It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time, Meanwhile, At The Flower Show

31 March 2025

Story #1133

R. Linda:

Ah, yes, when it rains, it pours, but it shouldn't do that inside the house. But it did. Let me tell you a little about the abode. While it is a lovely home, it has taken us some years to find it isn't all it was said to be. Yes indeed. The former owners, an airline pilot/preacher man of God with a hippy wimpy wife and ten kiddos, cleaned the home up for sale in the cheapest way possible. (See When Is A Radon System Not A Radon System 14 September 2016) and (Dream House? Nah, Money Pit 05 June 2017). Through the ten years we have lived here, we have had to replace many things we never thought we would in the time we've been here. Most of it is things you don't see, like radon systems, furnaces, etc., and some you do, like every single appliance in the kitchen. 

Right now, we are dealing with sinks that don't drain well and faucets that don't have water. At first, we thought this was caused by the drought. Then, after the water softener was serviced and things slowed even more, we thought the serviceman might not have turned the water on to full force. However, we are finding those thoughts don't add up. We have all concluded that the pipes are full of gunk, keeping the water from flowing and draining. We had this problem in a lesser way when we first moved in, so no surprise.

O'Hare thought he could fix the problem in his and Guido's bathroom by buying new sink fixtures. I said go ahead if you think you know how, and he seemed to think he did. He bought a lovely brushed nickel faucet and drain and went to it. He did an excellent job and has one more to go since they have a double sink. Meanwhile, Mam muttered about her double sink and said one did not work. Hearing this, O'Hare, fresh from plumbing success, offered to clean the drain and see if he couldn't tighten the lines and get that sink to work. He got under the sink and, with a flashlight, perused the lines and declared whoever put the workings in was a moron. 

"Must be the same person that did mine!" He declared. 

"Well, kin ye fix it?" Mam asks.

"Yup, I connected the lines because they weren't connected and cleared the drain, but it's missing a ring, so I will get that and put it in tomorrow, and you'll be good to go."

Hum, if the kiddo is this good at plumbing, he should look at the laundry room sink and see if that needs clearing because the faucet stopped working, and well, it doesn't drain. Sure, said he. He told me in his best plumber voice that I should consider replacing the faucet and drain like he did. The system wouldn't work because the same moron put in cheap fixtures and didn't know what they were doing when they tried hooking everything up. Well, OK. 

The new fixtures

So Tonya picked a lovely brushed gold waterfall faucet and left it to O'Hare to install. 

Meanwhile, there was an orchard show in the Gate City that Mam wanted to go to. Every year in Belfast, there is a flower show (primarily roses), and Mam never missed a year. However, since moving across the pond, she has pined for a flower show; finally, one arrived this year, and it's a do-not-miss-it event for her. 

There was no way I was going with her, so I sort of shoved Tonya in her direction and bingo, off they went to springtime in Nashua. 

As they were leaving, Tonya told O'Hare she was excited to see her new fixtures when she returned. He smiled big and said, "No problem, Ma." 

I saw he had on his tool belt (a very professional laddie), had opened the box, and was reading the directions. I told him I was around if he needed help. He thanked me and went on reading. I sat in the lounge, looking at me phone, when he entered the laundry room and started working. A few minutes later, I heard cursing to wake the dead.

As I got up to see what was the matter, I heard water flowing at an alarming rate, and when I looked in the room, the floor looked like an ocean. 

"Turn the water off!" He screamed at me in a panic. "I can't turn it off here; it is broken!"

I ran down the basement, and damn if I knew where the water turnoff was. I ran around the basement, getting soaked, looking for anything that looked like a water turnoff. Water was coming down from the top floor like a waterfall. Finally, I found a section of valve handles. I turned the first one off, and thank God that was the ONE! Meanwhile, the water is raining through the floor from upstairs onto the pool table, the bar top, the floor, the furniture . . . 

Luckily, O'Hare was in the laundry room, took Tonya's clean towels, and started mopping up. I got anything that would hold water under the drips, which were really torrents, and suddenly, Guido appeared with towels, which I suppose O'Hare told him to take to me in the basement. When he saw the pool table getting a soaking, he went berserk. I mean, he lost it! It was no big deal that his Da was looking like a drowned rat; it was the sacred pool table that was important. That behaviour didn't help matters. While all this cursing, upstairs and downstairs, was going on, the rain shower in the basement began to slow, and the ocean was wrung out and towels put in the washer. 

I sent Guido to his room to shut him up because all that was happening was upsetting enough. We had a sufficient flood that if that valve wasn't shut off, we would live in an ark. The pool table was not damaged; it had a waterproof cover and was fine, not that that can be said for Moi, who was a dripping mess. I checked it, so the pool shark is now reassured that all is well and that he can keep hustling his friends. 

