone banging around the kitchen (thinking it was Sean), to find me grey-haired, apple-cheeked little Mam feasting, yes R. Linda, feasting on leftovers! She AND the cat who was eating a 6th supper. I went back to bed thinking it would have been nice if she had left at least one slice of the gigantic cheesecake she had made for moi.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5HqMsd0J8mxJHkoJAKHOJye0kzTolzDZHgSWkMISOx-TWerDs1Cfvn2-ynHBRhJGZo2-9X5aYd8wYbBqdjBdPlTbneL-L1vpAHb7ZfIeKfu_nUgiiJfsOyirq9K-AiaQO4VOrJjnn8wpUFbEBjjEeZdfSAHK1dAEqGGiZKZMdKiSiA7oDBf5pAdEfkw/s8064/TexasCheesecake%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8064" data-original-width="6048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5HqMsd0J8mxJHkoJAKHOJye0kzTolzDZHgSWkMISOx-TWerDs1Cfvn2-ynHBRhJGZo2-9X5aYd8wYbBqdjBdPlTbneL-L1vpAHb7ZfIeKfu_nUgiiJfsOyirq9K-AiaQO4VOrJjnn8wpUFbEBjjEeZdfSAHK1dAEqGGiZKZMdKiSiA7oDBf5pAdEfkw/w300-h400/TexasCheesecake%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><i>Just look at the size of this thing, she ate almost all of it but what she shared after dinner</i></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p>The next morning I was walking passed her and saw she was applying the medicine to the cat. I noticed she wasn't wearing gloves. She finished and went to the sink to wash her hands. Apparently, that isn't enough one needs as a barrier. </p><p>"Aha!" I said. "That explains YOUR appetite taking off. You need to wear gloves or no amount of washing up is going to remove that paste from YOU."</p><p>She looked stunned. She started nodding as realisation dawned. </p><p>All day long she tried to combat her strong urge to raid the refrigerator. She even asked me to tell Sean to get a big chain with a lock to put around the doors. I wasn't about to do that, so I guarded the fridge the entire day and it was a struggle, not to sit there and guard, but pry her hands off the door handles while she kicked at me shins to get me out of her way. </p><p>So let that be a lesson when applying appetite stimulant to your cat's ear, wear gloves or you will be very sorry when you get on the scale and see you have gained more weight than you ever thought possible!</p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Gabe</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif" style="background-color: #fff2cc; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-size: x-small;"><i>Copyright © 2023 All rights reserved</i></span></span></p><p><br /></p>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4104081594576377065.post-76182255959129871462023-01-12T18:31:00.017-05:002023-12-08T10:44:14.501-05:00Me Birthday Filled With Sour People And A Birthday Cake I Needed a Magnifying Glass To See<p><span style="font-size: medium;">12 January 2023</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">1087</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">R. Linda:</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">If there is one thing I am superstitious about it is leaving the Christmas decorations up past the 2nd of January. I don't know where I got this crazy notion from, but all my life I've felt if the decorations are still up by my birthday (12 days after the New Year), bad luck is coming my way!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">This year I started to take the decorations down on the second of January as be me usual practice. Only because I was somewhat physically disabled I couldn't do all of it. I was at the mercy of whoever was around and we know the kiddos weren't helping because if they could, those decorations would be up all year round. My wife helped a bit but complained of headache and me Mam be a short person like yourself, so she can't reach very high and because of my arm weakness, I can't either even though I am over six feet tall!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">So not everything was put up. Every day I'd get some Christmas something and throw it in the plastic bin to go to the attic. The tree was undecorated but still in the lounge so that was my main focus. I asked that lazy good-for-nothing Sean to take it out but he has yet to do it. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">So it was a</span><span style="font-size: medium;">nother birthday that has come and gone, sigh. But what a strange day it was and I blame it on the tree still standing in the lounge! I got up and was given birthday wishes and regards by the inhabitants of the house and off they went on their merry ways. I took meself to the lounge to enjoy me cup of joe and wake up, which is what I usually do on mornings I have off from work. Yes, I was off because I consider my birthday me national holiday. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I was vegging and sipping joe when I spied that tree, completely naked of decor and ready to go. I narrowed me eyes and muttered to it how much bad luck I was in for. I know talking to inanimate objects be a sign of unhinging. Then in bounced me Mam who informed me we were going out to lunch (her treat), for me big day. Never one to refuse food I got meself up, got showered and dressed and off we went, cursing Sean and the tree as I went out the door. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I was informed that after luncheon, we were going grocery shopping because my little grey-haired, apple-cheeked Mam needed help carrying the goodies from the market to the car and then from the car to the kitchen. No problem, as incapacitated as I was I had started physical therapy and was doing quite well. However, going to the greengrocer was not the way I wanted to spend me big day.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">We went to an eatery that we'd never been to for luncheon. It was a grill that had taken over an old McDonald's building that had been there for a few years and had pretty good reviews. Mam pointed at the sign out front that said, "Kids eat free!" Well, we were in a jolly mood and as the owner came up to greet us, she informed him I was her kid and so I should eat free. He laughed and said, "Is that the way it is now?" So we three being in a generally jovial mood went into the dining area where we were seated next to an open space where we could see another dining room next to the one we were seated in. It was packed with people, and I said to Mam it looked like a party.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">She looked soberly at me and shook her head, "No I tink it be a funeral dere, Gabriel. Dot would explain all da dark clothes an' somber looks." And she was right. Just then I saw our waitress a young thing in her early twenties who had her arms crossed over her chest, looking straight at me with a glare on her face. I looked behind me to see if she was glaring at someone behind me but there wasn't anyone, so must be me! She turned on her heel and went into the kitchen. She came back with the same attitude glaring at yours truly and then popping into the kitchen once again. Meanwhile, we looked over the menu. She came out again, same thing, and I looked at her inquiringly like are you going to take our order? Well, she put her arms down, grabbed her order book, and pushed off like coming to us was the last thing she wanted to do.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Whadda ya want to drink?" Yup, no hi, my name is Myrtle, and I will be your server. Nah, just whadda ya want. Well, we ordered 2 cokes and I told her we were ready to order if that was ok. She sighed like it was an imposition, and started scribbling on her pad. I ordered for us both and she left without a word.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Is it me?" I asked Mam.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"No dear, it's her. Got a bug up her behind because the waitress in the funeral room will be getting a lot of tips and here she be regulated to serving us since we be the only ones here."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Yeah, if we weren't there she'd have found a way into the next room to help out and make more money than she would with just the two of us. That seemed a plausible assessment.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Someone from the kitchen served us, but I saw this person do the same with customers in the front dining room as well. I guess our waitress only took orders and plunked drinks down. Finally, as we were finishing up our waitress came up with a big smile and handed me the bill. I saw how it was, we were leaving and she could get into the other room. Mam grabbed the bill and wagged her finger at me, not to think about paying for the meal, it was her treat. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Are you leaving her a dollar for all the sunshine she bestowed upon us?" I quipped. "Not even a -- can I refill your glass, is everything all right . . .?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Nooo, but it will be 15%, not 20 for the poor attitude and she did nuthin' but bring us cokes and a sour face!" I don't know if she did leave that or what, though for a minute I imagined in my mind the sour-faced lass waving a dollar bill at us shouting so the world would hear her, "Thanks for nothing! Don't come back anytime soon!" Be that didn't happen so I surmised Mam was nice despite the sourness. I was just glad to be out in the fresh air away from the sombre people next to us and the sour waitress. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Free from all that we continued on to the market and I pushed the cart while Mam threw what she wanted in. We got to the checkout and it started all over again the negative attitudes of people serving us. Mam had put her groceries on the conveyor belt in a certain order, like dairy all together, snacks all together, etc. The checker looks and says to her, "You need to rearrange your items they will take out my cash register the way you have them."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Huh? Normally a checker takes the first item, ticks it off, and slides it down a small ramp to the bagger and on it goes. I was puzzled but said nothing as me Mam took three jugs of milk and proceeded to move them across the counter out of the way of the cash register which seemed crazy to me. One of the jugs fell over and when the checker picked it up to scan there was dripping. This was pointed out not by me Mam, but by the young bagger lad who offered to go get another, but the checker said, "No, don't trouble it is just condensation."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Obviously, it was not, and Mam said as much.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Hon, get that roll of paper towels next to you will ya, and let's clean the condensation off the milk."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Hon" was not something you called me Mam and I saw her eyes narrow.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I was like NO DON'T YOU DARE GET THOSE PAPER TOWELS, the bagger should be doing that OR Ms. Checker should have a roll under her counter. Mam was quick not only did she wipe that jug of milk off she cleaned the counter! I was stunned to silence watching this. Meanwhile, we had a few people queuing up behind us also watching the show.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Well, an argy ensued between me Mam, and the checker on the fact the jug WAS leaking, and then the bagger took me Mam's side and he left abruptly and brought back another jug. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Holding the leaking jug up the checker says to him, "So what do I do with this now? It's leaking all over me and the floor!" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"So ya admit it's leakin' now do ya?" Me Mam snaps. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The checker gave her a look and checked the rest of the items. It came time to pay, Mam whipped out her bank card and the machine decided not to work or recognise the card. The bagger told her the machine was on the fritz all day and just keep trying it would eventually start reading. Well, the checker was looking at Mam's wallet and pointing to cards in the wallet suggesting she try that one and then if that one didn't work, try another. Well, this set Mam off. She got her cash and paid that way because she was so pissed off. Words were muttered under breaths and we started off. As we got to where the store manager was lounging she said loudly, "Dat woman shouldn't be in dat job she's ornery and rude." That got his lounging attention as he looked from us to the checker who was busy harassing the next customer. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I said to Mam as we were putting the bags in the car, "You know it could have been worse, she could have told you to have each item facing the scanner," and I laughed.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Oh fur sure and I'd have knocked her in the nose I would have," she said getting feisty.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I was surprised she was as restrained as she had been. Me Mam be not known for an even temper. When her Irish be up, it is way up it be. However, she restrained herself in honour of my big day, uh-huh.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Everything calmed down, we got home and put the groceries away, and she made us both tea and got scones and clotted cream with raspberry jam ready. We were laughing and having a good time when her phone rang. It was Tonya. She had stopped to pick up the birthday cake. Mam had her on speakerphone so I could hear the conversation.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"I think there is a problem with the cake. It is micro size." She said.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Micro size? I ordered a 6-person cake I did." Mam informed her.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Well, if we were a family of hobbits that might do." Tonya laughed. "But no, really this is like 6" of cake."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Nooo, can't be. Just coom home wit it." Mam instructed to Tonya's audible sigh.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I had to laugh when I saw the cake, there was no place to write Happy Birthday Gabe on it, and we each got a sliver. Yes, we did! I had wanted a pina colada cake and I got one, even if it was more a personal cake than one for 6 people! I told them not to load it with candles, they'd melt the thing. When they told me to make a wish, I said, "I wish for a bigger cake!" and then was told because I wished out loud me wish wouldn't come true. Such helps they be.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Just blow out the candle," the youngest moaned, he was all about my presents.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"I have to take me time because one good blow on the candle and it will slide across the counter and you will be wearing it," I said, and then I made me wish and we cut slivers so we all got a bite, sadly no leftovers.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">So here be me BIG cake, that afforded us nothing but laughs for the rest of the night. </span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgENHBkjhoya5kus9DLplXLFuYQt1ozXc4bjgUzMN7jXG1bqf75nNHmxJz0Ewqb5CQygt8QedsyeI3NWLR4jiEuLNZTVaEVeAlt6nAsd3TLMYH23eLMtyFG3vRhKhIDUxUN2MDnbyRAJjIEoyJTEiEVGzBZ1FUroL6yc_tUiVv_9tiu2_F5FhL48tBGfw/s3078/MircoCake%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3078" data-original-width="2508" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgENHBkjhoya5kus9DLplXLFuYQt1ozXc4bjgUzMN7jXG1bqf75nNHmxJz0Ewqb5CQygt8QedsyeI3NWLR4jiEuLNZTVaEVeAlt6nAsd3TLMYH23eLMtyFG3vRhKhIDUxUN2MDnbyRAJjIEoyJTEiEVGzBZ1FUroL6yc_tUiVv_9tiu2_F5FhL48tBGfw/w326-h400/MircoCake%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="326" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Yessiree, a birthday cake that I will never forget! It be just a tad bigger than the water glass!</i></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">It wasn't until a little bit ago I realised that bad luck was beginning because of the Christmas tree still standing in the lounge and that me experiences of the day, ME DAY were the result! So this evening I got after Sean like a dog nipping at heels. He promises me that it will be out of here and me luck should change. Remains to be seen if either happens. It is too late so I be doomed with no luck until next year.</span><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Oqxq9AGiay4NHU62FB5OC_2T_4GAHKX7D4MimT5qDWzO2tXw1B0ieD04pCuJfqJ80KZgeTnlzc80v5iO1Yci4OBExrYwe3dnTNMxRK4jRz0Z_dZgNTYiF-QEMHeAnWX_0x8SW9hkp-HLNCa3D82UkdQRt94-ZiGLyNBqQJVAUTPGiXerKGkr2-1K1w/s7542/Tree%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="7542" data-original-width="4418" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Oqxq9AGiay4NHU62FB5OC_2T_4GAHKX7D4MimT5qDWzO2tXw1B0ieD04pCuJfqJ80KZgeTnlzc80v5iO1Yci4OBExrYwe3dnTNMxRK4jRz0Z_dZgNTYiF-QEMHeAnWX_0x8SW9hkp-HLNCa3D82UkdQRt94-ZiGLyNBqQJVAUTPGiXerKGkr2-1K1w/w234-h400/Tree%20-%20%F0%9F%87%AE%F0%9F%87%AA%20%C2%A9%20Copyright%202023%20Irish%20Memories.jpg" width="234" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>And there it remains</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Gabe</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif" style="background-color: #fff2cc; caret-color: rgb(41, 48, 59); color: #29303b; font-size: x-small;"><i>Copyright © 2023 All rights reserved</i></span></span></p></div>Gabriel O'Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03719427085626357972noreply@blogger.com3