At the flower show, Mam was in seventh heaven. She dragged Tonya to this display and that display and talked her ear off about orchards, which Tonya had zero interest in. But she made the most of it, she said. She was happy to see Mam animated over something she loved, and the flowers were beautiful. She said she found herself increasingly interested in the exhibitions as they went along. After the first half hour, Tonya said the arena was becoming crowded and, at some exhibits, elbow to elbow and slow going because some enthusiasts would linger over the displays and tout their knowledge in loud voices everyone could hear. Having enough of that, Mam led Tonya over to an aisle of tables that were filled with flowers one could purchase. Just as Tonya was about to read the card describing the flowers she was thinking of buying, a man stepped between her and the table and stood there watching his wife a table over. 

"What the heck?" Tonya muttered to Mam, who shrugged. 

Tonya moved around him but couldn't get to the flowers she was interested in, so she moved along. 

"Surely, he knew I was looking at those orchards." She said to Mam.

"I dunno, dese old people are set in dere ways." That was all Mam could offer as she sighed in resignation, completely forgetting she was one of the "old people. "He was a rude one, he was," she threw in as an afterthought.

The orchards Tonya was trying to read about

As they perused the tables, Tonya leaned forward to read about an orchard she was thinking of purchasing, with 12" between her and the table, when some woman put her head in front of Tonya's to read the card that Tonya had been reading, but no more. Me poor wife could see nothing but the back of the woman's head.  Neither Ton nor Mam had the orchards they wanted but came away thinking how rude "flower people" are, especially orchard aficionados. 

They stopped for coffee and thought, "Nah, we need something stronger after that experience." If I had known I would have joined them, I needed something strong too! I think my sloshing around in hot and, I mean, HOT water made for a horror of an afternoon compared to old people who probably can't see. That's why they stepped in where they weren't wanted and had their heads glued to the exhibition cards because they were nearly blind. Me only question was why neither Ton nor Mam said anything to these clueless people. Neither are known for holding their tongues. Instead, speaking their mind can be long and loud.

Well, they are home admiring the orchards they did buy and none the wiser about the flood on the first floor and the rain shower in the basement. Though Tonya could swear that she had washed and dried all her towels before she left. O'Hare did tell her the hot water valve under the sink was broken, so he couldn't install the fixtures. I am looking for plumbers since I know we are out of our depth in the plumbing business. BIG WET SIGH.

Gabe

Copyright © 2025 All rights reserved

Patrick Update (Or Non-Date NUMBER 2)

31 July 2011

436

R. Linda:

Okay, I have been meaning to give you an update on our dear friend Patrick and this be the first I've had a chance. Well, things have progressed down the road since last we 'spoke' on this situation of trying to fix the good-looking bloke up with a pretty American girl. As you know the effort has been unsuccessful because Patrick still insists upon dressing (according to me) like he works in the mail room and if you'd rather as Maureen says, like he just stepped off the sinking Titanic. Either way, the lad has NOT listened to either of us on that score. BUT, Maureen has plans for the laddie, yes she does in the form of one Genie McNally.

Enter Mary Alice McGuinness, yes a newbie who is one nervous young woman who when she's around me makes me nervous too! She has this jumpy way about her she does. You ask her a question and it's like she has been a million miles away in thought and she jumps, yes she does, jumps like suddenly she's been noticed and it's not a good thing. She makes me jump when she jumps and well sitting there having a conversation with her, I be sure anyone passing by would think us two Mexican/Irish jumping beans. Maureen says she doesn't jump she twitches. Just as bad.

Anyway, Mary Alice is a red-haired, freckled-faced Irish/Brazilian lass. Yes, R. Linda, she be not from Ireland, she be from Brazil! Who knew? She speaks English with a Spanish accent she does and it is most disturbing somehow. So anyway, SHE does work in the mail room. There you have it, instant attraction for young Patrick since he already has the mail room 'look' going for his handsome self and well so does she!

Now since last May Maureen has been busy trying to fix the laddie up. She has a friend named Genie McNally who is a pretty lass (I've seen pictures), but Genie has not arrived yet. She's working on her doctorate at UCLA and won't be here for another month. Maureen has been talking up Genie to Patrick and vice-versa and so far so good she told me.

I had to warn Maureen about this, I did. I told her there was a new young thing in the mail room and I thought she looked as stereotypical Irish as a stereotypical Irish lass could be (that was before I knew she be from Brazil). And, it be a matter of time before our young bucko discovered her. Now Maureen gave that pishtosh thing she does, or at least has started to do (no clue where she's picked that awful trait up) and said, "Gabriel, PISHTOSH, he's not DAT stoopid!"

Well, seems he be. So when I saw Miss Mary Alice with a mail cart the other day leaning over Patrick's cubicle, I KNEW, yes I KNEW just what was happening and I jumped up and ran on over to greet Missy Maureen as she was coming back from copy.

"Look! Just look over dere will ya." I pointed because neither one of the subjects I was pointing at was looking at me, they were too engrossed in flirting with each other.

"Oh my," said a stunned Maureen, "we can't 'ave DAT. I 'ave Genie all geared up for dat sod."

"We can't?" I said stunned at Maureen. "Wot ya gonna do aboot DAT?" I said still pointing.

"Well . . . I dunno but we 'ave to do someting quick or he'll be lost and wot will Genie tink?" She said as we both went back to our respective cubicles and sat facing each other.

"What about Annie O'Reilly?" I asked, "We need ta get Annie oop here so the lad can have a better choice, or so he'll tink, an' when she breaks oop the attraction for Mary Alice, free and clear for your Genie to waltz in and pluck him off da vine (so to speak)."

"Oh no, not Annie O'Reilly she'd jump ten naked men ta git to the bar she would."

I hadn't thought of that, but yeah that be true, she would, she was fixated on alcohol and not much else. And the problem with Annie was too, that when she was not drunk she was sober. Think about that.

"Uh how about Molly McHugh, she's a looker and a breaker up of couples?" I thought, now there was a little-known lass down in the bowels of the news business, she was a junior reporter, not very pretty, but she was an Irish-American girl with a good sense of how to dress and nothing she liked more than making a man look ridiculous in front of other women BECAUSE she didn't like men. I know we be pulling at straws but we couldn't have our Patrick wasted.

"Hum . . . Molly McHugh. Ah sure an she's not the worst of dem," Maureen mused, "tink of someone else dere Gabriel, she won't do. She's too ambitious and aggressive for our Patrick, she'll be so brutal he'll be on a booat back to Ireland."

"Yeah you're rioght," I sighed. "How aboot Rosemary McKinnney?"

"McKinney? Of the McKinney sisters? Rosemary and Brigit? Being Rosemary the worst of the two? Nooo." She said to me look of horror. "Well, truly dere Gabe, ye knoe we're a fair race we never speak well of each utter! She'd eat em' alive."

"Okay," I said, "den Patty Malone?"

"How would dat be, two of 'em being referred ta as Patty," Maureen said in all seriousness. "And Patty Malone's idea of romance be poppin' a Murphy's Stout away from her face. No, she'd be too interested in wot he's drinkin' then tryin' to turn his head."

"Well den, I dunno. Who we gonna git?" I was out of names. Then it dawned on me. "Maureen . . ." I started carefully, "We could get your sister Rose for an encore just to break DAT up."

Maureen's eyes went wide. I thought they'd pop out of her head but she thought about it. Do you remember the last time we rolled Rose out and what a disaster she and Patrick ended up being? (Refer to 24/05/2011 The Irish Dating Service Continues To Function in this blog for the Patrick/Rose date that went so wrong).

"Do ye knoe how SHE refers ta Patrick? She tells anyone who asks that he's very good to his mooter, he never leaves home. Now wot does dat tell ya? She's not goin' ta wanna have a second so-called non-date again."

"But didn't you tell me she likes breakin' fella's chops and I be tinkin' she might enjoy breakin' DAT oop. Ya knoe yer sissy can be malicious when it suits her, git em' back for a second terrible non-date." I said like the villain I was fast becoming.

Maureen's eyes sparkled. Oh yeah, she knew her sister be up for the job. She put a finger in the air in a wait-a-minute gesture and got on her phone. I sat silently listening to the one-sided conversation Maureen was having with Rose.

"And why not?" Maureen said to I was guessing Rose's refusal. She held the phone out so I could hear Rose say, "He's slow! It probably takes him an hour and a half ta watch 60 Minutes!"

"Oh dat's not true," I whispered but Rose heard me and shouting into the receiver at me she said, "Gabe, Patrick has aboot as mooch personality as a piece of wet lettuce and futer his brain be like a place lacking light, ye could say it's as dark as a bag in dere."

I glanced over at poor maligned Patrick. Mary Alice was long gone and I shook me head at that last, poor laddie was not dim, just needed some help. I know I said I wouldn't do this ever again, but I don't know what it was that took me over to help a fellow countryman out. AGAIN.

"Ya could swing a cat in dere," Rose shouted.

I sighed as Maureen said to her sister, "I guess that's a resounding no?" Silence ensued. We both waited, me crossing fingers, Maureen her eyes.

Maureen's face broke out in a huge smile and she nodded at me and hung up.

"She's reluctant but she said if we can git the two of em' over to the pub on Fleet Street she'd be all for givin' it a go. Rose doesn't like Genie and would luv nuttin' mere den ta see em' both togeter. She tinks dey would make each other miserable, but I don't tink dat, I tink Genie be exactly wot Patrick needs to wake oop."

And so Maureen went to Patrick and I went to Mary Alice and we both extended an invite to the pub after work. Mary Alice was reluctant until I told her I thought Patrick was going and then instant acceptance and I knew, yes I did, she had set her sights on our Patrick and more than ever Maureen and I (busybodies extraordinaire of the Irish Dating Service) needed to get Rose over there to pave the way for Genie O'Nally who is expected within the month. Oi!

To be continued

Gabe
Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved