tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344277892024-03-05T10:43:57.177-06:00The Real Jenn C.Sometimes a Manic Hobgoblin gets the better of me. I live in a sweet, old house in central Austin. I travel a few times each year. I have too many pets, and love each one more than the next.Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comBlogger651125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-29066370106668636712024-02-11T18:01:00.001-06:002024-02-12T12:16:19.825-06:00Manic Hobgoblin's 2024 Resolutions<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/AVvXsEiSbEfi5pt4G3rQb0Z2dBhKpwkIb0Jm29a7fQwoOKHhJHBxZyU2ss62Fsx4o74u7sZulaCmfgcj0lbwNc041pXM5YuzMoDjJ0UlrpLnIlCEwFeH0rhdc6YtacnUJBALKreha4Lu5WeNqadUXHst3ArURXvK3yJ8T5TKQ8acm9PnorwKWdcCtqUJsg/s4032/IMG_1823.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSbEfi5pt4G3rQb0Z2dBhKpwkIb0Jm29a7fQwoOKHhJHBxZyU2ss62Fsx4o74u7sZulaCmfgcj0lbwNc041pXM5YuzMoDjJ0UlrpLnIlCEwFeH0rhdc6YtacnUJBALKreha4Lu5WeNqadUXHst3ArURXvK3yJ8T5TKQ8acm9PnorwKWdcCtqUJsg/w300-h400/IMG_1823.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cute pic of one of my cats, unrelated to this post.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Manic Hobgoblin (the unhinged, hyper-aspirational, hyper-achieving, status-obsessed, multi-hyphenate voice that sometimes lives in my head rent-free) formulated his 2024 resolutions last month. Unfortunately for Manic Hobgoblin, he claims that he was at a silent retreat without wifi, and could not communicate with me, his humble (and very reluctant) assistant, to post these resolutions until now. (I think he was actually in jail, or maybe filming a reality TV show, and they took his phone away from him.) Also, Manic Hobgoblin read a <i>New York Times</i> article about February actually being the best month for resolutions, so he figures now is the optimal time to release his 2024 resolutions. (I suspect he only read the headline, because when I asked him why February is the best month for resolutions, he gave zero reasons, and left the room while tapping on his smart watch as if late for a very important date.)</p><p>So, without further ado, but with grave reservations, and multiple implied disclaimers, here are Manic Hobgoblin's 2024 New Year Resolutions:</p><p>1. Trademark every marketing phrase he can think of. It's called passive income. When one of the phrases is used, the money will roll in. (Editor's note: Nope. Not how that works. The paperwork and fees to trademark phrases is a lot, and most applications for trademarks are denied. The lawyer's fees and time invested to then enforce those trademarks will also be a lot.)</p><p>2. Start a bunch of short term rentals in hot tourist destinations. Also passive income, because Manic Hobgoblin will charge the renters all sorts of fees, but make them fully clean the place, and prepare it for the next round of guests. (Editor's note: This will fail. Mortgage loan rates are pretty high now, and Manic Hobgoblin doesn't have enough liquid assets to buy properties with cash purchase. Short term rentals are in their flop era due to predatory and unscrupulous operators such as Manic Hobgoblin. Short term rentals are also a scourge to many otherwise quiet neighborhoods, and the general affordability of housing, so many cities and neighborhoods are stepping up rules, regulations, and enforcement against short term rentals. Manic Hobgoblin is too late to this game.)</p><p>3. Jazzercise! Twice a week. (Editor's note: This seems fine.)</p><p>4. Drink four gallons of water a day exclusively from limited edition Stanley tumblers. (Editor's note: <a href="https://www.webmd.com/diet/what-is-too-much-water-intake" target="_blank">That's too much water. Read about it on Web MD.</a> We have too many <a href="https://www.yeti.com/drinkware/tumblers" target="_blank">YETI </a>and KODI tumblers already. I'm not buying Stanley tumblers for Manic Hobgoblin.)</p><p>5. <a href="https://people.com/awards/egot-winners/" target="_blank">EGOT</a>. (Editor's note: good luck with that.)</p><p>I hope that 2024 is a good year for all of us. Wash your hands. Be kind. Have compassion for your fellow Earthlings. </p><p>I set a goal to read forty books, which is the closest I get to making annual resolutions. I might join Manic Hobgoblin at Jazzercise. Chad and I plan to hike and kayak at Acadia National Park later this year. Discuss your plans and goals amongst yourselves on your Google doc or your group chat.</p>Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-46752341762097124872023-09-07T22:24:00.004-06:002023-09-13T16:33:34.298-06:00Brief Summer Escape to Colorado<p style="text-align: justify;">I'm deep in the throes of summer <a href="https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/seasonal-affective-disorder/symptoms-causes/syc-20364651" target="_blank">Seasonal Affective Disorder</a> sapping my energy, and ramping up my electricity costs and anxiety levels. Though less common than winter Seasonal Affective Disorder, I assure you summer SAD is a thing. When you've endured record-breaking drought with temperatures over 100 degrees Fahrenheit for sixty plus days and counting, you start to dread ANYTHING that means you need to leave a dark room with an air conditioning vent aimed at you and a tall ice-water nearby. This sense of dread very much includes getting into a hot car with hot seat belts and a hot steering wheel to travel from air conditioned space to air conditioned space. As I watch my plants wither and roast, my grass turn crunchy, and the drought restrictions grow, my large rain barrel is nearly dry just from keeping a few selected plants alive. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Our electricity has gone out a few times this summer, and though it was only for thirty minutes or less each time, it inspired a terror in my soul. How does one stay cool when it's literally 105 degrees Fahrenheit outside, and the electricity goes out? Do I run a luke-warm bath and sit in it? Fun fact: there is no cold water coming out of our pipes this summer. I take most showers with only the "cold" water tap running, and that water runs warm. It's a depressing and desperate feeling that this awfully bright, hot, drought-plagued summer serves. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWvLsX-uyUZxnPFVXX5QnHEy3yeKWcOjW901NVsIu69mL-YK6_bVYZyaZKtaQAqJFL6JAsWqrvVS7orSK-02wko3cpWGbYUjLIov0Izq3gJypkd7TM1dQWrX7s3S07S9KzG_r-rcGwK4Z_mABzbNc5y8xf1jMXznN00uYXBe7cOSfP8cWgA8cdew/s1792/ATXweather.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1792" data-original-width="828" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWvLsX-uyUZxnPFVXX5QnHEy3yeKWcOjW901NVsIu69mL-YK6_bVYZyaZKtaQAqJFL6JAsWqrvVS7orSK-02wko3cpWGbYUjLIov0Izq3gJypkd7TM1dQWrX7s3S07S9KzG_r-rcGwK4Z_mABzbNc5y8xf1jMXznN00uYXBe7cOSfP8cWgA8cdew/w185-h400/ATXweather.jpeg" width="185" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;">Chad and I escaped Austin for a few days in Colorado to celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary in a much cooler climate. For those of you thinking 25th wedding anniversary must be a typo, we got married at ages twelve and fourteen respectively. We had to have a note from our parents for the Justice of the Peace to marry us. Hahahahahahahaha. But seriously, wear sunscreen, drink plenty of water, get regular exercise, and make sleep a priority. Your future self will thank you. I know, ugh, boring, and not the quick fix you want.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I sublimate my travel anxiety by researching and planning our trips heavily. I make reservations for flights, hotels, restaurants, and attractions months in advance. I book <a href="https://lovingpetcare.info/" target="_blank">our pet sitters</a> as soon as I know we're traveling, usually two to four months in advance. I wish I could be more impulsive and impromptu, but that's a recipe for disappointment for me personally. Plus, I love looking forward to all the stuff I planned. I'm glad I reserved so many things well in advance for this trip, because there were crowds everywhere we went.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Our first stop after arriving at the Denver airport, and picking up our rental car, was a pre-booked entry at the immersive art experience Convergence Station, a.k.a. <a href="https://tickets.meowwolf.com/denver/" target="_blank">Meow Wolf Denver</a>. Chad and I went to Santa Fe's original Meow Wolf a few years ago, and loved the experience. We enjoy being surrounded by art in a choose-your-own-adventure exploration. There's such a joy in finding a hidden passage, or stumbling from magical environment to fantastical landscape, all in air-conditioned comfort with a well-planned narrative that one can choose to follow, or not. Convergence Station / Meow Wolf Denver created experiences and storylines quite different from Meow Wolf Santa Fe, while keeping the bar high for imagination and execution of the art installations. If you visit any of the Meow Wolf attractions, give yourself at least three hours to explore.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdYkqOCA9VD6e0qIufQ0dWLT81uYrObFjU5m3TyK14VHPBKaytg3BRNJoXdfHbtMQfTFyuJxErZOiK7i_M4xsYrj5SDnVV0Qu73o_qDiYRxeQNXguz5nTtv7zshQHPofJ0IjLUFwclpE0TvSjHfcvbJCze6qtPhKUJCEcl-B8Jgsx3IeAkoEfGyg/s1092/MeowWolfCS.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="458" data-original-width="1092" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdYkqOCA9VD6e0qIufQ0dWLT81uYrObFjU5m3TyK14VHPBKaytg3BRNJoXdfHbtMQfTFyuJxErZOiK7i_M4xsYrj5SDnVV0Qu73o_qDiYRxeQNXguz5nTtv7zshQHPofJ0IjLUFwclpE0TvSjHfcvbJCze6qtPhKUJCEcl-B8Jgsx3IeAkoEfGyg/w400-h168/MeowWolfCS.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAemFUPlggDZ2AqElEsUHZYxKe8k0bpbe6jZpnq2llxjcjGXQTCrVBsbpwx7mYfW8focA1lUmYY-FTguVK-pBUA39PoOOARhcL2Fm4H1wsX6mUJtsRXRQ0gDFaVhw5T1DGa78K4WePD3NKKgjg6ZEhXeOHo4qacItVsSHfvLdZMbpfvjparTgO8g/s974/MeowWolfDenverExt.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="610" data-original-width="974" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAemFUPlggDZ2AqElEsUHZYxKe8k0bpbe6jZpnq2llxjcjGXQTCrVBsbpwx7mYfW8focA1lUmYY-FTguVK-pBUA39PoOOARhcL2Fm4H1wsX6mUJtsRXRQ0gDFaVhw5T1DGa78K4WePD3NKKgjg6ZEhXeOHo4qacItVsSHfvLdZMbpfvjparTgO8g/w400-h250/MeowWolfDenverExt.png" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx3Gv03KDGKP-VPv_-1kovw6K08yquF4peUkn5qizR55yyvoy_NoaXzgogpWegEvSpSDHYDimPbBfw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM-FQwjvux0Ure__VuS0v_1eUMsZesaPd3WPBIvPAAuPc3dFwb6vvocuQtVEGE5pzylHdbOiJ1bJ9ZzSZNE1PRJdWeb78VTiRzx1yLVfAnsrDmFI6duG_YmcCxJki3jL8o6-29bkSDfhZYFefmAKuSvNIQjsHGFs3ebjniEwl9K1ePeJ9B60IPKQ/s4032/MeowWolfDenver.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM-FQwjvux0Ure__VuS0v_1eUMsZesaPd3WPBIvPAAuPc3dFwb6vvocuQtVEGE5pzylHdbOiJ1bJ9ZzSZNE1PRJdWeb78VTiRzx1yLVfAnsrDmFI6duG_YmcCxJki3jL8o6-29bkSDfhZYFefmAKuSvNIQjsHGFs3ebjniEwl9K1ePeJ9B60IPKQ/w300-h400/MeowWolfDenver.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;">After Meow Wolf in Denver, we stopped in Boulder on our way to Estes Park. We drove around gawping at the oh-so-cute and charming Boulder shops and houses. I did some research on <a href="https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/boulder-teahouse" target="_blank">Atlas Obscura</a> before our trip and found <a href="https://www.boulderteahouse.com/" target="_blank">Boulder Dushanbe Tea House</a>, where I booked a dinner reservation well in advance. It is such a unique and beautiful space. According to their website, the tea house was a hand built gift from Boulder's sister city of Dushanbe, Tajikistan. The menu at Boulder Dushanbe Tea House offers many vegetarian options, and of course, many different tea options. I love fancy tea. I had the side salad and Indian samosas with Lady Grey's garden tea. Chad had the Persian chickpea kufteh with a refreshing iced tea cucumber mint mocktail. After our dinner, we hit the road for Estes Park with some daylight to spare.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_qF-5FsKX1EGh6LibMG8LSQwwi6XRMzJOsPBrcqatTQRXTa_mB9MARevG6_PP_a-OPnwbZbmX-jrDkeP71N_AReKK_SNGGkjct1_jUpNuCfSDO-R_C5K-cr72rq0s5xZ2UCCLjjFSDjU_jAqLO-uZZNgrCDa7pNIKzzOjPAeAN5gH_l9N5-2zgA/s728/DushanbeTeaHouse.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="536" data-original-width="728" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_qF-5FsKX1EGh6LibMG8LSQwwi6XRMzJOsPBrcqatTQRXTa_mB9MARevG6_PP_a-OPnwbZbmX-jrDkeP71N_AReKK_SNGGkjct1_jUpNuCfSDO-R_C5K-cr72rq0s5xZ2UCCLjjFSDjU_jAqLO-uZZNgrCDa7pNIKzzOjPAeAN5gH_l9N5-2zgA/w400-h295/DushanbeTeaHouse.png" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;">Chad and I first went to Estes Park, Colorado about ten years ago for a friend's wedding. We stayed in the </span><a href="https://www.stanleyhotel.com/?utm_source=local-directories&utm_medium=organic&utm_campaign=travelclick-localconnect" style="text-align: justify;" target="_blank">beautiful, historic Stanley Hotel</a><span style="text-align: justify;"> in the main building. Yes, the hotel that inspired Stephen King to write his bestselling, iconic book </span><b style="text-align: justify;">The Shining. </b><span style="text-align: justify;">During that stay, we took the ghost tour around the property which gave lots of history of the hotel, and a behind the scenes look at the hotel and the grounds. We did not see a ghost on that tour, but we were startled by a prairie dog scurrying through a service hallway in the hotel basement. During this trip, we stayed down the hill from the original structure at the relatively new Aspire hotel and spa, which is still part of the Stanley Hotel Resort. Our suite at Aspire featured a separate living area and a full kitchen with a dishwasher. So fancy! (We don't even have a dishwasher at our home. Long story short, installing an automatic dishwasher in our seventy year old kitchen will require a $30,000 remodel, repipe, and rewiring job. The timeline for the project would take at least a month. I'll just wash the dishes by hand, thanks.) While the Aspire hotel didn't serve the same sense of history as the main building, or as the Lodge at Stanley Resort, Aspire did have a pool and all the modern luxuries such as air conditioning, plenty of electrical outlets, and yes, a full kitchen in our suite. The Stanley Hotel and resort is nestled in the entry to the </span><a href="https://www.nps.gov/romo/index.htm" style="text-align: justify;" target="_blank">Rocky Mountain National Park</a><span style="text-align: justify;"> with stunning vistas in nearly every direction. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></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/AVvXsEjQ2D-zi4xBPGzKgr9tJQAOCxjCeelo5aGBCwSq9gyhgUHSGX0LkiaC7H-H9c3E9RrGHhAcyitkEuhXDQdNhw0tjZaXEdZspV2i3fK0F7w5pW3VcHwPrEHqepnUVDhUsHBKeKK34ECHiNu-eV6GlVW1HTmHKy4FHounxxX1EWiJBzxOfvvGytYuRw/s2785/StanleyHill.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2305" data-original-width="2785" height="331" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ2D-zi4xBPGzKgr9tJQAOCxjCeelo5aGBCwSq9gyhgUHSGX0LkiaC7H-H9c3E9RrGHhAcyitkEuhXDQdNhw0tjZaXEdZspV2i3fK0F7w5pW3VcHwPrEHqepnUVDhUsHBKeKK34ECHiNu-eV6GlVW1HTmHKy4FHounxxX1EWiJBzxOfvvGytYuRw/w400-h331/StanleyHill.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stanley Hotel</td></tr></tbody></table><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/AVvXsEhu6JHI6SaShZoOnJ30FU0tGgTVVsBE-tHniCA2gceSEMz9HBsZ2L11mWxi3AFz5tBCIpztwKICzkhLuXqWjiPpU2aihRd_xId9uO5BtYe2RXs2kaE-BOsAFROzaMKBHvs9fMR0k7CB1o1NR4qkqUII83qA_hTzfcZwC-kwygHgxyfSHHorLJGOrA/s4032/StanleyFilm.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu6JHI6SaShZoOnJ30FU0tGgTVVsBE-tHniCA2gceSEMz9HBsZ2L11mWxi3AFz5tBCIpztwKICzkhLuXqWjiPpU2aihRd_xId9uO5BtYe2RXs2kaE-BOsAFROzaMKBHvs9fMR0k7CB1o1NR4qkqUII83qA_hTzfcZwC-kwygHgxyfSHHorLJGOrA/w300-h400/StanleyFilm.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Stanley</td></tr></tbody></table><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/AVvXsEhyXDggWK43AYA0URZIiATgJtky9rquIcwQBw83GmLceGEGZPPuGLhkB7Vhl8AzvdQw7WxIhygg3qLULVJY0YHPdNnOJT9sVufgCfrGJBMrRcvyxMNT9PahWsHvTHmA9Icyv43RR3tgROKjn3O2xqQ1xcM_ysCgmQ21xlPrjKNznIPlsAR0uuLF6A/s4032/StanleyGarden.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyXDggWK43AYA0URZIiATgJtky9rquIcwQBw83GmLceGEGZPPuGLhkB7Vhl8AzvdQw7WxIhygg3qLULVJY0YHPdNnOJT9sVufgCfrGJBMrRcvyxMNT9PahWsHvTHmA9Icyv43RR3tgROKjn3O2xqQ1xcM_ysCgmQ21xlPrjKNznIPlsAR0uuLF6A/w300-h400/StanleyGarden.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stanley Hotel Garden</td></tr></tbody></table><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/AVvXsEgPlfRTB3HS4zUFRFkChfE8NNpldh_8-n6YQieuAcg7sBR5KVo460bX3a3RVdFntg41CWcEI7Kclscm2c5OI34LIPR--fNl-Azui7QR30tNNI1AQX-DXMkZMXRT2_K-DdDqQ1h7rQHOI6uCdXZ8NYOM2wG7GwQgvfI-AfA6lceWeSTAjGAp2adXgw/s4032/StanleyAspireView.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPlfRTB3HS4zUFRFkChfE8NNpldh_8-n6YQieuAcg7sBR5KVo460bX3a3RVdFntg41CWcEI7Kclscm2c5OI34LIPR--fNl-Azui7QR30tNNI1AQX-DXMkZMXRT2_K-DdDqQ1h7rQHOI6uCdXZ8NYOM2wG7GwQgvfI-AfA6lceWeSTAjGAp2adXgw/w300-h400/StanleyAspireView.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from our balcony at Aspire at the Stanley Resort</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">We didn't take the Stanley ghost tour on this trip, but we did attend </span><a href="https://www.stanleyhotel.com/aidensinclairsunderground.html" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank">a performance by a master of illusion and mentalism at The Underground</a><span style="text-align: left;">. Jon Tai was the illusionist in residence during our trip with his show titled </span><i style="text-align: left;">Road Signs</i><span style="text-align: left;">. This wasn't like a Vegas, glitter-bomb, razzle-dazzle, magic show with a deafening live band accompaniment. This was more of a gentle artistic exercise in community building amongst the audience with sweet surprises sprinkled from beginning to end. Can confirm that I did gasp and giggle with delight throughout Jon Tai's show. Chad and I and hope to catch up with him elsewhere in the future. </span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/jontaimagic/" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank">Follow him on Instagram to find his performances. </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9WkkaMj65IC6Fv0DuRi_ugbTwZTR5UQ1yy9aFvWJxX4FlNHScB29VEmY7cpV3laORowQU84vUNMGcQ1lIZHHMfvTzYJND6aO9CVVbPY9oKDdxbgj-sFkDrTVj5GaBo4VMASAictJSwV7syepgOesnN-od0ObHH6cyzyjKEB-kiD86k5OURBckuA/s820/JonTai.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="604" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9WkkaMj65IC6Fv0DuRi_ugbTwZTR5UQ1yy9aFvWJxX4FlNHScB29VEmY7cpV3laORowQU84vUNMGcQ1lIZHHMfvTzYJND6aO9CVVbPY9oKDdxbgj-sFkDrTVj5GaBo4VMASAictJSwV7syepgOesnN-od0ObHH6cyzyjKEB-kiD86k5OURBckuA/w295-h400/JonTai.png" width="295" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">The weather in Estes Park during our trip was twenty to thirty degrees cooler than it was in Austin, which we relished. Seriously, sweet relief from the heat back at home! The sun could get intense at times, especially at that altitude. A few afternoon rain showers during our stay in Estes Park were most welcomed. </span></div><p style="text-align: justify;">On our first full day in Estes Park, we took a stroll along the well-manicured <a href="https://www.visitestespark.com/things-to-do/attractions/riverwalk/" target="_blank">Estes Park Riverwalk</a>. A paved path runs along a babbling brook with Disney-esque landscaping. The Riverwalk conveniently backs up to the main commercial street. It's a tourist town area with so many candy shops, t-shirt shops, beer pubs, coffee shops, restaurants, local food trucks, art galleries, wine cafes, more t-shirt shops, and oddly, an Orange Julius like from the malls of yore. (Ask a Gen X or Millennial if you are too young to know about this. They'll be so excited to tell you.) Finally I saw a store I needed to visit. Chad and I like to buy a book or two from local independent bookshops when we travel. Established in 1928, <a href="https://macdonaldbookshop.com/" target="_blank">MacDonald Bookshop</a> in Estes Park carries plenty of books in a cozy environment. I picked <i>Happy Place</i> by Emily Morgan, and loved reading it. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5rsOSBwq8YoQQbaEGa8JY0BDTXBxy9wxVuBkwEzrxnBxlEkn-DvMWqmcEZEMMBK_oBtum9k9iZ2H4Quj_eXpTp1HbCEHtu7QqlmKYkjdMlGEjCWPcrc6C1IabDU4DNe-L0O5gVKvbB-YQtAkB47zaQEXsflAVM-p1t0FG9dyjbMBsEsw9F5zc_Q/s1094/MacdonaldBookshop.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="1094" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5rsOSBwq8YoQQbaEGa8JY0BDTXBxy9wxVuBkwEzrxnBxlEkn-DvMWqmcEZEMMBK_oBtum9k9iZ2H4Quj_eXpTp1HbCEHtu7QqlmKYkjdMlGEjCWPcrc6C1IabDU4DNe-L0O5gVKvbB-YQtAkB47zaQEXsflAVM-p1t0FG9dyjbMBsEsw9F5zc_Q/w400-h330/MacdonaldBookshop.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8mcHYvfBuoYAM54OjsAz6tT9ihIxownN1Uc3C7MI0Z0UuN4efJmrJcipSpVO5SL79Q084pytY6ZdwSwzAsbFEA8WhpAtu4alXQ5KSlRO1cqXtLpwgTjy3eFOkjK5Ov5u3LwspY-ialbSt-9eSvy2n9mwmqqPT6K2wJsPhDMvRWtHg9Z2Mv66_3g/s692/HappyPlace.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="466" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8mcHYvfBuoYAM54OjsAz6tT9ihIxownN1Uc3C7MI0Z0UuN4efJmrJcipSpVO5SL79Q084pytY6ZdwSwzAsbFEA8WhpAtu4alXQ5KSlRO1cqXtLpwgTjy3eFOkjK5Ov5u3LwspY-ialbSt-9eSvy2n9mwmqqPT6K2wJsPhDMvRWtHg9Z2Mv66_3g/w269-h400/HappyPlace.png" width="269" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Later that day, we left the main drag for our anniversary dinner. <a href="https://www.dunravenepresort.com/" target="_blank">Dunraven restaurant</a> has floor to ceiling windows on two long walls with beautiful views of mountains and the diminutive Lake Estes. Dunraven has a nice atmosphere, without being stuffy or exclusive. I was overdressed in my Free People maxi dress and heels, but it was our anniversary, and I wanted to feel cute. I ordered the eggplant parmesan, which was delicious. The serving size was so enormous, that I took over half of it for later. (Because, as previously bragged, our suite had a full kitchen. And yes, we totally ate the leftovers.) Chad ordered cioppino (seafood stew served over pasta), and despite being real far from a coast for fresh seafood, he loved it. A complimentary drool-worthy tiramisu magically appeared at the end of our meal. Thanks, Dunraven, for actually acknowledging that box I checked for anniversary celebration when I made the reservation online.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">On our second full day in Estes Park, Chad and I hiked in <a href="https://www.hikingproject.com/directory/8017717/hermit-park-open-space" target="_blank">Hermit Park</a>. Initially, we thought we could hike to Kruger Rock, but it proved too challenging for flat-landers like us, unaccustomed to the high altitudes. We were both sucking wind pretty hard only a quarter of the way up the trail. A kindly hiker and her dog stopped and suggested we try <a href="https://www.hikingproject.com/trail/7032070/moose-meadow-trail" target="_blank">Moose Meadow</a> for a gentle, idyllic wander. Moose Meadow offered charm all along the way! We did not struggle to get enough oxygen on this gently sloped meander through a wildflower field and mountain forest.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6R5Rn98rKUKVV9AtaLYNekW72CP1iJCNr5j7OkBlTcATPG5jHy_hxafwKLLc09J127EupIYrG3XoUSh_jjjLuYe2wWJgKP2hrFswl4Xx2kNv00DvJ_2BBNch-lJPkjFqgEKXmy0fFf5JUST0lTd6OvEjbD0A7otB3ayPolW9MWhSXy-178sNFpg/s4032/HermitPark.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6R5Rn98rKUKVV9AtaLYNekW72CP1iJCNr5j7OkBlTcATPG5jHy_hxafwKLLc09J127EupIYrG3XoUSh_jjjLuYe2wWJgKP2hrFswl4Xx2kNv00DvJ_2BBNch-lJPkjFqgEKXmy0fFf5JUST0lTd6OvEjbD0A7otB3ayPolW9MWhSXy-178sNFpg/w300-h400/HermitPark.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaBXZhsi4Zf41oESzjWdadk8Hmxjc3wnuLypkRQ6zsjb20pMyhcCKinbuLkQ3WUXGoi1dsvc8b2K4PJ8pWmjj7vlUp9KDy1suZGhxO6rZnPbjBxnqg7h1Vs3kQ8YONVPbOqYfZ7TFMPnqTNgAe8_XMECmltE-6SJfmUcNIBXXLBxh94n63kK0V3g/s4032/HermitPark2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaBXZhsi4Zf41oESzjWdadk8Hmxjc3wnuLypkRQ6zsjb20pMyhcCKinbuLkQ3WUXGoi1dsvc8b2K4PJ8pWmjj7vlUp9KDy1suZGhxO6rZnPbjBxnqg7h1Vs3kQ8YONVPbOqYfZ7TFMPnqTNgAe8_XMECmltE-6SJfmUcNIBXXLBxh94n63kK0V3g/w300-h400/HermitPark2.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMjWK9NXKHagJJvNNdYmNXfH95uTKSkoXIYfGyZOULfa9BHtSepFB4pRWdUjRhTpXri-A8e0H7sn4zd6cDFOUO43vntKKJjXvQ27xuDZdwxioLWpeJmps6JmAH81a0pYKbod_6pbQkYNjM-YrtvJIT7_RfhkkB9uK5fGDDWMF4XVSnvg5-UowNjQ/s4032/HermitParkCave.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMjWK9NXKHagJJvNNdYmNXfH95uTKSkoXIYfGyZOULfa9BHtSepFB4pRWdUjRhTpXri-A8e0H7sn4zd6cDFOUO43vntKKJjXvQ27xuDZdwxioLWpeJmps6JmAH81a0pYKbod_6pbQkYNjM-YrtvJIT7_RfhkkB9uK5fGDDWMF4XVSnvg5-UowNjQ/w300-h400/HermitParkCave.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">After hiking at Hermit Park, we were sweaty, and not looking or smelling too cute. We needed a super casual place for lunch. <a href="https://www.thenotchtop.com/" target="_blank">Notchtop Diner</a> serves satisfying, casual breakfast, brunch and lunch, no reservations needed. Lots of our fellow diners wore hiking clothes. Chad loved his garden omelette. I leaned into my comfort food craving, and had a perfect grilled cheese sandwich with tomato slices added. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9zNsbNHC35ceAbMHHhxgbcS2n6cBLoNhQVZ7YOHD_XtnorrkTm8RTn6D0AaLPrPF3eejzhhL2lxVUElJ-4sCXtnBiTuGcVM8AbYvNMz20QnHB-5E9ot1l_ehAxAT4kJ_kN0wxIQ6EjzqJdeVRnjsaryWldGGkgJWDhOLGz4TaMj70lyoB9LYucg/s322/logo.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="83" data-original-width="322" height="103" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9zNsbNHC35ceAbMHHhxgbcS2n6cBLoNhQVZ7YOHD_XtnorrkTm8RTn6D0AaLPrPF3eejzhhL2lxVUElJ-4sCXtnBiTuGcVM8AbYvNMz20QnHB-5E9ot1l_ehAxAT4kJ_kN0wxIQ6EjzqJdeVRnjsaryWldGGkgJWDhOLGz4TaMj70lyoB9LYucg/w400-h103/logo.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><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/AVvXsEjzDFsajxH1qfz-bkJg9JxmAIlG6DFne9yc0TPujrRfrKMpwBZb-Mn19-qYNMvO_k1fxV-UEQgECVaAtVRBcGGlYDCoG4VHIDWFahM0ZPZh1w3YBrqIu6tOFPykfD3KBKsqtc-AHABIJ0nRCB87GKaEL7MJJiC9y7MQyTBEJM1mLcANY59XH83Ptg/s1592/NotchtopWall.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="836" data-original-width="1592" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzDFsajxH1qfz-bkJg9JxmAIlG6DFne9yc0TPujrRfrKMpwBZb-Mn19-qYNMvO_k1fxV-UEQgECVaAtVRBcGGlYDCoG4VHIDWFahM0ZPZh1w3YBrqIu6tOFPykfD3KBKsqtc-AHABIJ0nRCB87GKaEL7MJJiC9y7MQyTBEJM1mLcANY59XH83Ptg/w400-h210/NotchtopWall.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cute feature wall next to our booth at Notchtop</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">On our final full day in Estes Park, we took a p</span><a href="https://www.tripadvisor.com/AttractionProductReview-g60945-d20310893-Private_and_Personalized_Three_Hour_Morning_Tour_of_Rocky_Mountain_National_Park-Es.html" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank">rivate tour of Rocky Mountain National Park</a><span style="text-align: left;">. Local naturalist, Bruce, picked us up at our hotel, and drove us into the park imparting wisdom along the way about the history, landscape, flora, and fauna. By going with a guide to the park, we did not have to make a reservation for timed park entry. Bruce flashed his guide permit at the ranger station, and we were welcomed. Bruce got us to the correct spots to see mountain sheep visiting the watering hole, a giant moose near a snow field (yes! still snow on the ground in late July!), and a few elk along the way. It was magnificent. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0dFWaztE5Gzqo3fdiDp9jlav1K7LIBNPsFLKmg275uIUD2NF3iyUB6CtMfC8CTk-Y6MnoBHor1H3JScA5-pt-91ZFfgWPrnlMTiIv9sJv7dc_sFekSvqxTX2fqmB8M8WrUIy1cFMAP1uahklgb6D7QYkaotMpVlBAUNPp7ExW454xcnkjzOuygg/s4032/RMNP.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0dFWaztE5Gzqo3fdiDp9jlav1K7LIBNPsFLKmg275uIUD2NF3iyUB6CtMfC8CTk-Y6MnoBHor1H3JScA5-pt-91ZFfgWPrnlMTiIv9sJv7dc_sFekSvqxTX2fqmB8M8WrUIy1cFMAP1uahklgb6D7QYkaotMpVlBAUNPp7ExW454xcnkjzOuygg/w300-h400/RMNP.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK5wLdbscK55jNyvWCnfuW62Cl1jBLWrh1WpeE-shAOK6V5EQCSS-8el82DFuWtAStiIAz_sJxOgmqu8RwgfxASaZOeifzh3WSN4XZmlbiD_nC7-J0JeQEzhTlUje8WDSeKs91FPfdVJM5ZcQWY3AJoeeFFlNMTogQDJhdMWEUzGUKYlfV5WGhMw/s4032/RMNPsheep.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK5wLdbscK55jNyvWCnfuW62Cl1jBLWrh1WpeE-shAOK6V5EQCSS-8el82DFuWtAStiIAz_sJxOgmqu8RwgfxASaZOeifzh3WSN4XZmlbiD_nC7-J0JeQEzhTlUje8WDSeKs91FPfdVJM5ZcQWY3AJoeeFFlNMTogQDJhdMWEUzGUKYlfV5WGhMw/w300-h400/RMNPsheep.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDrHqgDO5Bycz9KctIb8Geh1rBC74artJEf1aL_ht95f_h3plE1tkdnsSCdF7tTdUk-G2YtI52dUQDpr0JwwyoKt9fHF4YtDWbYoEjxtkvoP3vXw9DAi3fMIRwC0FmdQfyoIIq7QUZOHff4ruIzb7te5fSHhxdupijqfvAKVQIcOGGqXztopIklg/s4032/RMNPsnow.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDrHqgDO5Bycz9KctIb8Geh1rBC74artJEf1aL_ht95f_h3plE1tkdnsSCdF7tTdUk-G2YtI52dUQDpr0JwwyoKt9fHF4YtDWbYoEjxtkvoP3vXw9DAi3fMIRwC0FmdQfyoIIq7QUZOHff4ruIzb7te5fSHhxdupijqfvAKVQIcOGGqXztopIklg/w300-h400/RMNPsnow.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQIY8adsHaw41rZPN5GdEW5aBVTWMYNTEFm_kOqRBriRkEcQxjremiSaT6HwGbcXdJp6EBcT0t_-3LW2PkKvifS3zDdgqshFAKqQFMRPYDHf7s998Sk5yNoj1W6VQq4vDR0spA_f4w2m0sBPc9r1EH3kicd1N-4ulsCb_wo8v5iDVEG64kFIb8Mg/s4032/RMNPwaterfall.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQIY8adsHaw41rZPN5GdEW5aBVTWMYNTEFm_kOqRBriRkEcQxjremiSaT6HwGbcXdJp6EBcT0t_-3LW2PkKvifS3zDdgqshFAKqQFMRPYDHf7s998Sk5yNoj1W6VQq4vDR0spA_f4w2m0sBPc9r1EH3kicd1N-4ulsCb_wo8v5iDVEG64kFIb8Mg/w300-h400/RMNPwaterfall.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv0bpX4tG6P73bjnirZmptLUHPyMcIbRF2yDpniDDO8-crdL-KHLuVuYaUk8DoADEla0pMKt6RRN8VIDpJhsAnPmFFyw-IU5pclNXtoLrrJU2sKwtk3wLlilDSKdgzbqaxVr2dgIUcbTmLdEdxfzaZTrTPlYd0Nahk9EoWE59K0oTpJSl2iPUZ2g/s4032/RMNPrail.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv0bpX4tG6P73bjnirZmptLUHPyMcIbRF2yDpniDDO8-crdL-KHLuVuYaUk8DoADEla0pMKt6RRN8VIDpJhsAnPmFFyw-IU5pclNXtoLrrJU2sKwtk3wLlilDSKdgzbqaxVr2dgIUcbTmLdEdxfzaZTrTPlYd0Nahk9EoWE59K0oTpJSl2iPUZ2g/w300-h400/RMNPrail.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Don't be too jealous. Our trip wasn't perfect. I had altitude sickness in the form of bad waves of nausea and slight dizziness during my first twelve hours in Colorado. From past experience with altitude sickness, I prepared by making sure to stay well hydrated, having ginger chews to settle my stomach, and making sure I ate so my blood sugar didn't drop too low. I still felt bad despite my efforts. While we were exploring Meow Wolf, I had to stop into the bathroom a few times for fear of vomiting. I bought an overpriced iced tea and bottled water in an attempt feel better. The iced tea was delicious, so I shouldn't complain.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">While we ate dinner at Boulder Dushanbe Tea House, I had to breathe mindfully, and eat the side salad I ordered sooooo sloooooowly for fear of being sick. I didn't even try a bite of Chad's dish, because it was too pungent for my stormy stomach in the moment. He said it was really good. I drank an entire pot of hot tea, and lots of water, which offered some temporary relief from the altitude sickness. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The drive between Boulder and Estes Park serves lovely scenery on switchback curves ascending into the Rocky Mountains. I had to breathe slowly through my mouth and keep my eyes forward, only forward, to avoid vomiting in the fancy rental car. Chad commented on the scenery, and if that pretty scenery was out the side window, I just couldn't look. It's like the altitude sickness and motion sickness were trying to form a super-group in my digestive tract.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">There were so many fellow tourists at shops and restaurants in Estes Park. It felt like no matter where I tried to walk, stand, or sit, I was in someone's way. I'm so glad I made an advance reservation six weeks ahead of time for our anniversary dinner at Dunraven. Dunraven seated us right on time, but the parking was in ridiculously short supply. Chad paid to park at a marina, a quarter of a mile down the hill. The restaurant was crowded and noisy. Cascades restaurant in the Stanley Hotel the next night also had hectic crowds, and even with an advance reservation we had to wait fifteen minutes for our table. Our server at Cascades was excellent, but clearly very busy, smiling through what seemed like a super stressful job. (Please be patient with the human service workers doing their best to help you. Tip generously.)</p><p style="text-align: justify;">One thing that low-key gives me the ick about the Stanley resort now, versus when we visited in the past, is how far the resort leans into the whole paranormal, supernatural, cursed schtick. It feels like the mall store Hot Topic came in as the event director, which is to say, a bit tacky. I appreciate the history of the Stanley resort. I appreciate that Stephen King took inspiration from the place. I personally don't like to exploit tragedies or trauma by displaying alleged cursed objects, or by cherry-picking events and embellishing them explicitly for shock value. The current vibe of the resort felt a bit like a low budget, ghoulish, morbid, ages 21 and up, haunted mansion redux. That opinionated judgement given, Stanley resort is still a very nice place to stay. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Chad broke his front-top-center dental work on our last night in Colorado. His broken veneer made him self-conscious, but fortunately caused no pain. He was able to see our dentist for a temporary cosmetic fix the day after we arrived home.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">We returned home to Austin amidst 105 degrees Fahrenheit. I'd cry about it, but I don't want to risk dehydration. </p>Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-84309426032739493402023-01-05T16:52:00.001-06:002023-01-05T16:52:08.585-06:00Manic Hobgoblin's 2023 Resolutions<p><br /></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/AVvXsEg8L7VRbECfQVnxFUkTjoa6i0E3tZzgb77UgHljJlK83UuyW5RGjfeU6eSjhmpYnxh38MTxHXTq5rZYvzVSN5WOFV0vo1I9om4rHAloITpS49LxfWmWKH6PYTb1rjB1iIsLyhgIoFt7YYjDj2Fsx8B7lk2l4CQo1HVL0QnxJFjyq_vRBj_fgu4/s1430/Screen%20Shot%202023-01-05%20at%204.39.33%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="1430" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8L7VRbECfQVnxFUkTjoa6i0E3tZzgb77UgHljJlK83UuyW5RGjfeU6eSjhmpYnxh38MTxHXTq5rZYvzVSN5WOFV0vo1I9om4rHAloITpS49LxfWmWKH6PYTb1rjB1iIsLyhgIoFt7YYjDj2Fsx8B7lk2l4CQo1HVL0QnxJFjyq_vRBj_fgu4/w400-h213/Screen%20Shot%202023-01-05%20at%204.39.33%20PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Manic Hobgoblin currently resides in a P.O. box in Delaware.</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>My inner Manic Hobgoblin previously lived in my head rent-free, and inspired all sorts of big ideas and projects. Some of the things inspired by Manic Hobgoblin, such as landscaping projects when Chad and I first bought our home, turned out well. Other things inspired by Manic Hobgoblin over the years have lead to burnout, such as the years when I held three jobs at once. Manic Hobgoblin thankfully went missing during the worst of the pandemic "stay home" days, but he has resurfaced. </p><p>Manic Hobgoblin has taken up residence in a P.O. box in Delaware (for tax purposes) where he launched a Limited Liability Company. Manic Hobgoblin tried to convince me to become an early investor in his LLC with an exciting opportunity to get in on the ground floor, but I refused. I can't tell what the LLC even does, and Manic Hobgoblin can't sit still long enough to coherently explain it. I highly suspect that Manic Hobgoblin's LLC is a scam. I blocked his phone number, but Manic Hobgoblin uses fake accounts on Instagram to slide into my DMs. I try to ignore his mania and toxically obstinate optimism. I don't have the time or energy that I once had for his nonsense. Manic Hobgoblin said he'll leave me alone if I share his new year resolutions on the blog. </p><p>1. Streamline all processes into an easy to follow flowchart, thereby removing uncertainty from most of daily life. (Editorial note: I've seen the flowchart. It looks like a pile of spaghetti. There is nothing easy to follow about it. Also Manic Hobgoblin has failed to account for human emotion in all circumstances.)</p><p>2. Make a viral video for YouTube. Parlay that into a successful YouTube channel with 1 million subscribers in the first year. (Editorial note: You can't just make a viral video. It gains traction organically, or you've paid for the likes and subscribes.)</p><p>3. Recoup losses from cryptocurrency investments with a class action lawsuit. (Editorial note: Oh no, Manic Hobgoblin! I told you that cryptocurrencies are highly volatile. Your best hope with a class action lawsuit is to recoup pennies on the dollar. )</p><p>4. Sign a lease for the LLC on a bigger property in Delaware with waterfront views. (Editorial note: That will certainly be a step up from the P.O. box.)</p><p>5. Win the HGTV Dream Home, and actually live it. (Editorial note: The federal, state, and local taxes will bankrupt you. You have to immediately sell it if you win. And you can't just resolve to win it.) </p><p>Regardless of Manic Hobgoblin, I don't personally make new year resolutions. I try to do my best each day to be kind, and to take care of myself, Chad, and my pets. The closest thing to a resolution for me is setting a Goodreads goal of reading forty books this year.</p><p><br /></p>Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-19095035163783564712022-12-17T22:35:00.001-06:002022-12-17T22:35:41.961-06:00Pre-ruined<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">🎄?=🙅♀️✈️ 🚗</span></div><div><br /></div>I don't travel for major holidays including, but not limited to: Christmas, Thanksgiving, Fourth of July, Labor Day, Memorial Day, and Halloween. I don't travel for major holidays for a variety of reasons. The roads are more busy, and thus more dangerous, and thus more time-consuming for long distance travel. Air travel is more expensive, more crowded, and more likely to have a chain reaction of delays and cancellations during major holidays. It is more difficult and expensive to book a pet-sitter during major holidays. The most important reason I don't travel for major holidays is that people build too much expectation of what that holiday should be. There is such a slim chance that your dream holiday will be exactly fulfilled on the prescribed timeline. It's a recipe for disappointment. It's pre-ruined. <div><br /></div><div>Your idea of the perfect Thanksgiving will likely be ruined by my chosen dietary restrictions (vegetarian) and food allergies (peanuts and pecans, with a side of soy sensitivity). You will not enjoy my opinions of how Christmas is simultaneously too commercial and too sanctimoniously divisive even within the same church denominations. I will very likely cry because someone there says something hurtful to my tender feelings. I will very likely anger someone without meaning to; not realizing I've stepped on a culture war landmine. Maybe I'll anger someone on purpose, because we disagree, and I'm done staying silent. I don't want my holiday ruined because some family dynamic was tested by an ultimatum that backfired. An example of this was the year my husband and I traveled halfway across the country for Thanksgiving. What should have been a festive dinner of eight people at the fancy dining table was instead an angrily silent Thanksgiving dinner for only four people at the informal kitchen table with way too much food for four people walking on eggshells. </div><div><br /></div><div>When I stay home for major holidays, I enjoy the company of my little chosen family of my husband and my pets, sometimes a few friends. If someone in this small group ruins the meal by repeatedly opening the oven so that nothing gets cooked properly, or by forgetting to serve the desserts, or by leaning into an argument, or by maligning a certain breed of dog that happens to be my sweet shelter dog's breed, or by flipping over a board game gone too competitive, or by slicing their thumb during meal prep and spending the evening in the emergency room, (these have all happened to me, or near me, at major holidays,) then at least I'm close to home. I can easily make a hasty retreat to feed myself, relax with my sweet dog and cats, soothe my nerves, cocoon with a good book, or zone out to a movie that I like. I'm not stuck far away from the comforts of home for a few more days of tension, anxiety, and unmet expectations. I don't have to deal with hectic travel on top of the emotionally draining and fraught holiday interactions. </div><div><br /></div><div>I will travel to see you any other time of year. If some aspect of that series of interactions is imperfect, then at least the stakes weren't as high. We can more easily and immediately forgive each other; rather than stewing in resentment that the imaginary script wasn't followed to the letter. </div><div><br /></div><div>But during major holidays, I will send you glad tidings from over here.</div><div><br /></div><div>To those who celebrate, merry Christmas! </div><div><br /></div><div>To those who get offended by acknowledging any other kind of holiday or celebration outside of Christmas, you can go now. Your portion of this blog post is over. </div><div>Seriously. </div><div>Stop reading. </div><div>Move on with your day. </div><div>No one will notice if you bow out quietly. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Are they gone? </div><div><br /></div><div>To those who celebrate, happy Hanukkah! </div><div><br /></div><div>To those who observe the celestial changing of seasons, I wish you a comforting and relaxing winter solstice. </div><div><br /></div><div>To those who generally celebrate the festive feeling of this time of year, happy holidays! </div><div><br /></div><div>To those who observe Kwanzaa, enjoy! </div><div><br /></div><div>To those following the Gregorian calendar, I'd like to pre-wish you a happy new year! </div><div><br /></div><div>To those who partake in the airing of grievances for Festivus, um, I'm so unclear on this holiday. I hope it's what you expect it to be. I won't be there. </div><div><br /></div><div>If I have failed to acknowledge your holiday of choice in the appropriate manner according to your exacting standards, then file it under "pre-ruined." I didn't do it on purpose, but here we are.
</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-29383585504500975802022-10-06T16:29:00.005-06:002022-10-06T16:33:55.009-06:00I'm Not Scared of Ghosts<p>Many years ago my extended family took a road trip to Disney World when I was a kid. My immediate family (Dad, Mom, myself, and my sister who is seven years younger than I am) lived in Birmingham, Alabama at the time. We met up with my Uncle Maury, Aunt Vickie, and cousin Marissa in Orlando, Florida. My Aunt Vickie commented with some degree of wonder that neither my little sister or I seemed scared in the Haunted Mansion. We just stared and gave a few giggles of delight at the grim grinning ghoul animatronics and projections. Aunt Vickie also noted that I was oddly quiet on the infamously daunting roller coaster in the dark, Space Mountain. My sister and I weren't scared by manufactured chills or thrills, but we were afraid of real world threats to our safety.</p><p><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/a/AVvXsEiLMlEStVNKlO45qFfTMVz--Rjb1buJqh-00-az4ZdHQHI56OLb2IXn-DdbqN5nhkkEBmnX1TUYvKOl6ovKjSJpsOuFDzg5BQNHKE-31ZEHzJK2EjbEiMVnCiqX-Gu_n6iwlNGbmhqViRmU3E9maAxydRAsBPCUyBlR5cb5VzPa6Gbop6079BQ" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="866" data-original-width="1200" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiLMlEStVNKlO45qFfTMVz--Rjb1buJqh-00-az4ZdHQHI56OLb2IXn-DdbqN5nhkkEBmnX1TUYvKOl6ovKjSJpsOuFDzg5BQNHKE-31ZEHzJK2EjbEiMVnCiqX-Gu_n6iwlNGbmhqViRmU3E9maAxydRAsBPCUyBlR5cb5VzPa6Gbop6079BQ=w400-h289" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hitchhiking ghosts from Disney's Haunted Mansion</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></p><p>I currently live in a seventy year old house in central Austin. When Chad and I first moved into our home sixteen years ago, Dr. Blackstock, an older man from across the street (now deceased) would chat with me whenever he saw me out front working in the yard. He spun yarns of how our house was once hit by a car during a police chase with suspected bank robbers. He said that's why some previous homeowners built the limestone facade planters on the front of our house. If another car hits the house, then the car will be damaged worse than the house. Dr. Blackstock also pointed out a few of the BB gun pellet holes in the original windows on our house, reminiscing about how his children (now grown, middle-aged adults) staged grand battles with the children who lived here back in the day. (Those original windows now replaced by fancier energy efficient, double pane windows.) When botanical surprises would spring from the ground, Dr. Blackstock told me that at one point in the 1990s our home was occupied by owners of the local plant nursery, and how amazing it looked when everything was in bloom. </p><p>Also when we first bought our home, an older lady would sometimes loiter in a car out on the curb. We guessed that the person driving her was her daughter or some younger relative. The older lady would lean out the passenger window, and tell us how her husband poured the concrete path, and poured the concrete for the posts of the laundry lines in the backyard. She asked wistfully if they were still there. The laundry lines are long gone, but (much to our unspoken chagrin) yes, that concrete is still back there, even today. We invited the lady in a few times, but she always declined. I think she just wanted to see the old place still standing and have her memories. We haven't seen her or her younger driver in about twelve years. </p><p>Time and progress march on. Chad and I have witnessed cozy old homes around us demolished to make way for five bedroom, five bathroom, McMansions. We have suffered through years of construction dust and noise as the old state property across the four lane street from our corner lot is developed into urban infill, mixed use property. I admit that the paved walking trail and manicured landscaping around the large retention pond is beautiful with multi-acred rolling hills of lawn and grand old Oak trees undisturbed. The giant homes, multi-story apartments, and multi-story parking garages for the tall office buildings are less so beautiful, but very modern and shiny-new. </p><p>A pedestrian crosswalk with traffic signal now occupies the sidewalk right outside our windows. Most pedestrians stick to the sidewalk, but the occasional person cuts through our front yard. I don't mind the people who walk on the grass, but I do sigh with frustration at the careless oafs who step on our planter bed flowering plants and kick the river rocks from our planter beds into the street. These defiantly destructive people broadcast a sense of bowed-up, come-at-me, looking-for-a-fight, danger. And they're literally in our front yard. </p><p>Late each night between 10:00 PM and 2:00 AM I take out the trash, and visit with our outdoor cat, Sabrina. I bring Sabrina more food and sit on the front steps to brush her soft shiny ebony fur. Sabrina and I look at the sky, and listen to other critters (bats, owls, opossum, raccoons, and the occasional coyote) going about their nocturnal business. Usually the human pedestrian and automobile traffic is less present by this time of night. But a few nights ago, around midnight, Sabrina and I heard a masculine human voice. The utterances sounded far away, and were undecipherable, except for the word "hey." Sabrina seemed unbothered by the voice, so I stayed with her outside. Every few minutes, the voice sounded as if it was moving closer to our house. Still the only word I could pick out was "hey" among the other vocalizations. I reached a point where the voice sounded too close, and kind of eerily insistent, but I didn't see any person. Sabrina purred at my feet and leaned on my legs, desiring more brushing. I whispered to her, "Sorry, babe, but I'm scared. I'm going inside. You stay safe." </p><p>If I could be sure that this disembodied voice belonged to a ghost, I would have stayed put with Sabrina. I was honestly more afraid and more certain that the voice belonged to a living person. Maybe someone inebriated, or desperate, or confused, or maybe someone with bad intentions. Living in this sweet little old house, in the center of a rapidly growing city, I'm not scared of the ghosts of what was. I'm much more afraid of the physical realities of what is, and what is to come.</p>Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-42924966399926196092022-09-03T23:48:00.001-06:002022-09-04T22:24:06.789-06:00Last Full Day Dublin<p>Our last full day of Irish adventures began with a pre-opening hours exploration of <a href="https://epicchq.com/?utm_source=mybusiness&utm_medium=organic" target="_blank">Dublin's EPIC Irish Emigration Museum</a>. This museum captured my interest immediately with modern, interactive, immersive experiences covering everything from the reasons people left Ireland through the contemporary worldwide impact of the Irish diaspora in music, arts, entertainment, literature, science, engineering, politics, and labor. Each section of the museum presented a new invitation to explore. I highly recommend <a href="https://epicchq.com/?utm_source=mybusiness&utm_medium=organic" target="_blank">Dublin's EPIC Irish Emigration Museum</a>. Our entire tour group enjoyed this experience.</p><p><br /></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/AVvXsEg0U42nr81LEJVyQeFq4Epw_cHo3XJQzYN8UlQ5hKOW-s-D6BBYupyzMCAdFQqta8cFYKpdYuHZRUKEzVqSp8EfGnlvgHew25cCKOo107kgagvHhtoyDD0fvXt1DvkAJuADyaYMkE-VGFbOTik3dPghSsocfjg9falCeAEJnF7t1LG4tlwhFgY/s4032/EPICMuseum1.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0U42nr81LEJVyQeFq4Epw_cHo3XJQzYN8UlQ5hKOW-s-D6BBYupyzMCAdFQqta8cFYKpdYuHZRUKEzVqSp8EfGnlvgHew25cCKOo107kgagvHhtoyDD0fvXt1DvkAJuADyaYMkE-VGFbOTik3dPghSsocfjg9falCeAEJnF7t1LG4tlwhFgY/w300-h400/EPICMuseum1.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Entering the EPIC Irish Emigration Museum</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzHZYW7wwhCj2zipTeUWqs_lb-geBj2WJA87GozGmIJ-IxRkKoeyiSMBbiUDylQq_wk7k9TkXtff9M' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><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/AVvXsEjowsKa6JQGkwGEak4r3yyvZRv9ZXTiNguo7fdxLjoJdjmWteRzbSrlmSC48aNX8D2PEbrP_0QSFTiDuU5B8KaF5FJJp7pWiDZzNpgu8MQTIZjmqaUOFPj4LMpnLFlJBvhmxnHvjoAQfUUfxSG0btEK3KcnIB-oeufafPv9Efl5Yw_lmmVuCIg/s4032/EPICMusuem2.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjowsKa6JQGkwGEak4r3yyvZRv9ZXTiNguo7fdxLjoJdjmWteRzbSrlmSC48aNX8D2PEbrP_0QSFTiDuU5B8KaF5FJJp7pWiDZzNpgu8MQTIZjmqaUOFPj4LMpnLFlJBvhmxnHvjoAQfUUfxSG0btEK3KcnIB-oeufafPv9Efl5Yw_lmmVuCIg/w300-h400/EPICMusuem2.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Epic sculpture depicting the many waves of emigration from Ireland</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dztn1M4j1MkwHUUmBoglAePVQ3k7r2RB2jYHxW9lmkP93cYHTz3UZj_70JVPxywtFiNSnCKY_KI5eM' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My favorite experience room was the library with glowing books!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After leaving this museum, we hopped back on the tour bus. A local Dublin tour guide joined us, and narrated history while pointing out significant structures as our bus wound its way through Dublin. Stops included <a href="https://www.visitdublin.com/st-stephen-s-green" target="_blank">St. Stephen's Green</a>, Trinity College Library, and that quintessential Dublin tourist trap: <a href="https://thetemplebarpub.com/" target="_blank">Temple Bar</a>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><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/AVvXsEhEiTQba6xFoKgLVZGoDKT1E8B_ccciAbr7rdjthKVMTZ1ouCMautjhzi6jJzvv8jRF2kZ1Njpb1o5ULGCarozyR64GlQINYUNVMFOvytdVjePTgcAoDmeT0CDilbf3Q4dGEmorKUwAQe_NzFsYy_N2aZVUhlquGnetaiZ-Md2hcdbK2hMw5aQ/s4032/StStephensTree.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEiTQba6xFoKgLVZGoDKT1E8B_ccciAbr7rdjthKVMTZ1ouCMautjhzi6jJzvv8jRF2kZ1Njpb1o5ULGCarozyR64GlQINYUNVMFOvytdVjePTgcAoDmeT0CDilbf3Q4dGEmorKUwAQe_NzFsYy_N2aZVUhlquGnetaiZ-Md2hcdbK2hMw5aQ/w300-h400/StStephensTree.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look at this very refined tree at St. Stephen's Green.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEhaoOu74s_pjf9VKJ61CQb4n_BKKELJvWwkFfJzOu2EY2IZPlW1wISJyz0nXiRTSoWp9dJM5CJwgh4nlGDVWJUqTuT_3wvmaK8y2AfZvk838j5SRFuXYf4_6QROJOKPICZBxybTLlxR1jVB5dsn_VYeFu1ppBRpQX9aY2AoX_5hocAOI1ksuVU/s4032/StStephensGarden.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaoOu74s_pjf9VKJ61CQb4n_BKKELJvWwkFfJzOu2EY2IZPlW1wISJyz0nXiRTSoWp9dJM5CJwgh4nlGDVWJUqTuT_3wvmaK8y2AfZvk838j5SRFuXYf4_6QROJOKPICZBxybTLlxR1jVB5dsn_VYeFu1ppBRpQX9aY2AoX_5hocAOI1ksuVU/w300-h400/StStephensGarden.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">gorgeous gardens at St.Stephen's Green</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEgil124ns7Hqo9EZwpzFlxbSRFqFhSQ5S2CO3cxXB2QPZf7uitY2X0diRImx2Qta0VppTLRbE2wbI1-sw7vEcpz2X28tQGnRA5Zdhm-2egdA4KAQv87dHetrRPe0IqWeNVbLyyEEUO40DEEP_0ZTwBId5E-HZsWuT3ae8oGH6p2_3XR_rH7-7Q/s4032/StStephensGarden2.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgil124ns7Hqo9EZwpzFlxbSRFqFhSQ5S2CO3cxXB2QPZf7uitY2X0diRImx2Qta0VppTLRbE2wbI1-sw7vEcpz2X28tQGnRA5Zdhm-2egdA4KAQv87dHetrRPe0IqWeNVbLyyEEUO40DEEP_0ZTwBId5E-HZsWuT3ae8oGH6p2_3XR_rH7-7Q/w300-h400/StStephensGarden2.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">more gorgeous gardens at St. Stephen's Green</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><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/AVvXsEigGl_93pt6A1_mHX0ladQIL0QhAN1OyQ1peHCWVMckJYJSZi0nNp8ETJ8TY3PaStE2-d6UgbB0WY2OUIlH91h09YfEkIrx2sT_R4GNSCbzEqMQOpIgGtOVhlmIpWOOaIM21kicmp8tl7pmYIIGL812A8DRkrRmTue30ifrTGmh8iVh1BHnaaw/s3780/TrinityLibrary1.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3780" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigGl_93pt6A1_mHX0ladQIL0QhAN1OyQ1peHCWVMckJYJSZi0nNp8ETJ8TY3PaStE2-d6UgbB0WY2OUIlH91h09YfEkIrx2sT_R4GNSCbzEqMQOpIgGtOVhlmIpWOOaIM21kicmp8tl7pmYIIGL812A8DRkrRmTue30ifrTGmh8iVh1BHnaaw/w320-h400/TrinityLibrary1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">idyllic little corner of Trinity College Library</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><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/AVvXsEgb95KGci4xNuCYU2pSmHNnOC-oGyR5xNNi3YalkD57Qhbq9NtYnKdSB67Y1JDgkKXsANQMR551Djb-SRrI7SREEjn2pnLZwDNVMt1RUDDqCvkS1h3uKLdgWEC8ZWxkQPI5RnNRyvTiSPGvsoFyb8XLkuY10ibHZz12EXWvti_EX5xb_wbpK-M/s4032/TrinityLibrary2.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb95KGci4xNuCYU2pSmHNnOC-oGyR5xNNi3YalkD57Qhbq9NtYnKdSB67Y1JDgkKXsANQMR551Djb-SRrI7SREEjn2pnLZwDNVMt1RUDDqCvkS1h3uKLdgWEC8ZWxkQPI5RnNRyvTiSPGvsoFyb8XLkuY10ibHZz12EXWvti_EX5xb_wbpK-M/w300-h400/TrinityLibrary2.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trinity College Library: ultimate old book smell</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><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/AVvXsEhDa70dnrg58lF-IaMcX3N_m9zI2Dao0zfWkS_IfqJ2HAWuVaknQYFlJO-apMWXs-zsMwfzUEt4apBQ5tLhXR250mIxOexm5lgBqw9pAvB8lpDAZ2TG9mlEOUAZ-diU-2AvOuf9ev6WbfqtB9jDD4Mm5ChBoVbVkIxa2Uc18sHqZMvXhoVCxpI/s4032/TempleBar1.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDa70dnrg58lF-IaMcX3N_m9zI2Dao0zfWkS_IfqJ2HAWuVaknQYFlJO-apMWXs-zsMwfzUEt4apBQ5tLhXR250mIxOexm5lgBqw9pAvB8lpDAZ2TG9mlEOUAZ-diU-2AvOuf9ev6WbfqtB9jDD4Mm5ChBoVbVkIxa2Uc18sHqZMvXhoVCxpI/w300-h400/TempleBar1.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">clueless tourists loitering at Temple Bar</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEh4_woth0-57KSCWWRhyGi0W0I29XT9_97JLRNYktYjHNxDLpVLjZiqu7x2RvSuvrNfmgdF0Wd7k9SJQvM6Dqg_09es6JrD520u6zej0bLt_0OvdHSjX5NdV7s9YIpw9AyTV1Dps0vTJu_F7KVBAESTsePOtxlVNz2UwqnfDDB0xk3Tlww-hq8/s4032/TempleBar2.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4_woth0-57KSCWWRhyGi0W0I29XT9_97JLRNYktYjHNxDLpVLjZiqu7x2RvSuvrNfmgdF0Wd7k9SJQvM6Dqg_09es6JrD520u6zej0bLt_0OvdHSjX5NdV7s9YIpw9AyTV1Dps0vTJu_F7KVBAESTsePOtxlVNz2UwqnfDDB0xk3Tlww-hq8/w300-h400/TempleBar2.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just a half pint for me, please.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEg0OOAIfqWu1BfmtWJ9Pv1L9uQ9GrfT2F6CQFxE_Agoy0s0ZnrijGdf_8mgV7hWtBA1ZNCOiSwZpRqFGGNQPKEI2-pl8bO3TrsEHtFWi9mi0jeXAViXl7kSnQZTgLMZia6pWcJOLYPNYLJsMHUOkBWujSz3UBQi9zxDREWGpJJ1Rtjb5WQcojE/s4032/TempleBar4.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0OOAIfqWu1BfmtWJ9Pv1L9uQ9GrfT2F6CQFxE_Agoy0s0ZnrijGdf_8mgV7hWtBA1ZNCOiSwZpRqFGGNQPKEI2-pl8bO3TrsEHtFWi9mi0jeXAViXl7kSnQZTgLMZia6pWcJOLYPNYLJsMHUOkBWujSz3UBQi9zxDREWGpJJ1Rtjb5WQcojE/w300-h400/TempleBar4.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Author James Joyce sitting at Temple Bar.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEichwnvHUBHojMgF4PN74T_8gF3El-FS8t_bJiNJH4nFOlYUlLSBuAxxOXIZoDC5LBp5SB2gZyaIA0S6BJuFcE-xWe_Su5xzCY93huSLAI3NR25etu43oSXLbNZkFTyqqif0okzVjL00pYYXSPLD6uYVXWHu3r-Lpyg4DG4TbCtux25qd8Vxag/s4032/TempleBar3.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEichwnvHUBHojMgF4PN74T_8gF3El-FS8t_bJiNJH4nFOlYUlLSBuAxxOXIZoDC5LBp5SB2gZyaIA0S6BJuFcE-xWe_Su5xzCY93huSLAI3NR25etu43oSXLbNZkFTyqqif0okzVjL00pYYXSPLD6uYVXWHu3r-Lpyg4DG4TbCtux25qd8Vxag/w300-h400/TempleBar3.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chad reading some plaque at Temple Bar.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEjS-ocKk9PM0nhjhFrzCB3r7Ie3mBCvNDVNhzvGR6W-Z-ar0cgLTcsJ-9LIt3iVxvEYFyxm-JWZmFNOeWiqZMADXh6k8q188ZAp8OeXM6GVc-MceXERFsk54tT_dg2fekjpU3gWDj93eJt_vdjMAPw8tDmXa5l-vaIhKmgIG4baXdKqZ1p8Grk/s4032/DublinPub.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS-ocKk9PM0nhjhFrzCB3r7Ie3mBCvNDVNhzvGR6W-Z-ar0cgLTcsJ-9LIt3iVxvEYFyxm-JWZmFNOeWiqZMADXh6k8q188ZAp8OeXM6GVc-MceXERFsk54tT_dg2fekjpU3gWDj93eJt_vdjMAPw8tDmXa5l-vaIhKmgIG4baXdKqZ1p8Grk/w300-h400/DublinPub.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">supercute Dublin pub</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Dublin has some beautiful areas, and it is a city packed with history. It is also a big city with international influence. There are dirty parts, smelly parts, traffic, clueless tourists stumbling about (myself included), so I think just two or three days in Dublin is perfect. The Irish countryside is where the real beauty lies.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">One place we did not get to experience while in Dublin was the <a href="https://kilmainhamgaolmuseum.ie/" target="_blank">Kilmainham Gaol</a>, a foreboding former prison that is now a museum of Irish nationalism history. This museum was fully booked to capacity for group tours on that day, but came highly recommended for insight into Irish political history.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">After our guided tour of Dublin, it was back to the hotel for a quick wash up and brush up before the evening dinner and entertainment. Our tour group posed for a picture outside the hotel before boarding the bus. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><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/AVvXsEgEyBQZkEphKyQDWS5WtJ-FhtQKqgX6mojUi39RKIHwwY4rf9ZyT6Ee96lusg9nXOXmgoMaOPZ7429k89V0cCZsAoDMvwgZSUpQp5JjikXMTdY047W5Mo9VvSi9wmBvoykMfYiF7NSG3wzMcf3JPgpuc0JHdAPmJ0jH0Ccb42ZcF2qQrg_SmIk/s800/IrelandTourGroup.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEyBQZkEphKyQDWS5WtJ-FhtQKqgX6mojUi39RKIHwwY4rf9ZyT6Ee96lusg9nXOXmgoMaOPZ7429k89V0cCZsAoDMvwgZSUpQp5JjikXMTdY047W5Mo9VvSi9wmBvoykMfYiF7NSG3wzMcf3JPgpuc0JHdAPmJ0jH0Ccb42ZcF2qQrg_SmIk/w400-h266/IrelandTourGroup.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our (mostly) jolly holiday tour group. I seriously love nine of these people.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br />Most of our group loved the traditional Irish song and dance night at the <a href="https://www.mpbpub.com/index.html" target="_blank">Merry Ploughboy</a>. Chad and I fell more in the camp of politely smile and bear the evening's show. Remember in an earlier post when I told you to go ahead and enjoy what you enjoy? It's acceptable for different people to like different things. I appreciate the cultural heritage of dance and song, but that doesn't mean I need two hours of it at ear-splitting volume. Guess what the vegetarian option was for dinner at Merry Ploughboy? Yes! It was veggie curry! Are you psychic? Quick, what are the numbers for the lottery?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After the dinner show, our tour group members said our goodbyes to each other in the hotel lobby. I hugged a select group of my favorite tour companions, and ducked out before my not-favorite tour companions could make their way across the crowded lobby. Most tour group members still keep in touch on WhatsApp.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The following morning, the British tour group members had to be in the hotel lobby by 5:45 to catch a ferry at 6:15. The nine Americans from our group, Chad and I included, got to sleep in a bit, and have a leisurely breakfast at the hotel. Our cab showed up right on time to take us to the Dublin airport. The Irish airport staff were all so friendly, even at customs! Everything went smoothly for our flight from Dublin to Boston. We very much enjoyed the Delta Comfort Plus seats on that flight. We looked forward to the Delta Comfort Plus seats on our next flight from Boston direct to Austin. Hahahahahahahahahaha! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We had a four hour layover in Boston. Our flight did not board on time. I started feeling antsy. The Delta gates at the Boston airport got more and more crowded. Chad started to feel bad, and bundled himself in a travel blanket, like a six foot tall, gangly, swaddled baby. I figured he was just exhausted from so many days of travel. Chad perked up momentarily when we saw Conan O'Brien walk by in all of his unmistakable lankiness. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I started hearing announcements that some flights had their gates moved. I thought maybe our flight would be delayed a bit. No big deal. Hahahahahahaha! At the time we should have been taxiing the runway for takeoff, the announcement came that our flight from Boston to Austin got canceled! The Federal Aviation Administration ordered a full ground stop at Boston airport that night, because flight routes were jammed up with inclement weather, and many of the short-staffed flight crews were about to go over their safety mandated work hours limits. The line to get to the Delta service desk was hundreds of stranded travelers deep. Even if we stood in that long line, the best Delta could offer was a cot on the floor at Boston airport for the night, and maybe a flight to Austin with a connection through some other city in about two days. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There was not a spare hotel room to be found near the airport. That day in Boston was popping with events: Boston Red Sox MLB game, Boston Celtics NBA Finals game, and a PGA golf event in town. Despite feeling bad, Chad got on his phone and found a hotel for the night in a suburb thirty minutes ride outside of Boston. He also booked an American Airlines direct flight to Austin the next day. Guess where our seats were on that flight? Chad had the middle seat of the back row next to the bathroom. I had the middle seat in the next to the last row! Hahahahahahahahahaha! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was just so happy to be going home finally, albeit a a day later than planned. Big thanks to our cat-sitter from <a href="https://lovingpetcare.info/" target="_blank">Loving Pet Care</a> for showing up an extra day on short notice!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A not so fun souvenir of our trip came in the form of positive COVID-19 tests the morning after we got home. Yes, Chad and I were both vaccinated, and both had a booster. Thanks to those shots, our illnesses weren't too bad. Honestly I couldn't untangle the jet lag, from travel exhaustion, from COVID-19. We both stayed home for ten days, and produced negative COVID-19 tests before rejoining polite society. We saw on the WhatsApp trip member group chat, that lots of other group members also caught the dreaded COVID-19. Thankfully, all recovered. (You may be wondering: each tour group member had to show proof of vaccination to be allowed on the tour.) </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm so glad that Chad and I got to finally take this trip to Ireland! Republic of Ireland is a beautiful place with welcoming people. That said, I would not book through the same company again. I thought there would be more train travel. Apparently this is a common complaint for this particular Irish tour package. Our tour bus carried our luggage from place to place, making the train travel completely unnecessary. I'm not sure that we saw much from the train that couldn't be seen from the bus. Also, Chad and I felt very out of place for the age demographics. Some of our tour elders were so welcoming and lovely, but others went out of their way to make us feel like sore thumbs sticking out. I get it. We were unwitting interlopers with our (relatively) good knees and our young at heart, middle-aged joie de vivre. I didn't love all of those monotonous hotel dinners. I would have liked getting out to local restaurants more. For a first trip to Republic of Ireland, wow, we saw all of the things! I'm glad that we had a company planning and booking everything for us. I also wish we had been able to skip some things we weren't interested in to allow for more time at other attractions we liked better. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thanks for joining for the Irish trip travelogue! I hope you've been able to get outside of your pandemic bubble safely, or that you've happily embraced your inner homebody.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I never shared our trip to Santa Fe, New Mexico from October 2021. Maybe look forward to that soon on this blog? Or maybe I'll write a ghost story over here? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-66827388682859878222022-08-27T12:37:00.001-06:002022-08-27T12:37:29.749-06:00Ninety Minutes in Galway & Strangers on a Train to Dublin<p>When I tell friends about my trip to Ireland, many ask, "Did you go to Galway? Didn't you love Galway? I loved it!" Not wanting to disappoint my enthusiastic friends, I smile and nod, and let them gush over their time in Galway. Truthfully, our tour group spent a little less than ninety minutes in Galway before we had to hop on a train to Dublin. We were set loose with the only direction to meet our tour leader outside of the train station at an appointed time. Left to our own devices, Chad and I walked very quickly a few blocks radius around the train station, snapping photos of anything that looked important or charming. We didn't spend any time in the local pubs. We didn't soak in the ambiance. We didn't chat up any locals. We just hurried through the city center. </p><p><br /></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/AVvXsEgeeZd-6ZjbqnKT2sf6DJBeA0JCX9ZsUL0sDJAnBsGxCcXqDQCnG7GqRUmO-Fq7U9qSBG1mxQQEP51TZlmZiKz6EVNBf4svUE_hvl8MiAq5H8Uy8uuW4fZDLdBo0h81TBnp3dWcg8SqPvh9F19yjm7soBkvwJYAP5AT0SS1dPq-61Sde3sEP9s/s4032/GalwayPub.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeeZd-6ZjbqnKT2sf6DJBeA0JCX9ZsUL0sDJAnBsGxCcXqDQCnG7GqRUmO-Fq7U9qSBG1mxQQEP51TZlmZiKz6EVNBf4svUE_hvl8MiAq5H8Uy8uuW4fZDLdBo0h81TBnp3dWcg8SqPvh9F19yjm7soBkvwJYAP5AT0SS1dPq-61Sde3sEP9s/w300-h400/GalwayPub.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cute pub that we didn't enter</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEgKN5oagK9TvKKIYN9NerFrLWcmdtgcZcJ7J9rsnsj6rYoMXkbz2M5gbGNVtlxIoEclJC02x-KGTKH7f8RZoA1zfg1qhl_O2SuQsDfO8oAvNHmvMRo90LEBOmyKlurpGZkDuWO_DAuxzcUldppEWtAwjVOqNrbDTWtc87AJuiF9fRSOT4irPog/s4032/GalwayChurch.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKN5oagK9TvKKIYN9NerFrLWcmdtgcZcJ7J9rsnsj6rYoMXkbz2M5gbGNVtlxIoEclJC02x-KGTKH7f8RZoA1zfg1qhl_O2SuQsDfO8oAvNHmvMRo90LEBOmyKlurpGZkDuWO_DAuxzcUldppEWtAwjVOqNrbDTWtc87AJuiF9fRSOT4irPog/w300-h400/GalwayChurch.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't know, some church or maybe a prison?</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEitDpROXEDB4w5gcoixTsUTB8z1k-1tBreejRN46IzLBQ5uq9kuSk2-GfiEjsjWFlQSha72O_uZEm406vvNUBFQsQ82aaHGY_iwxDaxiTUcAKUtVpiy6dA2BkmD9NNKGMiBoavl6hyX4AJiZ_-DwLs8jDMRXa-TslqjzS2Er__LATvwI8w--1g/s4032/GalwayAuthor.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitDpROXEDB4w5gcoixTsUTB8z1k-1tBreejRN46IzLBQ5uq9kuSk2-GfiEjsjWFlQSha72O_uZEm406vvNUBFQsQ82aaHGY_iwxDaxiTUcAKUtVpiy6dA2BkmD9NNKGMiBoavl6hyX4AJiZ_-DwLs8jDMRXa-TslqjzS2Er__LATvwI8w--1g/w300-h400/GalwayAuthor.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oscar Wilde statue</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEjbax8o7OHj7589Fmjfkll1HUOgJKB3iWr4RdfpIa5LinyrbfFxXYHURNnAnWHW3hOOBvBl7Kv-G8IQMkiMmax6R2DLa1WN5c8-hwEcZ9dQW33KvXxibP-fLEdGpmmQ17hhI6ck6ZhMckS97esGa_mXapmNRi8__1zw7szGZOZf9nQ7L0R9pDU/s4032/GalwaySculpture.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbax8o7OHj7589Fmjfkll1HUOgJKB3iWr4RdfpIa5LinyrbfFxXYHURNnAnWHW3hOOBvBl7Kv-G8IQMkiMmax6R2DLa1WN5c8-hwEcZ9dQW33KvXxibP-fLEdGpmmQ17hhI6ck6ZhMckS97esGa_mXapmNRi8__1zw7szGZOZf9nQ7L0R9pDU/w300-h400/GalwaySculpture.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Galway Hooker Monument (I looked it up later.)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEg3oa1a5tZHUlI_zBCMMKeXx6v05h1NPjcI1EKQbtyX62WtZVoish-mACj7bHwuij0M_zm6WSDoTILQz58016-iqzK9gOFBSD_NeXNRvtOzv_XiiU_ekZERnhXeB_ToJy9tEjG7qO0M74LIgQ1XdoiBHwvPN8INA6yAJ4cHtmERPdxGdYBBrhQ/s4032/GalwayBar.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3oa1a5tZHUlI_zBCMMKeXx6v05h1NPjcI1EKQbtyX62WtZVoish-mACj7bHwuij0M_zm6WSDoTILQz58016-iqzK9gOFBSD_NeXNRvtOzv_XiiU_ekZERnhXeB_ToJy9tEjG7qO0M74LIgQ1XdoiBHwvPN8INA6yAJ4cHtmERPdxGdYBBrhQ/w300-h400/GalwayBar.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some other cute bar that we also didn't enter</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzkcATgArMXico1bb3B__-c9E2bFclEpfrXB0K6xjGoykGoEu0uqfr8C83eZgNsyGq-4WyGeKQ6tf4' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Walking ahead of me is Chris, an Englishman with lots of photos of his grandkids.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Chad and I made it to the train station on time. We took the modern, bland, commuter train to Dublin. We had to chat with some American tourist randos who sat with us on the train. I should really get better about putting in earphones and staring moodily out the window. Chad and I are both cursed with the people-pleaser, try-hard genes, and are usually too polite for our own good. At this point in our trip, I was happy to chat with most of the members of our own tour group, but I really didn't want to expend the emotional energy to feign interest for other American tourist strangers. On the train near us, there was also a group of young women in their best and brightest going out clothes, hairdos, and extensive makeup. They were headed to a concert in Dublin by Irish rock band <a href="https://www.thescriptmusic.com/" target="_blank">The Script</a>. They were giddy with excitement, and so cute with anticipation of their first pandemic era concert. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In Dublin, our group tried to check in at our next hotel, but none of our rooms were ready. Our tour leader, Richard, sat in the hotel lobby guarding luggage for several hours while the rest of us ventured out for some free time in Dublin. Chad and I walked with Trish and Reg (two of our favorite tour elders) to <a href="https://www.guinness-storehouse.com/en" target="_blank">Guinness Storehouse</a> for respective pre-booked self-guided tours. The route covered 2.9 km/1.8 miles. Trish kept a brisk pace with me. Reg started to lag near the end, and Chad hung back with him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Trish told me that she caught some man checking me out. I laughed and explained that I'm happily married, way too old for that young man, and that he probably wasn't even looking at me. Then Trish asked, "So is Chad older than you?" </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I replied, "No. I'm actually older. I robbed the cradle by two years." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Trish looked impressed and proclaimed, "He's your toy-boy! Well done!" Trish told me that her daughter is a a few years older than I am, and said conspiratorially, "So I could be your mum." I think of Trish more like my fun, cheeky, British aunt who can walk really fast.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://www.guinness-storehouse.com/en" target="_blank">Guinness Storehouse</a> is like Disneyland for all things beer production and distribution. It gets crowded in some sections, especially in the 360 degree panoramic bar on the top floor. I don't like the taste of Guinness beer. Blech. But I enjoyed the whole Guinness Storehouse experience. If you're a tourist in Dublin, go to Guinness Storehouse. Book a timed entry online beforehand to avoid long lines. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Our hotel in Dublin was the <a href="https://www.belvederehoteldublin.com/" target="_blank">Belvedere Hotel</a>. This hotel looks deceptively posh in the lobby with crystal bedazzled light fixtures and a sparkly bar just off the lobby. However, the hotel seems like two old buildings were joined into one bigger building with split-levels, meandering hallways, a labyrinthine system of short staircases, and two elevators for two separate wings of the hotel. We got lost a few times. There was no central air-conditioning in the hotel. Chad and I borrowed a fan from the front desk, opened the windows a smidge at night, and slept well. The bathroom was very modern with a walk in shower partitioned off by a clear glass wall. Unfortunately, the shower drain couldn't keep up with the healthy water pressure. Each time Chad or I showered a mini flood formed all over the bathroom floor. On the bright side, the view from of our hotel room windows was charmingly Irish with row houses featuring colorful entry doors.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzfmax22MfNe8mA_sJOkteXGyvP3hFaHzZkPulajtVxKL4B4hGknCS-IeaaJ7uqZEdJeHXX_qGiqdY' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>The vegetarian option for dinner at Belvedere Hotel was a delicious and light pasta dish. Finally, something other than veg curry! After dinner, many of our tour elders headed out to Dublin pubs for carousing and singalongs. Chad and I chose sleep, because we had a full day of Dublin sightseeing ahead of us. </div><div><br /></div><div>If you're not entirely sick of my Irish travelogue yet, come back next week for a final full day in Dublin. There's a lot of ground to cover still! </div><div><br /></div>Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-44141219241789511942022-08-21T22:10:00.003-06:002022-08-21T22:19:30.129-06:00Running Late to Connemara Sheep Dogs & Kylemore Abbey<p>Ready for another jam-packed itinerary touring the Republic of Ireland? Get some Irish breakfast tea down your neck, because we are on a tight schedule. First stop is the <a href="https://www.connemaracelticcrystal.com/" target="_blank">Connemara Celtic Crystal Factory</a> in Moycullen where we learned about the detail-heavy work of glass cutting, and the Celtic and Gaelic influences in the designs of fine crystal products made here. We watched a demonstration of the glass cutting by an actual Irish artisan. He had impressive skills and steady hands after many years of study and practice. Our tour group elders bought a lot of crystal vases, bowls and whiskey glasses at Connemara Celtic Crystal Factory. Chad and I met the shop cat. She was cute, but only wanted to be pet for about thirty seconds, thanks, and bye now. </p><p><br /></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/AVvXsEgtTubh5N3JzE3bdeyRKHPuU9fYmxoO5i-5bGzHNZbU2nPUGiO0DBKS9vR6RJl6n8IsPU19irjcTzG15lTKVR8VuZM_h70htmezQXX4AQfbdCCBkYwW2XN_mFSYKhg3vOPPbzhDuxhAWQD8vbR5MW7qdrSpIymnLYSO31XA_H4PO6Tqo4KSHw8/s4032/IrishShopCat.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtTubh5N3JzE3bdeyRKHPuU9fYmxoO5i-5bGzHNZbU2nPUGiO0DBKS9vR6RJl6n8IsPU19irjcTzG15lTKVR8VuZM_h70htmezQXX4AQfbdCCBkYwW2XN_mFSYKhg3vOPPbzhDuxhAWQD8vbR5MW7qdrSpIymnLYSO31XA_H4PO6Tqo4KSHw8/w300-h400/IrishShopCat.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Irish shop cat about to say, "that's enough now."</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Hurry, hurry, back on the bus. We're behind schedule, and the day has only just started. Our bus carried us through the verdant, rolling hills of <a href="https://www.ireland.com/en-us/destinations/regions/connemara/" target="_blank">Connemara,</a> dodging many sheep and a few lazy cows to <a href="https://glenkeenfarm.com/" target="_blank">Glen Keen Farm</a>. The main building of Glen Keen Farm is a cute lilac-pink color, and houses the restaurant and gift shop. Before heading inside, we met Jan, a sweet young sheep dog. Jan let me scratch her back while her caretaker teased me that she would probably hop on the bus with me after a good back scratching. Once our group all assembled, we watched Jan demonstrate her excellent sheep herding skills. It's quite impressive to witness.<div><br /><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/AVvXsEi84CY0e8D8gfOE1jyorcpKhCWBvvfWkWdJfBJJstQnIgy5oR7n2cFTdtGNmUjG1FSDW0xrCV44Rh51xgMick-uArGO89nE2BWQ-PiIrJjHmMmdYGiX4oilkuaibJl-vzAZcUS8Q5fjKD-Ho6RMoMHEvMysm-9lA57Oa6nfd8FVVRGa-FlY-CE/s4032/GlenKeen.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi84CY0e8D8gfOE1jyorcpKhCWBvvfWkWdJfBJJstQnIgy5oR7n2cFTdtGNmUjG1FSDW0xrCV44Rh51xgMick-uArGO89nE2BWQ-PiIrJjHmMmdYGiX4oilkuaibJl-vzAZcUS8Q5fjKD-Ho6RMoMHEvMysm-9lA57Oa6nfd8FVVRGa-FlY-CE/w300-h400/GlenKeen.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jan, the goodest dog in Ireland</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwfv2j80NKDYVr8eP-RhjUQs8bd9zexxJ_LyeYiRsdvToqCkuPLUAG72NILymmJWh_FgjVRXTNW5TY' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">The lunch at Glen Keen Farm was the best meal I had during my nine days in the Republic of Ireland. We were treated to veggie quiche, a small green salad, a carrot with swede salad, strong Irish tea, and fresh baked scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam. The entertainment during lunch consisted of Irish songs and singalong, Irish musical instruments with explanation and demonstration, and old-style Irish dance. For the singalongs, it seemed that everyone in our group except Chad and me knew all the words and notes. Did Chad and I miss a tutorial on popular Irish songs? Was it a generational thing? Are we buzzkills who don't spend enough time in pubs? Probably all of the aforementioned. And I'm honestly fine with that.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><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/AVvXsEihkARaGI-XQ2EvFkjz1VDzciMabjStOjuTC2nMoPOV37zJzoFMYXVDm0SOXglyiq__Hr9d10yj33tWQWOriuJdDwWQ8O21AVqinoPQd-1hyIxvtbvSOCEMKZAKLv00nI5oM7EV4_e-P99xsB7znJ0XTBLA9D-qkyO56dZL4UxjnaO4dmyRRmE/s4032/GlenKeenMusic.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihkARaGI-XQ2EvFkjz1VDzciMabjStOjuTC2nMoPOV37zJzoFMYXVDm0SOXglyiq__Hr9d10yj33tWQWOriuJdDwWQ8O21AVqinoPQd-1hyIxvtbvSOCEMKZAKLv00nI5oM7EV4_e-P99xsB7znJ0XTBLA9D-qkyO56dZL4UxjnaO4dmyRRmE/w300-h400/GlenKeenMusic.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paul from our group on drum, actual Irish guy on Irish flute</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Our group ran behind schedule nearly from the start on this day, so we jumped back on the bus very shortly after lunch. Our bus wound its way back through the rolling hills, meandering sheep, occasional scenic lakes (or loughs as they are called locally), and out to a bigger road. Soon enough, an imposing mansion appeared on the horizon with a dramatic backdrop of green hills and a lake in the foreground to provide an admirable reflection. <a href="https://www.kylemoreabbey.com/?utm_source=mybusiness&utm_medium=organic" target="_blank">Kylemore Abbey</a> looks like a Victorian take on a royal castle. The mansion was built from 1863 to 1868 by Mitchell Henry, a wealthy politician and former doctor from Manchester England. Henry and his family lived there until 1903, when it was bought by the Duke and Duchess of Manchester. Since 1920, the former private estate has been owned and run by the Benedictine community. The grounds, gardens and exterior view of the mansion are breathtaking with so much to explore! Only a portion of the mansion interior is staged with period furniture and historic informational displays. I was slightly disappointed that more of the mansion was not open for guests, but there are still nuns living and working at Kylemore Abbey. I guess it can't all be open for gawping at? Like Sister Mary Annette needs for her humble quarters to be closed to tourists? </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Chad and I walked as fast as we could to see the two massive gardens, the lake path, the Neo-Gothic church, and the partial interior of the house. Despite our speedy efforts, we didn't have time for a visit to the gift shop with award winning chocolate made by the nuns. We didn't have time for the Tea House or the Kylemore Kitchen. I wish our group had another hour at Kylemore Abbey. Back on the bus, I heard some of our tour elders saying that they only made it to the gardens, or only made it through the house exhibit area. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><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/AVvXsEiK91XD1W4wgX2xNLoCl5ZBdGflqQPDM-gj637uWeja9nD0AXuW4elrS4zHFE-L2s7xGpttR1IuTDBstdIeFR4Py4wGnIUlyE2zDpQxEVirpbRpdkEtzuOC8FIz8OW8dTWNxgIDAOfQ976DCBnA1vEjUdRSR3dl6mcuGkDF0UMKdE0sDNFTBwQ/s4032/KylemoreExt.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK91XD1W4wgX2xNLoCl5ZBdGflqQPDM-gj637uWeja9nD0AXuW4elrS4zHFE-L2s7xGpttR1IuTDBstdIeFR4Py4wGnIUlyE2zDpQxEVirpbRpdkEtzuOC8FIz8OW8dTWNxgIDAOfQ976DCBnA1vEjUdRSR3dl6mcuGkDF0UMKdE0sDNFTBwQ/w300-h400/KylemoreExt.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kylemore Abbey exterior</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEiML6YovKbpYFIij1B94ipftQDyH47ceh3AXBkbK33wA9StvTwCMbTzQdZ8XW_tXSu4_DcTTY5bgbU_nqBIEcrK5IXJ-EZtQeCbGwLvaC0IF5i9qooFYztvjKxcuUdHrIj9hqQ_8aG5gG6mtWbnQOk6NDG8aMBAxd2MKyTNJl_jL9lPFCYMpt4/s4032/KylemoreWall.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiML6YovKbpYFIij1B94ipftQDyH47ceh3AXBkbK33wA9StvTwCMbTzQdZ8XW_tXSu4_DcTTY5bgbU_nqBIEcrK5IXJ-EZtQeCbGwLvaC0IF5i9qooFYztvjKxcuUdHrIj9hqQ_8aG5gG6mtWbnQOk6NDG8aMBAxd2MKyTNJl_jL9lPFCYMpt4/w300-h400/KylemoreWall.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kylemore Abbey imposing wall</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEiFV8mc4KOp9RMs5TcIIsqkhL7YFaB-PvVnhbKYRNm0g9TA5n12ATLdSaMchMfmWoqTeCisCnJXhF04ofhV-vScBU28RXNtkrLThKDzcLKbfmhHJqs9lNw3RQJkw8rNo7NXw4W4Uy5ghT5iA32t-CsgaW4dIhyM2hPfKB6KBUDKNZ5p-Hr3340/s4032/KyelmoreBookshelf.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFV8mc4KOp9RMs5TcIIsqkhL7YFaB-PvVnhbKYRNm0g9TA5n12ATLdSaMchMfmWoqTeCisCnJXhF04ofhV-vScBU28RXNtkrLThKDzcLKbfmhHJqs9lNw3RQJkw8rNo7NXw4W4Uy5ghT5iA32t-CsgaW4dIhyM2hPfKB6KBUDKNZ5p-Hr3340/w300-h400/KyelmoreBookshelf.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kylemore Abbey bookshelf, complete with fancy tophat</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzPcWod4jXdx6aZ6IN-PgKPVJGY3fnupQpmVOxGIsJf0Rxqn7l0WNXyeYxRZxUoSxEEpjULHzq0GU0' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">On the way back to the hotel, our bus got caught behind a tourist in a rental car driving well below the speed limit, refusing to let our bus pass. Since our group ran behind schedule all day, this made us late for dinner. Our tour manager, Richard, called ahead to the hotel restaurant to let them know of our tardy arrival.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><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/AVvXsEjhNClHoK7rRcxfcxf3yJ0ntsRnocT_UpxpFBrjfnajJbqJlhdYPRhUb9FQLQC5F5hcaoDUPgDfdsRv5iOmvdjTojvBnKT17TVKK14nZ5EgCyWw417blpzvlHu-INNElp9Po0LFA38_6NwLcqNrMkTIR2T4k30Vip-6i9urfRLVnhgKsHOs5M8/s4032/IrishTown.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhNClHoK7rRcxfcxf3yJ0ntsRnocT_UpxpFBrjfnajJbqJlhdYPRhUb9FQLQC5F5hcaoDUPgDfdsRv5iOmvdjTojvBnKT17TVKK14nZ5EgCyWw417blpzvlHu-INNElp9Po0LFA38_6NwLcqNrMkTIR2T4k30Vip-6i9urfRLVnhgKsHOs5M8/w300-h400/IrishTown.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cute view from a quick stop in Cong</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">At dinner Chad and I sat with our bus driver, Conor. We all bonded over Irish authors we like and our respective pets adopted from pet rescues. Conor's wife works with a local pet rescue group in their hometown of Donegal. Near the end of dinner, Conor asked, "Why'd you come with this group? There's tour groups from America." I explained that I booked the tour through an American company, not realizing that our group would be a majority of British (mostly English, a few Welsh) people. I also explained that I had no clues and no hints about the tours being so heavily favored by retired people, but that we were having fun with our group, and at times struggling to match their fast pace. I also confided to him in a hushed voice, "The other people in our tour group can outdrink us, outsing us, and don't need nearly as much sleep as we do. They are in it to win it!"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div>Technically our tour manager for this trip was Richard from Great Rail Journeys, but this was also Richard's first trip to Ireland. Richard did a good job of ensuring we mostly stuck to our schedule, and that logistics ran smoothly. Richard had prepared notes that he read about different landscapes and historical facts for locations, but it was bus driver Conor who told Richard how to pronounce Irish words and names. It was Conor who told Richard about the best local places to stop for lunch, restroom breaks, and scenic photo opportunities. It was Conor who told us all the local lore and local points of interest. So hail to the bus driver, an unsung hero, who not only delivered us safely to each location, but who also guided our tour to a large extent. </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/AVvXsEiqRutqrDIrRm9lZ2Ic_bKj1veof5Z4Zq_k--lWgFDhmKrhEfboHME8asHD4N8Mqveen_MYOuX_gf0qv35DEeebeLGYO7SuaiD7FBRIz9YBHareDpIOT_OTdVJ11uwupfpJ7dmjxla4Y3ZXYyeqDTb4gP4eWCFvlX3fZEWRZtLa4AfynJwbPmA/s800/BusDriverConor.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="786" data-original-width="800" height="393" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqRutqrDIrRm9lZ2Ic_bKj1veof5Z4Zq_k--lWgFDhmKrhEfboHME8asHD4N8Mqveen_MYOuX_gf0qv35DEeebeLGYO7SuaiD7FBRIz9YBHareDpIOT_OTdVJ11uwupfpJ7dmjxla4Y3ZXYyeqDTb4gP4eWCFvlX3fZEWRZtLa4AfynJwbPmA/w400-h393/BusDriverConor.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hail to the bus driver, Conor! Photo by Valerie from our group.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>There's even more Ireland trip to recount. Drop by next week for more Irish sightseeing!</div>Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-32637562355147191592022-08-13T01:40:00.000-06:002022-08-13T01:40:24.442-06:00Shannon Ferry to Cliffs of Moher<p>I slept so well at the very comfortable and clean Rose Hotel Tralee. I was sad to have to leave that hotel after only two nights, but our tour group had to make tracks to the next series of destinations. Our group traveled north to Tarbet. There we, tour bus and all, boarded the Shannon Ferry across the Shannon Estuary. The temperatures topped out at only 57 degrees Fahrenheit/14 degrees Celsius that day, and the wind whipped across the water. I planned ahead with layers of warm clothing and a raincoat topper. I sometimes experience motion sickness on boats, even big ferries. I exited the bus and stood topside on the deck of the ferry for a few minutes. The cold, fresh air calmed my sensory system. Yay! None of the usual motion sickness!</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/AVvXsEjgWwYOzEbHOdEpThIShh4IUU8JDr1mBFRNY4kebAqTIr7srgnCQlE61N2pRlZmX6RHIPcvHck9vu0PdkWZHDse4vW0S2rfeh13PRaCEgaYHXKSGMAVVjpnwzMMNA_G-ot2tJi6zmkZiKl4S9WIajuGxv1OlLw2XdeAwpLrxovPLMMQ5-3ohyQ/s4032/ShannonFerry.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgWwYOzEbHOdEpThIShh4IUU8JDr1mBFRNY4kebAqTIr7srgnCQlE61N2pRlZmX6RHIPcvHck9vu0PdkWZHDse4vW0S2rfeh13PRaCEgaYHXKSGMAVVjpnwzMMNA_G-ot2tJi6zmkZiKl4S9WIajuGxv1OlLw2XdeAwpLrxovPLMMQ5-3ohyQ/w300-h400/ShannonFerry.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How many buses fit on a ferry? Um, 6?</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwqfwt2aCbq70EVgD_ivYubMMVlbJfELRuGzhBiWIpUjJtTqdR7qC2UBc8WEuMraid46b00o1K5anc' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Upon landing on the other side of the estuary, our tour bus drove through County Clare to the Cliffs of Moher on the southwestern edge. These dramatic and sheer cliffs tower 510 feet/155 meters above the churning Atlantic Ocean. <a href="https://www.cliffsofmoher.ie/" target="_blank">The Cliffs of Moher Experience</a> safeguards visitors from the cliffs with fencing and wide walkways positioned safely back from the dangerous edge of land. The whipping wind is beyond blustery, like seriously tie down your hat and anything you don't want to lose. The pathway around the small castle-like building, <a href="https://www.cliffsofmoher.ie/obriens-tower-at-the-cliffs/" target="_blank">O'Brien's Tower </a>was very crowded. If you choose to walk beyond <a href="https://www.cliffsofmoher.ie/obriens-tower-at-the-cliffs/" target="_blank">O'Brien's Tower</a> caution signs soon appear that you are leaving the Cliffs of Moher Experience, that rock slides do occur, and that your safety is not ensured. The wire fencing on either side of the narrow dirt path past that point barely gives two people room to get by each other. Just don't. Instead, turn around and head back in the other direction for more breathtaking views along the other side of the official, and much safer, Cliffs of Moher Experience. The farther you go in the direction opposite O'Brien's Tower, the less crowded the walkways become. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">At a certain point, Chad and I decided we had soaked our eyeballs in enough of the dramatic cliff scenery, and that we had enough punishment from the sheer winds. The Visitor Center provided much-needed shelter from the elements. We had lunch at the little cafeteria. The food there was surprisingly good, especially after eating so many monotonous hotel dinners. The little cafeteria even had a small green salad! Fed and recovered somewhat from all the buffeting winds, Chad and I perused some interesting interactive displays about the geological formation of the burren and cliffs, the animals (including puffins), and the plants of the area. Upstairs from the main displays, we found a touch screen program with historical details of Irish family names. Sure enough, I found my family name there! My only regret about the Cliffs of Moher Experience is that we did not see any puffins in real life. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><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/AVvXsEhoa-PSABoEZtKceU94wPV-4ql6TxFwVC4ldS-n5CAVNo2V9fQv4fGc1jSg8AjgnFL1U4b8BzzM0-f-jbTJnOnkbAc5-4hujyR3Hgbs04KnwIdGU6Br0k6eKmTL4aZlxsHVapsx0vzMJgA0E-o8INpHrwnJDpIPwceYvSlQ_QNg-GLHBvV6qPI/s4032/CliffsMoher.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoa-PSABoEZtKceU94wPV-4ql6TxFwVC4ldS-n5CAVNo2V9fQv4fGc1jSg8AjgnFL1U4b8BzzM0-f-jbTJnOnkbAc5-4hujyR3Hgbs04KnwIdGU6Br0k6eKmTL4aZlxsHVapsx0vzMJgA0E-o8INpHrwnJDpIPwceYvSlQ_QNg-GLHBvV6qPI/w300-h400/CliffsMoher.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking towards O'Brien's Tower at Cliffs of Moher</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><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/AVvXsEjwpdXAlAVXJd1Bd6800k9G9x3VdYawnKrxOYw6hDw9dZm88NPd3XfJX5Cjn5s4KvFY6Uqe9VSEV9_pxY6nKcpPyC_oxzJni25uwMcBflVoSUiWl5iipQ2G0yh1kbwP3wDuHizYnGA5n28Mp1dLG-85r2MNRRhRzsrmWHpm9dSL3UneT4kgtAY/s1500/Puffins-header.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwpdXAlAVXJd1Bd6800k9G9x3VdYawnKrxOYw6hDw9dZm88NPd3XfJX5Cjn5s4KvFY6Uqe9VSEV9_pxY6nKcpPyC_oxzJni25uwMcBflVoSUiWl5iipQ2G0yh1kbwP3wDuHizYnGA5n28Mp1dLG-85r2MNRRhRzsrmWHpm9dSL3UneT4kgtAY/w400-h266/Puffins-header.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Puffins that we did not get to see at Cliffs of Moher</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><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/AVvXsEizJ0c2qenRWt43YBL11pekIhpiRswGdP7JXEBjxXYe0KWAHJyV9xaNCHg0SLB-15Z-J9nXLNo0iUUgm0bq3rnCJxZxKtQzn3-QXugE2NCTziz_h1_VHu43etMmqf3AiQplvi4ldTgIhx8Zg-U6E8BzY_EblGK0oETQK_Yhss6U-0h0lLir3u0/s4032/IrishRegan1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizJ0c2qenRWt43YBL11pekIhpiRswGdP7JXEBjxXYe0KWAHJyV9xaNCHg0SLB-15Z-J9nXLNo0iUUgm0bq3rnCJxZxKtQzn3-QXugE2NCTziz_h1_VHu43etMmqf3AiQplvi4ldTgIhx8Zg-U6E8BzY_EblGK0oETQK_Yhss6U-0h0lLir3u0/w300-h400/IrishRegan1.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Regan family crest via touch screen at Cliffs of Moher Visitor Center</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Our tour bus made its way to the next destination, driving through new-to-me terrain of the <a href="https://www.burrennationalpark.ie/" target="_blank">Burren National Park</a>. Loosely translated from old Irish, the word burren means "rocky place." Think of huge shelves of rock hills. The burren landscape contained a kind of desolate beauty with swirling swaths of greenery daring to pop up every once in a while. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir89ePT98cnS-5aIqn87A07SNGGZS80Pnixb48G6adsdoyvNr-YV4gjYJU8Uwut3J1owDjS74VE8C0pyr3Zjr_CF4fpgYFm6YNVRF-ZN-U35ZaIIxli_cOkcPxnb4ZNAWBSDbw0GD57IgAheBDe1ksbgGncbekVL34sNdfIKPfUyF3cr8FQDE/s910/the-burren-ireland-burren-irish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="607" data-original-width="910" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir89ePT98cnS-5aIqn87A07SNGGZS80Pnixb48G6adsdoyvNr-YV4gjYJU8Uwut3J1owDjS74VE8C0pyr3Zjr_CF4fpgYFm6YNVRF-ZN-U35ZaIIxli_cOkcPxnb4ZNAWBSDbw0GD57IgAheBDe1ksbgGncbekVL34sNdfIKPfUyF3cr8FQDE/w400-h266/the-burren-ireland-burren-irish.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj_o5JCd1bEyHRjz7jp2DD-sjcesozr_mZJXIPnbjgRB57muWRFmGxOiOhCJ2i2DAjQIclrhMoGNu47EVfkuEqbWBRd-O0syyxjvbOQ2du3zQUUaXNlvKChJG0NTNRPKj5fnIeo3mBT8XdfPRRP3WmbDHJLaFeQW2YjBwVzKyr_dEBWmF_vJw/s1024/SlieveRoeBurren.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj_o5JCd1bEyHRjz7jp2DD-sjcesozr_mZJXIPnbjgRB57muWRFmGxOiOhCJ2i2DAjQIclrhMoGNu47EVfkuEqbWBRd-O0syyxjvbOQ2du3zQUUaXNlvKChJG0NTNRPKj5fnIeo3mBT8XdfPRRP3WmbDHJLaFeQW2YjBwVzKyr_dEBWmF_vJw/w400-h300/SlieveRoeBurren.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO1D1WNDeYkmISzKkNEGtoI-Lecyqvr376FF0i7H65h2w7p00BOj4F2psR2kdAdKjpD869Rrf7cqbELElmAkr97_l928O7yvINobBQl4DTgXKUGWnkVkNjU-Tes-xa2-rWzdZ2ZP3qLRgU8gfw_vACvshA90Gky7ZHjrxXodMtVnjms6X2N-8/s850/the_burren_centre_1-850x700.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="850" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO1D1WNDeYkmISzKkNEGtoI-Lecyqvr376FF0i7H65h2w7p00BOj4F2psR2kdAdKjpD869Rrf7cqbELElmAkr97_l928O7yvINobBQl4DTgXKUGWnkVkNjU-Tes-xa2-rWzdZ2ZP3qLRgU8gfw_vACvshA90Gky7ZHjrxXodMtVnjms6X2N-8/w400-h330/the_burren_centre_1-850x700.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Our group stopped at the </span><a href="https://www.theburrencentre.ie/" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank">Burren Centre in Kilfenora</a><span style="text-align: left;"> which is </span><span style="text-align: left;">tucked into a cute little village. At the Burren Centre we watched a short film montage of some of the different types of Irish burren landscapes. Then we walked through the exhibition space with charming life-size dioramas of different animals and plant life of the burren. In addition to lots of historical information about the region, the Burren Centre also houses a whole room meant to look like a pub with information about the local music scene.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As afternoon turned into evening, we arrived at our group's hotel for the next two nights, the <a href="https://www.loughreahotelandspa.com/" target="_blank">Lough Rea Hotel and Spa</a>. The guest rooms here were clean, modern perfection. I slept so well here, even if on our first night at <a href="https://www.loughreahotelandspa.com/" target="_blank">Lough Rea Hotel and Spa</a>, there was a pack of semi-feral children, escaped from some event at the hotel, littering the stairs with candy wrappers and crushed candy bits, taking joy rides in the elevators, unaccompanied by any adult presence. Luckily the stomp-running up and down the hallways ended at a reasonable hour, as did the yelling and squeals of youthful joy. We'll have none of that past 8:00 PM!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Speaking of the perceived wasting of youth on the young, one of the elderly men on our tour cornered me in the dining room before dinner that night. He said that he overheard me saying how long my husband and I had been together. He said, "So you've known your husband over twenty years? I thought you were only in your twenties. I wondered what a couple of twenty-somethings were doing on OUR trip!" Feeling a bit peeved at this statement, I did a defiantly brave thing. I said my actual age aloud to this man and his wife. They said that they still have me, "beat by about thirty years." But they did seem a bit less hostile to me after that. So, yay! I think? Ageism is real, and goes in all sorts of directions.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>I found out that some of the members of our tour group went to local pubs each night after dinner. I was so tired after eleven hours of sightseeing each day and our hour-long 8:00 PM dinners each night, that I could barely get myself showered and under the covers before I began snoring loudly and having the twitchy eyelids of dreamland. I can't fathom how my elders on this tour had the energy for each day's busy itinerary and late nights at the local pubs!<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div>Tune in next week for more Irish travelogue. Thanks for following along.</div>Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-48800842488900499202022-08-05T18:02:00.005-06:002022-09-03T23:58:14.590-06:00Irish Travelogue In Chronological Order: Links<p>Some of you are new here, and maybe not following the Irish travelogue in chronological order. Here are the links to each blog post:</p><p><a href="http://www.therealjennc.com/2022/07/third-schedule-lucky-irish-charm.html" target="_blank">First post: third time scheduling this grand Irish adventure was finally the lucky charm amid pandemic times, plus fighting jet lag at the lovely gardens and grounds of Malahide Castle</a></p><p><a href="http://www.therealjennc.com/2022/07/cork-city-jameson-distillery.html" target="_blank">Second post: first full day with the tour group takes us to Cork City and Jameson Distiller</a>y</p><p><a href="http://www.therealjennc.com/2022/07/cobh-and-blarney.html" target="_blank">Third post: captivating Cobh and beautiful Blarney, plus enduring a show</a></p><p><a href="http://www.therealjennc.com/2022/08/the-ring-of-kerry-plus-horse-farts-in.html" target="_blank">Fourth post: the tight tour schedule tackles Kerry Bog Village, the Ring of Kerry, and back to Killarney for a horse drawn wagon ride, special laughter trigger warning: farts</a></p><p><a href="http://www.therealjennc.com/2022/08/shannon-ferry-to-cliffs-of-moher.html" target="_blank">Fifth post: the Cliffs of Moher, the Burren National Park, the Burren Centre in Kilfenora, and some thoughts on ageism</a></p><p><a href="http://www.therealjennc.com/2022/08/running-late-to-connemara-sheep-dogs.html" target="_blank">Sixth post: running late through Connemara to Glen Keen Farm and Kylemore Abbey</a></p><p><a href="http://www.therealjennc.com/2022/08/ninety-minutes-in-galway-strangers-on.html" target="_blank">Seventh post: ninety minutes in Galway, chatting with strangers on the train to Dublin, Guinness Storehouse with my honorary Aunt Trish</a></p><p><a href="http://www.therealjennc.com/2022/09/last-full-day-dublin.html" target="_blank">Eighth and final post: last full day in Dublin, travel huggermugger, reflections on our trip</a></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwa2lFTycFbIzZbMwfy9cH5CLgzt0VcDioiMqBUTzmrF4_3UZ9TPN_2XhlbByS_1unDQjO-RUJt90Y' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p>Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-7369783661401651532022-08-03T21:40:00.000-06:002022-08-03T21:40:12.946-06:00The Ring of Kerry, Plus Horse Farts in Killarney<p>The Ring of Kerry is to Ireland as the Road to Hana is to Maui. Both are major tourist attractions with breathtaking scenery and narrow roads featuring hairpin turns. Both are traveled by tourists in rented cars unfamiliar with the local landscape and road rules. Both are also populated with tour buses. Chad and I have traveled both the Ring of Kerry and the Road to Hana, because we're fancy. Okay, we're not terribly fancy, but we value shared experiences such as travel above material goods such as new luxury vehicles, an unnecessarily large house, jewelry, or a yacht. (Yes, we accepted an invitation to watch fireworks from a 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom luxury yacht last year. We expressed gratitude to our lovely hosts, but that baller lifestyle is not for us. Also, the fancy yacht owners struggled to find a boat slip after being unceremoniously booted from their original dock by a new property owner. Thus proving the old adage: big yacht, big problems.)</p><p>Our tour group departed from Tralee early in the morning to set out for the Ring of Kerry. Our first stop, the <a href="https://www.kerrybogvillage.ie/" target="_blank">Kerry Bog Village,</a> modeled dwellings and daily life of eighteenth and nineteenth century rural Ireland. The quaint thatch roof homes and workshops were interesting to see and explore. Some of the structures house life size mannequins depicting the days of yore. The mannequins look a bit uncanny, one might even say creepy, so be forewarned. Chad and I got to meet some ginormous Irish Wolfhounds. Their ancestors hunted wolves, elk, and wild boar. Upon exiting the Kerry Bog Village, we funneled into the adjacent Red Fox Inn for a warming Irish coffee. Irish coffee consists of Irish whiskey, hot coffee, brown sugar, and a whipped cream topper. I enjoyed a few sips, but more than that seems like courting an instant and aggressive hangover, in my opinion. (Disclaimer: I find coffee too bitter for my tastebuds and too stimulating for my anxiety. Naturally Irish coffee would hold the same very limited appeal for me as any other kind of coffee.)</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/AVvXsEgdFDnRN5U68rytU92onDjFH0GfVK95KmiQ--yAf9vBhPbt_0HxeBWvwMPGFs_oI9zsGmrNkTqVkN-ihBazpNtMx6S1zlQVMPbeoBZDxx6ycvXyeP2iTWINE4UqYrpvHzSBibJv-j5QovV421yLy5zMg566SBcH-xhb_1orNoxsX-bMAfHD2k0/s4032/KerryBogDude.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdFDnRN5U68rytU92onDjFH0GfVK95KmiQ--yAf9vBhPbt_0HxeBWvwMPGFs_oI9zsGmrNkTqVkN-ihBazpNtMx6S1zlQVMPbeoBZDxx6ycvXyeP2iTWINE4UqYrpvHzSBibJv-j5QovV421yLy5zMg566SBcH-xhb_1orNoxsX-bMAfHD2k0/w300-h400/KerryBogDude.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This guy had too much Irish coffee.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEiMaHJQEcGXQGuvmbPCz5ilEE6dxo3DZkmaXy3irJ9kQSt97eEw6PHXDVBhhy3-mdtcWtcoT60AwWwEJCNQQB5ng8Jd8XOptYE5F4agZ-3gE-65jOI18e04AF-tKdtnmt0J_didSp990EPJTcKPR_xf8D4A6FdlJRx_ZrlXMtItSFPYRM9JY5g/s4032/KerryBogCouple.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMaHJQEcGXQGuvmbPCz5ilEE6dxo3DZkmaXy3irJ9kQSt97eEw6PHXDVBhhy3-mdtcWtcoT60AwWwEJCNQQB5ng8Jd8XOptYE5F4agZ-3gE-65jOI18e04AF-tKdtnmt0J_didSp990EPJTcKPR_xf8D4A6FdlJRx_ZrlXMtItSFPYRM9JY5g/w300-h400/KerryBogCouple.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">voted cutest couple Kerry Bog Village </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEjz0YamUk--K6AIcn0sdjpmkKJ9I8OLALIlxGRbG6OwPuy4bv3WkAsoX-U6wQws5xYVxmivLkpZAc_9OZfEOW81hDX9CwnFovUx2EsSYT7nyB4HvakspO8cyKyHd0VKGZBW6WsGrhoTmWcHSARb0DeSD4gTG7c0l1jrTIzD8aBj4v8X1woaaN4/s4032/KerryWolfhound.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz0YamUk--K6AIcn0sdjpmkKJ9I8OLALIlxGRbG6OwPuy4bv3WkAsoX-U6wQws5xYVxmivLkpZAc_9OZfEOW81hDX9CwnFovUx2EsSYT7nyB4HvakspO8cyKyHd0VKGZBW6WsGrhoTmWcHSARb0DeSD4gTG7c0l1jrTIzD8aBj4v8X1woaaN4/w300-h400/KerryWolfhound.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our group got to meet Irish Wolfhounds.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />After being chatted up by a friendly local who advised us of other pubs and bars along the road, Chad and I hopped back on the tour coach at the appointed time. Our tour group had a tight schedule to keep! After our stop at the Kerry Bog Village, the scenery got progressively more alluring. The peat bogs and scrub land gave way to rolling verdant hills, moody beaches, and charming towns. The Ring of Kerry is 111 miles/179 kilometers long winding road on the Iveragh Peninsula in County Kerry. Our coach driver, Conor, knew all the best places to stop for panoramic vistas and photo opportunities, miles and miles of Instagram content!</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/AVvXsEjGugSYM3EwhFQqtNVXB-KFuwpDAAweGYD01PufWbbpONNIO9GOx6N5yJZOApiro-mIm5YlsW5PuSMrsR-zYhZMgmw4gDaZUMIznLuGaLBnf7qilVLxDvM4OC_WLdWU8wzc9CnIwzi2uEpysgqWYXg26dAPvoxC5FAgw_5XeOwDhf1xR3DaMu0/s4032/IMG_0901.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGugSYM3EwhFQqtNVXB-KFuwpDAAweGYD01PufWbbpONNIO9GOx6N5yJZOApiro-mIm5YlsW5PuSMrsR-zYhZMgmw4gDaZUMIznLuGaLBnf7qilVLxDvM4OC_WLdWU8wzc9CnIwzi2uEpysgqWYXg26dAPvoxC5FAgw_5XeOwDhf1xR3DaMu0/w300-h400/IMG_0901.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">magical vista with ocean, sky, and green hills</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEi6oBudVSXDXGlTi-2DBet37eUPeJLn1zykcisYWffBVnW6lce0ki92DPWY2NTNB6Pv6uG_BeP-OCw4agImP_CNg07UqL4-Bwi2s1EDYFhIflu3rvDPxj7U-qY1yEmwJxmuRa1J5cOhVm9_ulLn2tKtm74tyvzUm3q60JLa0xOB4etrotet9rQ/s4032/IMG_0899.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6oBudVSXDXGlTi-2DBet37eUPeJLn1zykcisYWffBVnW6lce0ki92DPWY2NTNB6Pv6uG_BeP-OCw4agImP_CNg07UqL4-Bwi2s1EDYFhIflu3rvDPxj7U-qY1yEmwJxmuRa1J5cOhVm9_ulLn2tKtm74tyvzUm3q60JLa0xOB4etrotet9rQ/w300-h400/IMG_0899.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">hills and sky, sky and hills</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEjhRy11uIUoii6h2geyfcszJgTx8TQCciQkhuDTf8HYJH2QMV2q8l5rgUE030aqAXx-_wUUH3X0bYdCEqaIzLweZAol8croZYkJjy5CLr3Hi6pRhEwUrBTrU0JfD8Hypm0yfQoxZ9Bx37VJwGIGgC9dN8oddBssbiVXhtLDttePzZaRJ5bB2eg/s4032/IMG_0897.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhRy11uIUoii6h2geyfcszJgTx8TQCciQkhuDTf8HYJH2QMV2q8l5rgUE030aqAXx-_wUUH3X0bYdCEqaIzLweZAol8croZYkJjy5CLr3Hi6pRhEwUrBTrU0JfD8Hypm0yfQoxZ9Bx37VJwGIGgC9dN8oddBssbiVXhtLDttePzZaRJ5bB2eg/w300-h400/IMG_0897.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">charming oceanside towns with row houses</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEjw52C5pXzBZi1tb0QiKblEnzvuDqDyP49KKiktzrbOBqHawnm9-JTOH7uF1bqxIUnSf33TltZmlglTRpyQGxI6gFK8siwrTnGg4ibn9otADnstubnfVOVV2ocxYpdyYTAcCVh3Q9FCIkRWzE6CCXCiWm_2sYNdZrcZONo607sa7QDByYTpCQk/s4032/IMG_0896.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw52C5pXzBZi1tb0QiKblEnzvuDqDyP49KKiktzrbOBqHawnm9-JTOH7uF1bqxIUnSf33TltZmlglTRpyQGxI6gFK8siwrTnGg4ibn9otADnstubnfVOVV2ocxYpdyYTAcCVh3Q9FCIkRWzE6CCXCiWm_2sYNdZrcZONo607sa7QDByYTpCQk/w300-h400/IMG_0896.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">one of many beautiful beaches on the Ring of Kerry</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Our coach stopped in the sweet town of <a href="https://sneem.ie/" target="_blank">Sneem</a> for lunch and general leg stretching. Chad and I had lunch at a little café. We walked, and gawped at the cuteness of the place. We found a little food truck called <a href="https://wholly-dough-doughnuts.business.site/?utm_source=gmb&utm_medium=referral" target="_blank">Wholly Dough Doughnuts</a> selling doughnuts and coffee. The truck parks on Church Street, just a few steps from the eponymous big church in town. The very friendly person working the doughnut truck talked with us about how the local church hosts a wedding every Saturday lately, due to all the weddings being postponed during the pandemic. We were there on a Saturday, and can confirm, a wedding was happening. <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/AVvXsEiQZSFKDClBAfLar8FXObcRngWUXSgEAekQUR_qdME2DtLenmUq-6IUDkzLY-rLqw6GTa-IysxPx1XYM7gKkQUVbXlG0SlskDWcyObAWKpOSuJEBX83q0zf2HgRP167wDIIVY5DTCyzG1IdP5c4z3r1nErhX_if7wXtiYwl-EvLnHI19iFvQPU/s4032/IMG_0902.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQZSFKDClBAfLar8FXObcRngWUXSgEAekQUR_qdME2DtLenmUq-6IUDkzLY-rLqw6GTa-IysxPx1XYM7gKkQUVbXlG0SlskDWcyObAWKpOSuJEBX83q0zf2HgRP167wDIIVY5DTCyzG1IdP5c4z3r1nErhX_if7wXtiYwl-EvLnHI19iFvQPU/w300-h400/IMG_0902.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sneem's cute river</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEgsdCdSs9NfapgJpz5cIVN111ticYnMGiT-gwRF5qrhlyYyMVxdPP2E-rteJFdmaZda9gs8iC1XBnSkrvolo8YwXSVhmefGrz1Xe_YRV7tSFMm0qu9hBu7fo_aacbUVwezN76knVm97mvphbT1ur400S3Nf1zsuBCzUNdtlM69E20BVBMuFxq4/s4032/IMG_0903.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsdCdSs9NfapgJpz5cIVN111ticYnMGiT-gwRF5qrhlyYyMVxdPP2E-rteJFdmaZda9gs8iC1XBnSkrvolo8YwXSVhmefGrz1Xe_YRV7tSFMm0qu9hBu7fo_aacbUVwezN76knVm97mvphbT1ur400S3Nf1zsuBCzUNdtlM69E20BVBMuFxq4/w300-h400/IMG_0903.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sneem being so cute and colorful</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><div><br /></div><div>Most every Irish person we encountered in Ireland was friendly. Many would say, "you're most welcome," when we entered their shops, restaurants, hotels, museums, etc. Many would chat with us in a relaxed and friendly fashion, without pretense or posturing. I really loved the vibe in most of the Irish places we experienced on our trip, and especially in the smaller towns and villages. <br /><p>Our tour group traveled through the rest of the Ring of Kerry and back to Killarney. Once there, our group split up to board three different <a href="https://killarneyjauntingcars.com/" target="_blank">jaunting cars</a> for horse drawn wagon rides through a short section of <a href="https://www.killarneynationalpark.ie/" target="_blank">Killarney National Park</a> passing briefly by <a href="https://www.killarneynationalpark.ie/visit-us/ross-castle/" target="_blank">Ross Castle</a> from some distance. Our fifteen year old jaunting car driver described local flora and fauna, told a few corny jokes, and safely delivered us to a hotel in Killarney for our group dinner. The horse pulling our jaunting car was quite flatulent, farting in perfect rhythm with her strides. Honestly it was both impressive and amusing. However, I was grateful to be at the end of the jaunting car farthest from the horse's hind end. I wish we could have walked ourselves through some of Killarney National Park. I wish we could have actually explored Ross Castle. But as aforementioned, our tour group kept a tight schedule!</p><p>At this point in our trip, I caught up on sleep pretty well and operated on local time pretty well. When we were in Republic of Ireland from June 8 through June 16 of 2022, sunset happened around 10:00 PM on average, and sunrise happened around 5:15 AM on average. That's way too much daylight time! I've never been so very thankful for blackout curtains! </p><p>You're most welcome back to this blog in less than ten days (hopefully?) for more Irish travelogue stuff.</p><p><br /></p></div></div>Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-21389655636880675892022-07-28T23:50:00.001-06:002022-07-29T12:30:30.646-06:00Cobh and Blarney<p>I fell asleep quickly at Midleton Park Hotel, exhausted by travel and jet lag. I slept soundly until about 6:00 AM local time. I tried to go back to sleep when I saw that I had another hour before my alarm, but couldn't. I peeked out the window of our hotel room, where I spied a cute chubby calico cat perched on the doorstep of a charming row house across the street. With my extra time that morning, I decided to take a leisurely approach to doing hair and makeup, and getting my suitcase packed up for the next destination.</p><p>Our tour group kept a brisk pace with a loaded itinerary. Our second full day with the group started with a drive to Cobh (pronounced "cove" according to our coach driver, Conor from Donegal.) I loved Cobh with its colorful buildings, charming main street, idyllic seaside views, and impressive giant church atop a hill. The harbor town currently known as Cobh, was originally called Cove. In 1849 Queen Victoria set foot on Irish soil for the first time at Cove. To honor the event, the name was changed from Cove to Queenstown. After the formation of the Irish Free State, the town again returned to the name Cove, but in Irish language form: Cobh. </p><p><br /></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/AVvXsEiIdyvVIxqUzMEAMqrMMUy47a7wiP0buGDPl6AUV6nacm9FiUfq94GutP8FHOwRBU9T0_rL7kvuso-M3OISHRDin01qXBJ6EdChpy6qW9S70SVIwoBVatcQN3VMaRsTIN56_W8xl1TKpINWMM_D5FYaca4V4OAicSv1-jUtKV71vDwzRkjVB2k/s4032/CobhStatue.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIdyvVIxqUzMEAMqrMMUy47a7wiP0buGDPl6AUV6nacm9FiUfq94GutP8FHOwRBU9T0_rL7kvuso-M3OISHRDin01qXBJ6EdChpy6qW9S70SVIwoBVatcQN3VMaRsTIN56_W8xl1TKpINWMM_D5FYaca4V4OAicSv1-jUtKV71vDwzRkjVB2k/w300-h400/CobhStatue.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">statue of Holy Mary at Cobh</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEhnbLn6WS5cc-zEsmlixWotsP7g3PoCmy-HjJIafzetkOLLF3_WIXtIKPlMmbY2_3R2zW523Y046EKzixpJNwGQGzmjejXDdVJDlsyFEVNH5tmMw61yZFf0YNjVDaxkSLi6ojAGKsYC922sVhfrm8fa7Q72yww-QAt8mZaZDS6i-x8uhUkZeT4/s4032/CobhPub.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnbLn6WS5cc-zEsmlixWotsP7g3PoCmy-HjJIafzetkOLLF3_WIXtIKPlMmbY2_3R2zW523Y046EKzixpJNwGQGzmjejXDdVJDlsyFEVNH5tmMw61yZFf0YNjVDaxkSLi6ojAGKsYC922sVhfrm8fa7Q72yww-QAt8mZaZDS6i-x8uhUkZeT4/w300-h400/CobhPub.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">cute pub near harbor</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEjidDK4OWy1kyi3I1Pd3lzXMHeV-gVBU1V6AtZFLXUOoJ0Gti51qVPwcoUOLT8EcpIEZSLrn_FyQqJ2FwE3qJo0isXZXj6MjxN_KB8-Z1sY6GUVHGLmt5M6FHisJkbbw84H06uCuahhFlTgCuVB7dh3pejZVzS0QtknYm8bUyzqBna7vXcEttk/s4032/CobhCoast.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjidDK4OWy1kyi3I1Pd3lzXMHeV-gVBU1V6AtZFLXUOoJ0Gti51qVPwcoUOLT8EcpIEZSLrn_FyQqJ2FwE3qJo0isXZXj6MjxN_KB8-Z1sY6GUVHGLmt5M6FHisJkbbw84H06uCuahhFlTgCuVB7dh3pejZVzS0QtknYm8bUyzqBna7vXcEttk/w300-h400/CobhCoast.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">hilltop view toward Cobh harbor</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEhdlbVMoVpdDHyG0LodqKuv6CdJ2DqkQw2etCEiwFghfrz2RRmXsUu52fu3PUQBAWKY1o-4asQdwuQJ6iXb2pzbSzvxrP4zglln55g4USM33hOB_Wx7FEoz2e9_1nFIHgSWdj0sMkXodrKfzRF4WhBta6Nu1qG1eTTWplroVzTC0Lru49hOR34/s4032/CobhBigChurch.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdlbVMoVpdDHyG0LodqKuv6CdJ2DqkQw2etCEiwFghfrz2RRmXsUu52fu3PUQBAWKY1o-4asQdwuQJ6iXb2pzbSzvxrP4zglln55g4USM33hOB_Wx7FEoz2e9_1nFIHgSWdj0sMkXodrKfzRF4WhBta6Nu1qG1eTTWplroVzTC0Lru49hOR34/w300-h400/CobhBigChurch.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Colman's Cathedral dominating the hilltop</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEi9b8o4J85tDGF-ZVya3eJ4wQDg4D3AQs8afNaiIpMj7PxSAnmm35dS5B__49F_EDFtCZCfJ82PqKcQ037q_q1K__uDnWnHmaS_mRnxzQmk-OHnt5RL8rXTwpCcSxX-YGiOLwV2PGEjkRG9EUe6sIcEAhd1XWIGivwqI9dRSK24mWv5u-z5BMQ/s4032/CobhTown.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9b8o4J85tDGF-ZVya3eJ4wQDg4D3AQs8afNaiIpMj7PxSAnmm35dS5B__49F_EDFtCZCfJ82PqKcQ037q_q1K__uDnWnHmaS_mRnxzQmk-OHnt5RL8rXTwpCcSxX-YGiOLwV2PGEjkRG9EUe6sIcEAhd1XWIGivwqI9dRSK24mWv5u-z5BMQ/w300-h400/CobhTown.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">cute colors in Cobh</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEjJHEj4yw92mCFkrZW2aPS62EhD4TfeqGVo24HFMqhgiR3Hr-_GOQU8700N-XKPui4YzHsmRLM4CSl8XEfK45hw4SNMyPXUIqNLAxgpeHR2zx8dwz2jRPflyf7ZhMdWkp9MnN3BQucmYeF_MPXwPD_0NaK_WkxoRbihN0K-iPj3q2zyhSRIbhM/s4032/CobhSmallChurch.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJHEj4yw92mCFkrZW2aPS62EhD4TfeqGVo24HFMqhgiR3Hr-_GOQU8700N-XKPui4YzHsmRLM4CSl8XEfK45hw4SNMyPXUIqNLAxgpeHR2zx8dwz2jRPflyf7ZhMdWkp9MnN3BQucmYeF_MPXwPD_0NaK_WkxoRbihN0K-iPj3q2zyhSRIbhM/w300-h400/CobhSmallChurch.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scots Church in Cobh</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Chad and I chose to visit the <a href="https://www.cobhheritage.com/" target="_blank">Cobh Heritage Centre</a>, rather than Titanic Experience Cobh, because our coach was parked right next to CBC. (Location, location, location!) I'm happy we experienced Cobh Heritage Centre, because it featured lots of good exhibits and information about many waves of Irish emigration, rather than just the Titanic ship story. I found the far-flung places of the Irish diaspora fascinating: Australia, Jamaica, Bermuda, Barbados, Argentina, Brazil, and many more places you might not expect!</p><p>After not quite enough time in Cobh, we hit the road to <a href="https://blarneycastle.ie/" target="_blank">Blarney Castle and Gardens</a>. Chad and I chose to forgo the ninety minute line to kiss the Blarney Stone, especially during these germy times. Instead we explored the gorgeous gardens and grounds surrounding the Blarney estate. The Blarney grounds are huge with over 60 acres! I loved the beautifully bewitching Poison Garden growing Wolfsbane, Mandrake, and Cat Mint. I also loved the Fern Garden complete with a waterfall and ferns cultivated to look tall like palm trees. I wish we had a little more time at Blarney. Chad and I definitely rushed through the lake walk trail to meet our tour coach on time.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><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/AVvXsEiFdDlWEdYUdjz3qacmDlZUq8m5KwtAz-mI_u66BN6uwBAX8GaEQkr2Ykw8fgR95hTSnaRVTcLvYBhiEOwVwrVTP8_esfZt1wIrpG704W2idVhryOALOQ6hYOKsae0MPxBonZHT-C6VdQe71thIL_MfER-00r6_NWP-PdOBY-Ak2acyB-vU_3Q/s4032/IMG_0880.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFdDlWEdYUdjz3qacmDlZUq8m5KwtAz-mI_u66BN6uwBAX8GaEQkr2Ykw8fgR95hTSnaRVTcLvYBhiEOwVwrVTP8_esfZt1wIrpG704W2idVhryOALOQ6hYOKsae0MPxBonZHT-C6VdQe71thIL_MfER-00r6_NWP-PdOBY-Ak2acyB-vU_3Q/w300-h400/IMG_0880.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blarney Castle</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-C8kN_eBiC1yy_rvZA6kqk2Yhuo_xBWED564TzrvEVxX57nwGA5ny7hNgQf3MEBwfO5MX3mtILtnW-H-4CA9oDn83jM-SDrVggW-sE5zA29Wy5KBACbuBVE-LPj3YDg2r0ObPspTy8Rza4xhxc8b3WLkjmbHjX9ZcTG6KJbYTqg0yvWxi0ro/s4032/BlarneyPoison.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-C8kN_eBiC1yy_rvZA6kqk2Yhuo_xBWED564TzrvEVxX57nwGA5ny7hNgQf3MEBwfO5MX3mtILtnW-H-4CA9oDn83jM-SDrVggW-sE5zA29Wy5KBACbuBVE-LPj3YDg2r0ObPspTy8Rza4xhxc8b3WLkjmbHjX9ZcTG6KJbYTqg0yvWxi0ro/w300-h400/BlarneyPoison.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGoqAPtG6G62T7o4Fmxd7s5ghPQmDerGORgHns24B6SHPEOZ2FdIcR8KQe8NhXiMJIPbGTtTH24iv-r3KCWigTP3aRIEwFhBDeV0sI04ly-SXB4rG48eaLBj2AuLEhWd8JOPxbo33aM9eSucVquxE9e7PHck-Y0e0kxWfIKRF-T2IJxe1QE-Y/s4032/BlarneyCatNip.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGoqAPtG6G62T7o4Fmxd7s5ghPQmDerGORgHns24B6SHPEOZ2FdIcR8KQe8NhXiMJIPbGTtTH24iv-r3KCWigTP3aRIEwFhBDeV0sI04ly-SXB4rG48eaLBj2AuLEhWd8JOPxbo33aM9eSucVquxE9e7PHck-Y0e0kxWfIKRF-T2IJxe1QE-Y/w300-h400/BlarneyCatNip.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div></div><p><br /></p><p>After Blarney, our group checked in to the next hotel on our itinerary, the <a href="https://www.therosehotel.com/" target="_blank">Rose Hotel in Tralee</a>. We had about an hour to freshen up (or for a "wash up and brush up," as tour leader Richard says) before loading into the coach to go to dinner at a different hotel in Killarney. At dinner, we sat at a big table with a new group of people from our tour: three retired British teachers who were friends for many years plus one of their husbands, and two sweet elderly British widowed men who travel together each summer. Collectively this bunch of fellow tour group members were delightful dinner company with thoughtful and kind conversation about different social media platforms, movies, television shows, modern phone etiquette, and education. </p><p></p><p>After dinner our group went to a Celtic Steps Show. I acknowledge the heritage of Irish dance, as well as the skill and discipline involved. True confession time though, I do not enjoy watching traditional Irish dance or Irish step shows. To my very untrained eye, it's repetitive and stiff and monotonous. The ladies' dance outfits especially look scratchy and constrictive. If you love traditional Irish dance and traditional Irish music, please continue to enjoy it. </p><p>By the way, I turned off comments on this blog a few years ago. Just whisper your comments down your kitchen sink drain if you need to get any strong opinions out of your system. If you have any scammy business links you wanted to post in the comments, take those over to Instagram. Thanks!</p><p>I slept beautifully at the very comfortable <a href="https://www.therosehotel.com/" target="_blank">Rose Hotel in Tralee</a>. Would recommend. We stayed two nights there. I admittedly didn't love packing up and moving hotels so often on this trip, but I acknowledge the need to be in close proximity to each day's attractions versus spending hours in the coach each day. </p><p>Come back to this blog in about a week for more Irish travelogue adventures. Nobody is paying me for these posts, so I'm not committing to a schedule. I have dishes to wash, laundry to handle, walls to paint, and cats who need about an hour of brushing and playing each day. Responsibilities! Plus my (totally imaginary) housekeeper went missing during the worst of pandemic stay at home times. </p>Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-12645570371228878902022-07-20T16:32:00.001-06:002022-07-20T16:32:39.429-06:00Cork City & Jameson Distillery<p>As previously mentioned, Chad and I finally arrived in Ireland for a nine day tour in June of 2022. The first evening we met our fellow tour group members, we were somewhat gleefully informed that we were the only two members of the tour group who weren't retired. The elder Brits eyeballed us with some suspicion at first. The few elder Americans who were also on the tour didn't find us until the next morning.</p><p>I'm not going to lie, although Chad and I were on our very best behavior, dinner the first evening was rough. We were seated at a table with four British people who were each about thirty years our senior. We exchanged pleasantries of names, hometowns, and what brought each of us on this trip. Then the Brits started talking British politics, somewhat heatedly. Oh no! This is not we-just-met conversation! Regardless of age or nationality, if you choose to start a sentence with the preamble, "I'm not racist, but...", you are likely about to announce your prejudices. Oh no! Chad and I just met these people, and had another eight days with them, so we reacted to their opinions with chilly silence. Plus, they were each interrupting themselves to make requests from the one and only server for our group of twenty-four diners, so our disapproving silence likely went completely unnoticed.</p><p>Near the end of dinner service, our tour leader introduced himself and gave a quick verbal orientation of our tour itinerary for the group. As soon as politely possible, Chad and I excused ourselves from dinner. We took our jet lagged selves back to the seen-better-days hotel room for much needed showers and sleep. </p><p>Bright and early the next morning, we strategically secured a table for two (only two!) at breakfast. After breakfast as we lined up to board the tour bus, we met more of our tour group members. Thankfully these other group members did NOT immediately express their strong political beliefs, instead opting to ask how we slept the night before, and if we were experiencing jet lag. Our bus dropped us all at the Dublin train station where we caught the 9:00 AM train to Cork. On the train, Chad and I sat with our tour leader, Richard. He is a delightful man from Yorkshire with a dry wit. We chatted about pre-pandemic travels, pets, and hobbies. Richard overheard me refer to Chad's rain boots as his Frankenstein boots (the boots are green and black and boxy.) He told us about <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-york-north-yorkshire-50201930" target="_blank">Whitby Goth Weekend</a> in North Yorkshire, which he finds very interesting and amusing.</p><p>When our group arrived at the train station in Cork, we met even more members of our tour group. (There were twenty-four people total including our tour leader.) We chatted about weather, tea preferences, and other polite topics as we waited for our bus to Cork City center. Tour leader, Richard, gave us a bit of history information about Cork, handed out maps, and told us what time we should meet the bus again. We were thankfully on our own to explore Cork for a few hours and feed ourselves lunch. Chad and I made a beeline for the <a href="https://www.corkcity.ie/en/english-market/english-market-home/" target="_blank">English Market</a>, which is an indoor market hall comprised of many different food and beverage stalls. We found really good veggie sandwiches at <a href="https://www.corkcity.ie/en/english-market/market-traders/cafes-restaurants/the-sandwich-stall/" target="_blank">The Sandwich Stall</a>. We also bought some fruit and baked goods. </p><p>After lunch we wandered around Cork, pausing to gawp at churches, cathedrals, a big statue, and ducking into cute shops. We also went to Costa (a coffee and tea shop) for some tea and to find a restroom. (There are so seldom enough public restrooms in tourist areas.) After waiting a few minutes for our turn in line for the restroom, Chad let me go first. This may seem to be very nice of him, but it was more like I was the advance scout going to check out the situation. There was no toilet seat. I hovered above the cold porcelain rim of the toilet, which was surely crawling with a mind-boggling collection of germs, bacteria, and grime. Upon exiting, I warned Chad, but he's a man who can easily urinate while standing, so the lack of toilet seat wasn't as big of a deal for him. There was a sign in the restroom from Costa corporate asking patrons to inform the manager if the restroom wasn't clean and comfortable. I did NOT bother the manager of the busy Costa about the missing toilet seat. But Chad and I joked about the sign, and the lack of toilet seat, and the manager's possible response if we had chosen to stand in line to inform them. "Really? I am shocked! Shocked! Please accept my sincere apologies. I'll have someone leave this busy beverage service establishment to procure a new toilet seat and make repairs post-haste!" Like they don't have enough to deal with at the moment with staffing shortages, cranky customers, and supply chain woes. </p><p><br /></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/AVvXsEirFdi6kyw7qD1yssSdy3fTiob3RRNYXaVkR74Ig6220J8VlOFDFl521PaQ2jhjCzMFxQWYWGbPgedv7RXIPmwRNv7ADR-jxKLrSAt5A43jbi_E4fs9036CCRGb5l5zxPesYuOWGsklKEj1uz1tUQtFrUCfsqnMT1tcaWiA6G8g7btzX3dkY2I/s4032/IMG_0840.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirFdi6kyw7qD1yssSdy3fTiob3RRNYXaVkR74Ig6220J8VlOFDFl521PaQ2jhjCzMFxQWYWGbPgedv7RXIPmwRNv7ADR-jxKLrSAt5A43jbi_E4fs9036CCRGb5l5zxPesYuOWGsklKEj1uz1tUQtFrUCfsqnMT1tcaWiA6G8g7btzX3dkY2I/w300-h400/IMG_0840.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">National Monument in Cork City honors Irish patriots</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>After our free time in Cork, the tour bus transported our group to a guided tour at <a href="https://www.jamesonwhiskey.com/en-us/visit-our-distilleries/midleton-distillery-cork/" target="_blank">Jameson Distillery</a>. I was surprised at how massive the buildings and grounds are at the distillery. Our tour guide was a quick witted, fast talking, young man, barely of drinking age. He told us all about the history of making whiskey in Ireland, the science of whiskey fermentation, and the history of the people of Jameson Distillery. The rooms we visited on our tour were dark and cool. Despite the interesting material, I felt myself starting to doze off while standing upright, because my jet lag and lack of sleep on our trip thus far left me so drowsy. I almost skipped the whiskey tasting, thinking it would complicate my jet lag, but I'm glad I decided to partake. I rarely drink alcohol these days, but that Jameson Irish whiskey really was smooth and delicious.</p><p><br /></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/AVvXsEjbOGd7fZLIGqhWSCsuuWmat7Fvqelf0MkCNV_G7Zw8w23O_SAr3rx1rkqiOqRj_RG3-e2TQ3BDXfAd4b5blEdK1n-bBoayNHgOi1HUNz18crOfhny0PohPufCqmKro0RVc2fSkYUcjo6UsQKozQ4vmjdtACuPwflxAOy5Fh81kFZ8N0lKP9g4/s4032/IMG_1072.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbOGd7fZLIGqhWSCsuuWmat7Fvqelf0MkCNV_G7Zw8w23O_SAr3rx1rkqiOqRj_RG3-e2TQ3BDXfAd4b5blEdK1n-bBoayNHgOi1HUNz18crOfhny0PohPufCqmKro0RVc2fSkYUcjo6UsQKozQ4vmjdtACuPwflxAOy5Fh81kFZ8N0lKP9g4/w300-h400/IMG_1072.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jameson Barrel House</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><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/AVvXsEiQswFOd_YBdk9H4ggvk5dJx3Hx4f7itzvZ6Jm2qLuBD78mwCEFEDhvNNjLH5VTp_QX7H6XMNeUMv0J6JyrJ6Q9p_uYz33HsYywThU5mwP52OkRRkIyQ1L_ChvuCIQrAmq8hVqq9_NUP2ORoRbcRBj-9VlsLZsSPXZ3AqyHS8SdWOoVJfvqiYQ/s4032/IMG_1074.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQswFOd_YBdk9H4ggvk5dJx3Hx4f7itzvZ6Jm2qLuBD78mwCEFEDhvNNjLH5VTp_QX7H6XMNeUMv0J6JyrJ6Q9p_uYz33HsYywThU5mwP52OkRRkIyQ1L_ChvuCIQrAmq8hVqq9_NUP2ORoRbcRBj-9VlsLZsSPXZ3AqyHS8SdWOoVJfvqiYQ/w300-h400/IMG_1074.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jameson Cask Room: perfect for a nap</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEh9dQQEgED9dfreMAC5yAcr8Fl2zO4wfvwqUDwDx9KtTQKbZgRyZ_MZZQRHLaRb8843AodcraQVvY12mqG88Nb6qN2bjn_9WbdMYEQLpsXooebYumSsaj2yXLGZ99V541zM0jdoeBg8hZimXPmoryj182jIgl3vFZ44aa4Ez596aWHIO4W-03Q/s4032/IMG_1075.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9dQQEgED9dfreMAC5yAcr8Fl2zO4wfvwqUDwDx9KtTQKbZgRyZ_MZZQRHLaRb8843AodcraQVvY12mqG88Nb6qN2bjn_9WbdMYEQLpsXooebYumSsaj2yXLGZ99V541zM0jdoeBg8hZimXPmoryj182jIgl3vFZ44aa4Ez596aWHIO4W-03Q/w300-h400/IMG_1075.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jameson and ginger ale cocktails, refreshing</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEj9ZrfoERPMkh_aISJ5gLQlT-IBfyl4ixCp1-dobzkaC6Jeqz-XlzWPlRWm6tSU6vhrdxaSKD-QUm6Frihrv3oR3FDYRB5Q2K7M73AqSuQt42x2mWkafIKf-Q9SkwaFzzAJmtaI5wnYpNS3wcoK547vP0QGT5P3hhR83i7fROU86ldwq2T0VVg/s4032/IMG_1080.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ZrfoERPMkh_aISJ5gLQlT-IBfyl4ixCp1-dobzkaC6Jeqz-XlzWPlRWm6tSU6vhrdxaSKD-QUm6Frihrv3oR3FDYRB5Q2K7M73AqSuQt42x2mWkafIKf-Q9SkwaFzzAJmtaI5wnYpNS3wcoK547vP0QGT5P3hhR83i7fROU86ldwq2T0VVg/w300-h400/IMG_1080.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My adorable travel companion at Jameson Distillery</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>After Jameson, our group checked in at the next hotel. <a href="https://www.midletonpark.com/" target="_blank">Midleton Park Hotel</a> is clean, modern and lovely. As our tour guide, Richard, likes to say we had "time for a wash up and a brush up" before meeting our group again for dinner. Chad and I sat with a different older British couple on that night. They told us all about their children and grandchildren, not asking anything about Chad or me. Fine, good, that's nice, oh what cute photos of your grandkids, etc...</p><p>Quick sidebar about the hotel dinners: every single dinner, Chad (a pescatarian) had a fish filet atop a mound of mashed potatoes. Every single dinner I (a strict vegetarian) had a veggie curry, which is apparently the unofficial vegetarian dish of Ireland. This happened at many different hotel dining rooms. They share just the one recipe book industry wide, I guess. There were no green salads on offer. *sigh* I love green salads, and need to eat approximately five to seven green salads a week. The veggies typically on offer in Ireland are potatoes (of course), carrots, radishes and swede / rutabaga. Creativity and variety occurred only when it came to desserts each night: bakewell tarts, deconstructed red velvet cake, chocolate Guinness cake, and even an exotic (by Irish standards) Key lime tartlet.</p><p>Quick sidebar about the different plugs and voltage in Ireland compared to the U.S.A.: of course Chad and I brought outlet adaptors for our electronics, but I did not bring a voltage converter for my curling iron. I just hoped my curling iron would work in Ireland, which is not an effective or diligent way to prepare for a trip abroad. My curling iron did kind of work in Ireland, but I had to set it to the absolute lowest heat setting, and even then, the curling iron seemed too hot. I think I fried the wiring in my curling iron by not having a voltage converter. It bravely lasted for the duration of the trip, but I had to lay it to rest (or risk seriously burning my hair) shortly after returning home. Sorry, curling iron, you deserved better from me.</p><p><br /></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/AVvXsEh5juQmsqc_D8CGyL_wcphu3jdKt0FF6WRKARcqpG33tgMtjIxGlBzjQWvEL8Z1TwSXrwbjDk3PkFRAuadFjfOY83COzSRRIKH2DaWXYtxWzwq-lWJ6c08rz-2_lXJM4lAOBDKRRtgxSGf0v6jpBZJU-kx0YXuVwG3hqnWO6bb-zlqOYgWtUVE/s1034/Screen%20Shot%202022-07-20%20at%204.12.31%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1034" data-original-width="888" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5juQmsqc_D8CGyL_wcphu3jdKt0FF6WRKARcqpG33tgMtjIxGlBzjQWvEL8Z1TwSXrwbjDk3PkFRAuadFjfOY83COzSRRIKH2DaWXYtxWzwq-lWJ6c08rz-2_lXJM4lAOBDKRRtgxSGf0v6jpBZJU-kx0YXuVwG3hqnWO6bb-zlqOYgWtUVE/w344-h400/Screen%20Shot%202022-07-20%20at%204.12.31%20PM.png" width="344" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alas, poor curling iron, I mourn your death.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Tune in later (not committing myself to a schedule) for more Irish tour shenanigans. </p>Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-29510124400097797882022-07-12T16:29:00.001-06:002022-07-12T22:40:23.243-06:00Third Schedule Lucky Irish Charm<p>Travel around Ireland has long been on my travel bingo card. In December of 2019, after much research and budgeting, I booked a tour called <a href="https://www.greatrail.com/tours/emerald-isle/" target="_blank">Enchanting Emerald Isle</a>. I bought round trip plane tickets for Dublin Ireland. Everything successfully planned, Chad and I looked forward to our nine day trip all around Republic of Ireland in June of 2020. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!</p><p>In late April of 2020, I got a voicemail from a man with a lovely British accent informing me that my Enchanting Emerald Isle tour needed to be rescheduled due to the global pandemic. I also got a real loosey goosey email from Delta letting me know that the flight to Dublin was canceled, and that I had a year to use the credits for that flight. So I phoned the man with the lovely British accent, and we postponed the reservation for the Enchanting Emerald Isle tour from June of 2020 to June of 2021, when the world would surely be up and running again. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!</p><p>In late April of 2021, I called and emailed the man with the lovely British accent, wondering if his company still existed, and if we should reschedule Enchanting Emerald Isle tour for June of 2022? After a few suspenseful days, he got back to me. Yes, the company still existed. Yes, we have to push the reservation for Enchanting Emerald Isle tour back again. Sometime during 2021, I received another loosey goosey email from Delta that my travel credits for that canceled flight to Dublin extended through December 31, 2022, because laws. Hoping for the best in 2022, but trying to remain flexible, I shrugged and crossed my fingers. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! </p><p>Finally! It happened! In June of 2022, Chad and I went on the Enchanting Emerald Isle tour all over Republic of Ireland. It was everything I dared to hope it would be. There were also several hiccups, because COVID-19 isn't done reinventing itself yet, and the airlines are woefully understaffed.</p><p>Buckle up, buttercup! It's travelogue time! (Sorry if that sounded aggressive. I mean for it to sound familiar and playful with just a little tinge of foreshadowing that not everything goes as planned, like ever, but especially the past few years.)</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/AVvXsEgihHqTZqxrG92KD_x0TV62BMsml_DC_ZW57290geaZjCueulk6NPyAzgb6J_gszpFyM8l-pgId6HersC2J2Z7jsISPJ9mm2InUVJV4_K4uMdlTj5Zf2XYbC4A6G9k1w13_S4M7lUC74CGupzGo3qZo6rCkATUk4E_1AN6oniw-QZsV5ha83gM/s4032/CliffsMoher.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgihHqTZqxrG92KD_x0TV62BMsml_DC_ZW57290geaZjCueulk6NPyAzgb6J_gszpFyM8l-pgId6HersC2J2Z7jsISPJ9mm2InUVJV4_K4uMdlTj5Zf2XYbC4A6G9k1w13_S4M7lUC74CGupzGo3qZo6rCkATUk4E_1AN6oniw-QZsV5ha83gM/w300-h400/CliffsMoher.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cliffs of Moher: a preview</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><p>Leading up to our departure date, I triple-checked our passport expirations, our vaccination cards, our reservation with the pet-sitters, and our flight arrangements. I did all the anxious things I do before a trip out of the country, such as sending a detailed travel itinerary to my best friend, my nicest neighbor friend, and Chad's mom. I made sure that the pet-sitters knew who should look after our cats in case of our untimely demise. (Hi, my name is Jennifer. I have anxiety. I choose to sublimate my catastrophizing with planning for disasters and communication of those plans.) I made sure that Chad and I packed extra socks and extra underwear. I told Chad we had to get to the airport four hours before our flight. He knew I was anxious, and did not argue. </p><p>On our travel day, we made it to the airport very early. We checked in for our flight with ease. We made it through airport security in under thirty minutes. Everything was going smoothly. Hahahahahahaha! Then I got a text from Delta informing me that our flight from Austin to Atlanta was delayed by fifty minutes. What that text did not say was that delay meant we would miss our flight from Atlanta to Dublin, so good luck with that. I noticed that Delta had another flight from Austin to Atlanta set to begin boarding soon. As calmly and kindly as I could, I approached the gate for that earlier flight. I asked the gate agent if she could help me switch to that flight, or if I needed to go to a different service desk. I explained my flight delay situation. The gate agent calmly and politely explained that the earlier flight to Atlanta was very full, and very unlikely to accommodate us. I said I understood. I said we could rebook our connecting flight to Dublin once we got to Atlanta if it came down to that. The gate agent took our names, and added us to the standby list. Did you catch the running themes here? Calmly. Kindly. Politely. </p><p>Ten minutes later, the gate agent paged our names. She said we could squeeze onto the earlier flight, and warned us that the seats were not good: middle seats across the aisle from each other on the back rows by the bathroom; not the Delta Comfort Plus we paid for on the later flight. "I understand. Thank you so much. That's fine as long as we make our connection," I said. Then that superstar gate agent went above and beyond. She asked for our luggage claim stickers. She went out in the 105 degree Fahrenheit heat, on that even hotter tarmac, and physically made sure that our bags got on the same flight as we did. Thank you, Pamela from Delta! I submitted a rave review for Pamela on the Delta website. I hope Delta gives her a raise. </p><p>We made it to Atlanta. We made our connecting flight to Dublin. On that flight to Dublin we enjoyed the Delta Comfort Plus seats very much. We arrived in the Dublin airport at 10:05 the next morning, local time. So very jet lagged and bleary eyed, we made it through customs, found a taxi and made it to the first hotel where we would meet up with the other members of our tour group later in the evening. Ta-da!</p><p>Chad and I knew we couldn't check-in to our hotel until 3:00 PM local time, so we stashed our bags with the front desk and got a taxi to nearby <a href="https://www.malahidecastleandgardens.ie/" target="_blank">Malahide Castle and Gardens</a> to begin our Irish sight-seeing adventures. The taxi driver asked if we wanted to walk the nature trails around Malahide Castle, or be dropped off at the visitor center. We opted to walk part of the 4.5 kilometer Malahide Castle Demesne Sylvan Trail first. When we left home the day before, Austin temperature reached 105 degrees Fahrenheit / 40 degrees Celsius. The temperature at Malahide that day provided such sweet relief at 59 degrees Fahrenheit / 15 degrees Celsius. The path was shady, with plenty of flora lining the edges. After a bit of relaxed wandering, we found the 800 year old castle. It did not disappoint!</p><p><br /></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-oH5lkCWiMyRKjmGV2VVGEe2JqgVeiwu9s1VKsRw8-4y-IAxFdbv349rcXltlyyQr6FYECxTYhpYOEoDJbib3UjuGFsfHCZs7SYS-S1nTYglXG-tuxOYvRPorB8Ysip49zwDwV2lrd8jBiQf7qPtJd5PDcTa_jsMlw-9EPqF-ksSTTTjbewg/s4032/MalahideCastle.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-oH5lkCWiMyRKjmGV2VVGEe2JqgVeiwu9s1VKsRw8-4y-IAxFdbv349rcXltlyyQr6FYECxTYhpYOEoDJbib3UjuGFsfHCZs7SYS-S1nTYglXG-tuxOYvRPorB8Ysip49zwDwV2lrd8jBiQf7qPtJd5PDcTa_jsMlw-9EPqF-ksSTTTjbewg/w300-h400/MalahideCastle.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Malahide Castle Main Entrance<br /><br /><br /></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/AVvXsEgfvSDLd7HfBwsQuVmAujVM9BBXmKaloA5gqqRqttfpbTbtqpB2n77vTiWQ0w2Gh_upJoQCPIdOeOBV1f2oDIi43bsfsln3rO507KY1Tr_IB5V0Kl_LBbOJU8_CBqU_Znj4_RQGS9ShNUpOMU-pWO4epqP56UIgOOZ7LmhDaBWHwB-4Qr0Z-Wg/s4032/MalahideBackside.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfvSDLd7HfBwsQuVmAujVM9BBXmKaloA5gqqRqttfpbTbtqpB2n77vTiWQ0w2Gh_upJoQCPIdOeOBV1f2oDIi43bsfsln3rO507KY1Tr_IB5V0Kl_LBbOJU8_CBqU_Znj4_RQGS9ShNUpOMU-pWO4epqP56UIgOOZ7LmhDaBWHwB-4Qr0Z-Wg/w300-h400/MalahideBackside.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Malahide Castle Backside</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEiHYPVXrNSNabBzX3iQIw_qexvk-CpKWuyfgUiMRCusjakzwtpZkY7w0BNG6E-_vgDtP-u_YzN3Rm14Hg_fIPN6gB7vQJAsEQLJsgKbPvjAE_Hs_dPi6KKdqEFP-01btEEQazgyffO6UX_KyDBUvOdAiIJUXbu-go2SAXxbYDERJ1nmMADKroA/s4032/MalahideChurch.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHYPVXrNSNabBzX3iQIw_qexvk-CpKWuyfgUiMRCusjakzwtpZkY7w0BNG6E-_vgDtP-u_YzN3Rm14Hg_fIPN6gB7vQJAsEQLJsgKbPvjAE_Hs_dPi6KKdqEFP-01btEEQazgyffO6UX_KyDBUvOdAiIJUXbu-go2SAXxbYDERJ1nmMADKroA/w300-h400/MalahideChurch.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Malahide Church Ruins</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEhdpE5yt36A67WqMJbfZovzJmTPbHw2Jelz-_k1sVUAtXbjRlVsxji1Ap3qAsYVEJx9AZB1SJpIrEVy0z8AE-MyY494AhWQ4XtP06msc5u-TBHZlHfIabze28PGmDpHSkLzUuFjbtxQeiJaDAg2zq0UzJwEHodre0yeVVG_rvE96Nl9Ikbm0y4/s4032/MalahideGarden.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdpE5yt36A67WqMJbfZovzJmTPbHw2Jelz-_k1sVUAtXbjRlVsxji1Ap3qAsYVEJx9AZB1SJpIrEVy0z8AE-MyY494AhWQ4XtP06msc5u-TBHZlHfIabze28PGmDpHSkLzUuFjbtxQeiJaDAg2zq0UzJwEHodre0yeVVG_rvE96Nl9Ikbm0y4/w300-h400/MalahideGarden.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Malahide Fairy Garden Entrance / West Lawn</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/AVvXsEiCgmtJP6UorrQwze5j767jIFgsygDKDnEjlm890YMj-5eHVIpNGtPBMOIJDXrvE_WrZnvDPU-5nRzbewmAd07832d92nhI0krvwJ8rv--ylZ1vfVBN4qo4tA2Oak0EdV8A23ZwBOsmo_lYBPJ7dwIbMRcRnqQfuhRLnm5tFPmSkKO1b-EDLRY/s4032/MalahidePond.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCgmtJP6UorrQwze5j767jIFgsygDKDnEjlm890YMj-5eHVIpNGtPBMOIJDXrvE_WrZnvDPU-5nRzbewmAd07832d92nhI0krvwJ8rv--ylZ1vfVBN4qo4tA2Oak0EdV8A23ZwBOsmo_lYBPJ7dwIbMRcRnqQfuhRLnm5tFPmSkKO1b-EDLRY/w300-h400/MalahidePond.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Malahide Pond in Walled Garden</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>These photos are only a small fraction of the beauty of the gardens, grounds and butterfly greenhouse habitat that we experienced at Malahide Castle. We got rained on a bit, but we weren't upset by it at all! Rain, cool temperatures, and lush greenery are big parts of why we wanted to visit Ireland!</p><p>Around 3:30 local time, we got a taxi back to our hotel so we could check-in and freshen up before meeting the other members of our tour group for dinner. The first hotel (not going to name it) was not that nice, in a worn carpet, frumpy way. I was perplexed by our small room with two twin beds, stale air and dusty ambience. This is a four star hotel in Ireland? Luckily we only had one night there, and the staff were friendly and helpful. </p><p>The majority of the other members of our group were traveling together from Holyhead, Wales. The majority of the other members of our group were British. And all of the other members of our group were retired, except for me and Chad, as our tour guide jovially announced upon meeting us the first night. Our tour guide, Richard, thanked us for bringing down the average age of the group. Nowhere in any of the booking details does it say that these tours are for retired people, but apparently retired people self-select for these tours. Oh no! Did I commit Chad and myself to nine days of rambling around Ireland with a bunch of slow, cranky septuagenarians? Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!</p><p>Spoiler alert: The retired people on our tour were (for the most part) extremely friendly, inclusive, fun, and ready to explore Ireland at a fast pace! We were all (or mostly all) great friends by the end!</p><p>Tune in later (I'm not committing myself to a schedule) for all the Ireland tour travels.</p>Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-19881238512771920672022-01-03T00:06:00.000-06:002022-01-03T00:06:08.146-06:00Manic Hobgoblin's Resolutions for 2022!<p>Manic Hobgoblin is an egomaniacal inner voice that previously lived in my head rent-free. He took off during the pandemic to a luxury bunker in an undisclosed location. As soon as he possibly could, he emerged from said bunker to resell toilet paper and face masks on the internet at a 4000% price markup. Manic Hobgoblin skipped the line for a COVID-19 vaccine, not at all sorry as he pushed past elderly individuals and immunocompromised people. He justified skipping the line for a vaccine, because he needed it to go on a <a href="https://www.mentalfloss.com/article/542684/longest-cruise-world-takes-seafarers-59-countries" target="_blank">VIP cruise lasting 245 days and traveling to 59 countries</a>. Now he's back from the fancy cruise. </p><p>Manic Hobgoblin ran out of money, and defaulted on his bunker payments. Lately he sneaks into my home (and my head) with alarming stealth. I tried to push him out, but he whisper-screamed some New Year resolutions to me. He said he won't leave until I share them with the world. Or at least with my 357 loyal readers. (You know who you are. I'm going to HEB later. Let me know if you need anything.)</p><p>Manic Hobgoblin's Resolutions for 2022 are as follows:</p><p>1. Learn some foreign languages such as Lemerig, Njerep and Ongota. Fluently.</p><p>2. Read every book in The Library of Congress.</p><p>3. Start an Etsy store that drop ships factory made stuff.</p><p>4. Become an actual social media influencer. </p><p>5. Get plastic surgery for abdominal muscle implants. </p><p>There. I did it. Hopefully Manic Hobgoblin will leave now. I'm trying to convince him to move into the <a href="https://www.museumoficecream.com/" target="_blank">Museum of Ice Cream</a> so he can generate loads of content for his various social media accounts.</p><p>I'm not making any resolutions for myself. This pandemic took it out of me. I've let go of most of my control issues. I've let go of making concrete plans. I've let go of doing full hair and makeup every day. The closest thing to a resolution this year is setting my reading challenge goal to forty books over on Goodreads. </p><p>Happy New Year! I'm hoping 2022 is better than the previous two years were. </p><p><br /></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/a/AVvXsEiMJdK22--k-rlHdAXJz69hgxq3RVAvlXumdLLf76w7quPlT16_1PIxO4YZWG5FhC3wAclpMkX6POhJqA0fQW9cMBlUQSMN2VjBOgYHhlC0tDhnHvWMx7xALG-mIrUVm-sWyZSQjWlEJJZrBpEkeADM0u0F5cTrr0-DqvDLz37ESoSOdMn2PTU=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiMJdK22--k-rlHdAXJz69hgxq3RVAvlXumdLLf76w7quPlT16_1PIxO4YZWG5FhC3wAclpMkX6POhJqA0fQW9cMBlUQSMN2VjBOgYHhlC0tDhnHvWMx7xALG-mIrUVm-sWyZSQjWlEJJZrBpEkeADM0u0F5cTrr0-DqvDLz37ESoSOdMn2PTU=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />Felt festive & cute. Might delete later.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-78475029402824244232021-12-27T16:12:00.000-06:002021-12-27T16:12:13.607-06:00Have You Met Queenie?<p>Don't you love hearing about other people's dreams? Whether their dreams are nonsensical, deeply Freudian, prophetic or just plain mundane? No? Me neither, so I'll keep it brief. Chad and I both had some intensely vivid dreams during the height of the pandemic. One of my dreams was that we had moved into a new house in a new city, and we had a beautiful long haired black cat. I told Chad about this dream, wanting to ask him what new city he thought we might have moved to in that dream. But his eyes got really wide, which made my eyes get really wide, and made me say, "Wait. What? Why do you look like you saw a ghost?" Chad said, "I also dreamed that we had a beautiful long haired black cat." Oooooooohhhh, coincidence dreams! So naturally, I started cruising the local cat rescue adoption websites to manifest our shared dreams. Plus our resident cat, L.B., communicated with much meowing that he was so lonely as the only remaining indoor cat for over a year's time. Chad and I knew that Janie wasn't long for this mortal coil, and that if we didn't act soon, L.B. would literally be beside himself as our only indoor furry roommate.</p><p>In April of 2021, Chad and I adopted a ridiculously cute, affectionate and adventurous kitten. She has medium length black fur with the tiniest white spot on the tip of her tail, and a cocoa undercoat featuring a marble tabby pattern which can only be seen in the brightest natural light. </p><p>We tried many different names for this kitten including: Hazel, Zelda, Millie, Midori, Taxi, Kenzo, and some others I can't remember, because we almost immediately rejected them. A few days after we brought this kitten home, I looked at her, and said, "You're so in charge here, like a little queen. Is your name Queenie?" She gave an imperious slow blink and a nod, then toddled off to find L.B. so she could get a good licky grooming from him. I ran the name past Chad, and although he had previously been very attached to the name Hazel, he agreed. </p><p><br /></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/a/AVvXsEj0tfbMPpizKk4YiB2hTOkgPVJS6UfN9W-GyForFnOeilPGHtdsgEfQ4EGZEObHAWvhYJfmKVut8vdZ86z6nVlZQUNIdJSWw4fHfsL0gck9K-PTTvRZ5zjSeBPBj97au4-IMbkYYLWwWWk-_rDeisa8wPSk8EM-u1mXz-8Xxp_82pI8-EM2ohU=s1770" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="1770" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0tfbMPpizKk4YiB2hTOkgPVJS6UfN9W-GyForFnOeilPGHtdsgEfQ4EGZEObHAWvhYJfmKVut8vdZ86z6nVlZQUNIdJSWw4fHfsL0gck9K-PTTvRZ5zjSeBPBj97au4-IMbkYYLWwWWk-_rDeisa8wPSk8EM-u1mXz-8Xxp_82pI8-EM2ohU=w400-h249" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aunt Queenie played by Elsa Lanchester in <i>Bell, Book, and Candle</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>I got the name Queenie from the character Aunt Queenie in the movie <i>Bell, Book, and Candle,</i> and from the character of Queenie Turrill in the British television series <i>Lark Rise to Candleford</i>. The name Queenie also derives from an affectionate British nickname for people who share the same first name as a Queen of England, such as Elizabeth, Victoria, Anne and Mary. </p><p>If you follow me on Instagram, or you are one of the exactly seven people allowed into my home during the pandemic, then you've seen Queenie. For the rest of you, see the photos now. You're welcome!</p><p><br /></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/a/AVvXsEibYnCyE_P32HmoC2JyI-0t4Z6TFm0_AJjJpFLRnfVf2Cz7-_n7LMaAvUMaFRv7ZZ0tip5JvsBNwkT48-bdjG0i5fh7DtA_Ka5hSSb8rTvsQu5tCfXEHee0pUKbvgg7PdJnAKmugby2UZjAmjw9v1XaADQwR856cGAM8NnlAYvKWlM0zZ16gkc=s1024" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEibYnCyE_P32HmoC2JyI-0t4Z6TFm0_AJjJpFLRnfVf2Cz7-_n7LMaAvUMaFRv7ZZ0tip5JvsBNwkT48-bdjG0i5fh7DtA_Ka5hSSb8rTvsQu5tCfXEHee0pUKbvgg7PdJnAKmugby2UZjAmjw9v1XaADQwR856cGAM8NnlAYvKWlM0zZ16gkc=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />Queenie's adoption profile pic</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><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/a/AVvXsEg9qR9P1PnN3Zs_5Em4KlR0RYlUrceUqPlnrJN4ezBqoN5wmbWdtHJRtZV64X6oClHyFfnMli5kY44uveRDkC9iND3n1Fa5TZKHZbxsD0YA5pB6jgJWHPVXG542wwFEUvudm8w35_y0zQTu7JGSTEM9iH__Z1gZoOwgGJqwpPVW80Hunc7Hxuw=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg9qR9P1PnN3Zs_5Em4KlR0RYlUrceUqPlnrJN4ezBqoN5wmbWdtHJRtZV64X6oClHyFfnMli5kY44uveRDkC9iND3n1Fa5TZKHZbxsD0YA5pB6jgJWHPVXG542wwFEUvudm8w35_y0zQTu7JGSTEM9iH__Z1gZoOwgGJqwpPVW80Hunc7Hxuw=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />Queenie's first day in her forever home<br /><br /><br /></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/a/AVvXsEgreQQxc7dCHdo2xUhmAlZtuVzwSIWkU_WXUbfyDlsX-LvsUB3ktDVg7nVMfFV2HwTyrNFqccloFVhsRV_cejy_aajQ1OqRIWjc6xkJ2O2AuVhf8yFUnD1sOFy40DEvIb5P__vwrt-dAeQL5zA4lxwO2PSCbKvLHhJKPzzEC4OsfBn44H87AwA=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgreQQxc7dCHdo2xUhmAlZtuVzwSIWkU_WXUbfyDlsX-LvsUB3ktDVg7nVMfFV2HwTyrNFqccloFVhsRV_cejy_aajQ1OqRIWjc6xkJ2O2AuVhf8yFUnD1sOFy40DEvIb5P__vwrt-dAeQL5zA4lxwO2PSCbKvLHhJKPzzEC4OsfBn44H87AwA=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />Peek-a-boo! Queenie sees you.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><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/a/AVvXsEi91PeH3bxzf4UCD8PPd_IOd6kHnkZgKIQOZAG_HxaYNCrbhSP2nN4pZGP8OKHaQKV30KgVzWw-g6gSAZQBKNYTQd5zpKfC2cJF95gynEPIKWybkzF05hONbVMNjWfu9xmYukJEXKrjRhiq1z9QF_7CI0Y6OGJqA16cGEPOMFPIKvM52ysSBj8=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi91PeH3bxzf4UCD8PPd_IOd6kHnkZgKIQOZAG_HxaYNCrbhSP2nN4pZGP8OKHaQKV30KgVzWw-g6gSAZQBKNYTQd5zpKfC2cJF95gynEPIKWybkzF05hONbVMNjWfu9xmYukJEXKrjRhiq1z9QF_7CI0Y6OGJqA16cGEPOMFPIKvM52ysSBj8=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />Queenie loves lounging in a sunny spot.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><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/a/AVvXsEjfm8PbigtSiAAaj2hwCr2D6WXfEKV5-RL71UnhZILjXlwMA4mvyUN5ADdDrf2lNkfl86CbqM133ILJPfZB68GIw94ApbhXK3NZkspuijCyehGo3A3-Rd55JtdzLdB7tGsIr1RM385ej20ttfo3w6jE4MuLGEvAJmuay64KVjBvDRPOIsaIuFM=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjfm8PbigtSiAAaj2hwCr2D6WXfEKV5-RL71UnhZILjXlwMA4mvyUN5ADdDrf2lNkfl86CbqM133ILJPfZB68GIw94ApbhXK3NZkspuijCyehGo3A3-Rd55JtdzLdB7tGsIr1RM385ej20ttfo3w6jE4MuLGEvAJmuay64KVjBvDRPOIsaIuFM=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />Queenie and Janie overlapped for a few months and sweetly shared heating pads.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><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/a/AVvXsEgHK2VLFqmwJqqaKe4DLa-GmD4zA1hY3p7v06BNmoUGekw6hRDRAUqdZzkVEURIKhWQoRJ311mUlPIBSi-HhzT2jPqwnwdd3MpcdlqVdaUbGRQDcjoNRycoNA0ELn24X5PV1ocLGhZL6ZjAs7jMC84kFMpvNZ9b3aosxE7-uHsPbIl-sQuLd5Y=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgHK2VLFqmwJqqaKe4DLa-GmD4zA1hY3p7v06BNmoUGekw6hRDRAUqdZzkVEURIKhWQoRJ311mUlPIBSi-HhzT2jPqwnwdd3MpcdlqVdaUbGRQDcjoNRycoNA0ELn24X5PV1ocLGhZL6ZjAs7jMC84kFMpvNZ9b3aosxE7-uHsPbIl-sQuLd5Y=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />Look deeply into Queenie's eyes. You're feeling very sleepy...</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><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/a/AVvXsEj32uOlI6v6pIRD1oB0g-ESATv7xxVoleLDNCbv0QpMu4sYFuum12Q9RafD_8K8OkMvfkHZWAfGJjyjVKRKAJznzDAfYjNzn-X9r_O2XNffS4NqqUlIzH82tdCVznQZmVY9RXGuNWFWu2Gqg3_RrMFNycSrcbxROb6QbT_5xGgaFA1e9p8DNfY=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj32uOlI6v6pIRD1oB0g-ESATv7xxVoleLDNCbv0QpMu4sYFuum12Q9RafD_8K8OkMvfkHZWAfGJjyjVKRKAJznzDAfYjNzn-X9r_O2XNffS4NqqUlIzH82tdCVznQZmVY9RXGuNWFWu2Gqg3_RrMFNycSrcbxROb6QbT_5xGgaFA1e9p8DNfY=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />Queenie's typing skills are nonexistent, but she is a hit on Zoom.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><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/a/AVvXsEhtzHwd3Hn64KgWlkzVijbkIhxpsLt35xKiLlA3Hqkhp2XHIHc-xUxBRqgom2VCf9VCEDK-4XWRAVy0mMbR4TWZeFGtmPKVZ0eOJF4C_AS73DLUTQxzl-qH4vLC0s8V7HpKMTu-ldU6Kr32Fn_csKPRH5Vjyoa8041MT12S5fg1HYJe5dWizzw=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtzHwd3Hn64KgWlkzVijbkIhxpsLt35xKiLlA3Hqkhp2XHIHc-xUxBRqgom2VCf9VCEDK-4XWRAVy0mMbR4TWZeFGtmPKVZ0eOJF4C_AS73DLUTQxzl-qH4vLC0s8V7HpKMTu-ldU6Kr32Fn_csKPRH5Vjyoa8041MT12S5fg1HYJe5dWizzw=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />Queenie blends right in with the velvet chair/throne.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><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/a/AVvXsEjcIN_qe4ZNZclkNYhGyEFIjwkM2U5ZLAEeF5shlV9ynJMRPK3iwpkMHoS08bNQufDyyNauXMpRFcM8qYnK6JueU2ulJdPUNgI823VymKZdVu99Y6nITFCxlccE2bxFmBHxg4iWpdpd7629LZhcRQ-yR8cnnT2HBJ--x4Zvm-66Ux0L9culGs4=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcIN_qe4ZNZclkNYhGyEFIjwkM2U5ZLAEeF5shlV9ynJMRPK3iwpkMHoS08bNQufDyyNauXMpRFcM8qYnK6JueU2ulJdPUNgI823VymKZdVu99Y6nITFCxlccE2bxFmBHxg4iWpdpd7629LZhcRQ-yR8cnnT2HBJ--x4Zvm-66Ux0L9culGs4=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />Queenie and L.B. love each other so much.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br />Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-21406090014908777852021-09-05T19:34:00.002-06:002021-09-05T22:22:09.961-06:00Janie: A Memorial<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXU6z6dU3QEJrkruh04KQo3KoioBRhYGgVVR4erh4zaK5xwidJHfFE5q8eWUZUJMslYg6GkGLj7tiKDFaBo2LyaewuRTnmSZNlBrOy1q2lCuQXAf4KkYkZ38QdGXfKXkjoFX9hcA/s2048/JanieSpoiled.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXU6z6dU3QEJrkruh04KQo3KoioBRhYGgVVR4erh4zaK5xwidJHfFE5q8eWUZUJMslYg6GkGLj7tiKDFaBo2LyaewuRTnmSZNlBrOy1q2lCuQXAf4KkYkZ38QdGXfKXkjoFX9hcA/s320/JanieSpoiled.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>Janie Lulabelle May Snacks Currie was an excellent dog. Known by her friends as just Janie, she had a rough start in life as a young single mama. Janie and three of her puppies were picked up as strays by benevolent animal control employees and taken to the city animal shelter. Back then, Austin was not a no-kill city as it is now. Blue Dog Rescue group plucked Janie and her puppies out of the city shelter before their time ran out. </p><p>Chad and I went to a meet and greet adoption event for Blue Dog Rescue. We had picked out three other dogs based on their cute online profiles. Two of the three were already adopted by the time we arrived, and that third sweet dog was not the right dog for us. One of the coordinators for Blue Dog Rescue steered us toward Janie. The coordinator told us about Janie's excellent manners, her gentle nature as a mama dog, and her success rate with house training. Janie's puppies had all three been adopted, but Janie remained. People love puppies, and I get that. But Chad and I wanted a calmer, house trained dog, who knew the sit command, and could walk on leash. We did not want a puppy. We took Janie for a walk around the Petco parking lot. She took care of business, as if to say, "I feel immediately comfortable enough to poop in front of you." When we dropped her back off at her crate with her foster mom, Janie sat down and flopped over to reveal her tummy for pets. Chad and I both knew in that moment that this was our dog. I feel like she picked us, just as much as we picked her.</p><p>In her younger days, Janie enjoyed walking (up to three miles a day) at a good pace. She savored chewing on Nylabones and Benebones, earning her the nickname "Landshark." Janie liked to sunbathe on the back deck for hours at a time. We would make her come inside at regular intervals to cool off, teasing her that she shouldn't bake her brains too much. Janie loved attending the prestigious day school at Camp Four Paws, and was head of her canine class for many years there. She relished a good romp at the dog park. Janie never got the knack of swimming per se, but she delighted in a nice soak in the waters of Shoal Creek or Lady Bird Lake.</p><p>Janie spent thirteen and half years with us. (She was at least fifteen years old in total.) She was an excellent nanny dog for many foster kittens and for two foster puppies. Janie was very sweet and gentle with our resident cats, and especially patient with Sonic the bully. Janie met our most recently adopted cat, Queenie (more on her later), and shared her heating pad with the new kitten. </p><p>As Janie got older, she experienced steadily escalating troubles with her back hips. Under our veterinarian's care, Janie was taking a daily NSAID pain reliever which we supplemented with CBD treats. Near the end, Janie let us know that she was increasingly in pain and discomfort. She paced around at night, and could not be consoled. She whined softly as a way to sooth herself often. Janie no longer enjoyed sunning on the deck or chewing on Benebones. Chad and I had many tearful talks about what we needed to do for her. We decided that for the final two weeks before her scheduled farewell appointment, we would double-dose her NSAID tablets and give her the maximum recommended CBD treats each day. (Double-dosing the NSAID meds is not sustainable as it can cause stomach ulcers among other problems, but we knew it would be for a very limited time.) We spent her final two weeks spoiling her rotten and doing everything we could to make her comfortable and happy. Despite our best efforts, she was still clearly uncomfortable and tired of everything. On Janie's final day, the doctor at our veterinarian's office told us all the perfect things: "You gave her such a good, long life. We should all be so fortunate. It is very selfless of you to let her go. She knows you are here with her. She's drifting off to sleep." And after a moment, the doctor listened for a heartbeat, and hearing none, she said, "Janie is at peace now." Chad and I each kissed Janie's giant, heart-shaped forehead a final time as we cried with jagged breaths and snotty noses. </p><p>For weeks after Janie's departure, we wondered if we did the right thing. (We know rationally that we did, but this is part of the process of grieving an old dog, a beloved family member we carefully chose.) Chad and I start each other crying again with a shared memory, a knowing look, or a mention of Janie's schedule. We were absolutely spoiled to have a dog as sweet and gentle and full of personality as Janie was. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_cl7SMqBwsLsBszS8mAJwVRyOo8t6OPsl0weZJX81kbOc1Hy5Wa592sWRygUIv9rWQdnIXLuJiWBES-nwnWNfdQiVaUKaNIWUzJUZLvBrPIdU56IoOrqw22zmAgRvZ3N4-YkySw/s2048/IMG_0434.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_cl7SMqBwsLsBszS8mAJwVRyOo8t6OPsl0weZJX81kbOc1Hy5Wa592sWRygUIv9rWQdnIXLuJiWBES-nwnWNfdQiVaUKaNIWUzJUZLvBrPIdU56IoOrqw22zmAgRvZ3N4-YkySw/s320/IMG_0434.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiOskYwyZQ0GtyePNd1lPFWA_-zf9nN4vbdkXZqrwVDKcU0NORkwdRRAlQE6N7TG_gCxM5Y-7ssHBvb5V2ejpuwUNTGprgJGX77nM51462RCIWTStWSLoJFIa1gTY4purk_WF99Q/s2048/IMG_3089.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiOskYwyZQ0GtyePNd1lPFWA_-zf9nN4vbdkXZqrwVDKcU0NORkwdRRAlQE6N7TG_gCxM5Y-7ssHBvb5V2ejpuwUNTGprgJGX77nM51462RCIWTStWSLoJFIa1gTY4purk_WF99Q/s320/IMG_3089.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzjCHFpSVOy81N-AMMMrjmWc0gorZrJRnzjVTgX5vc-d4YmZ-AyzJmjVR1v9DPjJkidBIi1TdCzlfCWv7ABg3TX0cYdGz2VnNAHlapx6-QF4TEYRB5w2hCOf5oLCnfzMtpLQnwww/s2048/IMG_6118.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzjCHFpSVOy81N-AMMMrjmWc0gorZrJRnzjVTgX5vc-d4YmZ-AyzJmjVR1v9DPjJkidBIi1TdCzlfCWv7ABg3TX0cYdGz2VnNAHlapx6-QF4TEYRB5w2hCOf5oLCnfzMtpLQnwww/s320/IMG_6118.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipheydEgW6Ji1a7fT0qq-WvGp9dXNGXIiMYYWFLasIaA7iaSK8BmqWq23XZK69BqV3Tn4uPechF-G7RTdpvEN9TcLQs2iJ-Uoqyy5BoL_ExOaXih_B0n-pjY0CEbbRltfml5VJsg/s2048/IMG_3234.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1389" data-original-width="2048" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipheydEgW6Ji1a7fT0qq-WvGp9dXNGXIiMYYWFLasIaA7iaSK8BmqWq23XZK69BqV3Tn4uPechF-G7RTdpvEN9TcLQs2iJ-Uoqyy5BoL_ExOaXih_B0n-pjY0CEbbRltfml5VJsg/s320/IMG_3234.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn9K5Qsa-Pwhx6RVI_8k7DSOfAVW1KYjHrib7rd0U9wvtsOcXuTeAsG01aCAzOIhGiFreB1VUS8IaTZk-jf9jgFXjw9R0Zt_HuAVAVdo_jDU8Icwtn_ZI6BmSFTGfUyLqzemmBUA/s2048/IMG_8554.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn9K5Qsa-Pwhx6RVI_8k7DSOfAVW1KYjHrib7rd0U9wvtsOcXuTeAsG01aCAzOIhGiFreB1VUS8IaTZk-jf9jgFXjw9R0Zt_HuAVAVdo_jDU8Icwtn_ZI6BmSFTGfUyLqzemmBUA/w300-h400/IMG_8554.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-30009020826436117882020-04-21T16:00:00.000-06:002020-04-21T16:00:00.114-06:00Dear (Totally Imaginary) HousekeeperThank you for continuing to work for us during this weird time in history. You are like a chosen family member.<br />
<br />
Thank you for staying on top of the laundry, making sure we've ordered all the food for the pets and the squirrels, and for planning our meals in response to ingredient shortages at the stores. (Seriously, why is there no slow-cook brown rice to be had?) But... last week when our curbside grocery order made it home, I noticed that literally one-third of the items were missing. We were charged for those items. We were counting on those items for meals. When you contacted the store to try and rectify the situation, I understand that the prerecorded message directed you to the website, and then hung up on you. I'm sorry that happened to you. I know how frustrating that must have been. But... I'm still awaiting a refund from the store after you emailed them about the situation. Please follow up with the store again.<br />
<br />
Thank you for being resourceful, and planning curbside meal pickups from our favorite local restaurants last week due to our grocery shortage. But... we were looking forward to healthy homemade meals.<br />
<br />
I understand that you panicked after last week's grocery pickup snafu. Frankly I also felt my anxiety rising. While I appreciate that you took the initiative to set new grocery pickups for this week, you went a bit overboard. So much cheese! Which luckily keeps for a while. But... what am I supposed to do with five pints of organic grape tomatoes. And why can't you find any slow-cook brown rice still? How long does it take to grow more rice? I'm holding you personally responsible for the rice shortage, (Totally Imaginary) Housekeeper.<br />
<br />
Also, thanks for ordering washable face masks for the household. But... the large size you bought for Chad does not fit over his big face. What do you mean there is no extra-large size? Can you get out the sewing machine and fix this?<br />
<br />
Also, the dog needs you to do more enrichment activities with her. She seems to enjoy the training activities. Please stop just giving her a Kong treat every time she whines. That only buys us four or five minutes. You have to do the training where you make her sit and stay, then come to you in the far corners of the backyard. That tires her out more.<br />
<br />
Also, L.B. misses his former feline companion. I need for you to play chase the laser pointer dot with him more frequently now. He also wants more brushing. But... please do be a dear, and swiffer all the loose fur after his brushing sessions. I'm tired of seeing cat-fur-tumbleweeds rolling around the hardwood floors.<br />
<br />
Also, I noticed you haven't been ironing the pillow cases for the bed. We really liked that. Can you please do that again?<br />
<br />
Also, I know I said I would repaint all the exterior doors during this stay-home time, but I don't feel like doing it now. Please, (Totally Imaginary) Housekeeper, can you paint the doors? We have the paint and the supplies. Just make sure you clean up after yourself.<br />
<br />
Also, can you please go to the plant nursery and buy tomato plants, tomato cages, basil, and bougainvillea plants? Now that it's warming up, I need you to spruce up the raised planters and hanging basket planters. Just wear a face mask. I'm sure you'll be fine.<br />
<br />
One more tiny thing: my car battery warning light is indicating that I need a new car battery soon. Can you please deal with that?<br />
<br />
Thanks so much, (Totally Imaginary) Housekeeper. You're the best. I don't know how I'd cope right now without you.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="giphy-embed" frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://giphy.com/embed/mbOj47JFRQeek" width="480"></iframe><a href="https://giphy.com/gifs/cinderella-mbOj47JFRQeek">via GIPHY</a><br />
<br />Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-15578664896117953092020-04-07T17:06:00.002-06:002020-04-24T13:30:20.297-06:00Sonic: A Memorial<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sonic came to live with us in October of 2006 when he was approximately six months old. He was originally found in a feral cat colony in the Travis Heights neighborhood. Sonic was named for his loud, yodel-like meows by the lady who found him. Sonic was always very chatty, responding vocally to any prompts. Sonic adored and annoyed his two older feline roommates in equal measure. He loved people, especially people who fed him. Sonic loved a heating pad. Perhaps owing to his early days in the feral cat colony, Sonic also enjoyed the outdoors. Typically, when Sonic went outside he stayed in our backyard, in or on top of his heated, weather-proof cat shelter on the back deck.<br />
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Sonic was mostly a sweet cat who loved a warm lap and getting brushed, but he had his dark side. Sonic struggled with anxiety which manifested in resource guarding and inappropriate urinating all over our home. The amount of Sonic's pee I cleaned up over the years is both heart-breaking and infuriating. Heart-breaking that he suffered with his anxiety. Infuriating, because cat pee is a booger to clean. The amount of Simple Solution and Nature's Miracle we went through with Sonic was astounding.<br />
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Sonic did not like our dog, who joined our home in February 2008. Sonic charged at our dog, and bopped her on the nose aggressively a few times a week. Our dog is a tolerant sweetheart, and never once defended herself. I tried to explain to Sonic that he weighed thirteen pounds and the the sweet, tolerant dog weighed fifty-plus pounds. I told Sonic that one day he would pick a fight above his weight class, and that it would not end in his favor. (This, here, is called foreshadowing.)<br />
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Sonic loved his new little brother, L.B., when he arrived on the scene in December of 2015. The two boys were sweet wrestling buddies, always up for a game of chase. They both indulged in catnip, laser pointer shows and ribbon chasing together.<br />
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Late on the night of Friday, March 13, I heard (but thankfully did not see) a cat's war cry out in the front of our home. The yowl was loud, and ended abruptly. L.B. was sitting with me at the time, and heard the ruckus also. It ended so quickly that L.B. and I thought nothing of it, returning to our reading. The next morning Chad asked if I had let Sonic inside last night, because Sonic wasn't waiting at the backdoor to come inside that morning as he usually was. I said no. I did a thorough sweep of all of Sonic's favorite cozy hiding spots inside the house. No Sonic. I walked the front yard, the side yard and back yard, calling for Sonic. He typically came running when I called him. Still no Sonic.<br />
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At this point, I think my brain was protecting me from the memory of what I'd heard the night before. Especially on top of the whole quickly evolving COVID-19 situation, I was processing too much information.<br />
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Chad and I have seen coyotes roaming our neighborhood late at night on several occasions. They come up from the creek bed, looking for food when most people are sleeping. But Sonic had disappeared in the past for up to three days, and returned home unscathed. I was trying to decipher if Sonic was out on an adventure, or if Sonic had been a coyote's dinner. I checked the local lost and found pet pages online. Still no Sonic. I checked his microchip registration, which has current contact information. No reports of a microchip scan for Sonic.<br />
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On Sunday afternoon, March 15, I looked at Chad and said, "It feels different this time. I don't think he's coming home." Then I teared up just the tiniest bit as I relayed the scuffle that I heard out in front of the house the night Sonic disappeared.<br />
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Three weeks later, still no Sonic. We're 95% certain that Sonic charged at a coyote, thinking he would win that fight, and became the coyote's meal. The circle of life isn't always pretty.<br />
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Sonic lived a good life of almost fourteen years. He was predeceased by two of our beloved O.G. cats. He is survived by Janie, the dog he bullied, and by L.B., his beloved feline companion. Sonic's favorite vet tech, Jan, once said, "He's a cool cat, so chill, just hanging out with us while we do his bloodwork and urinalysis." While in some ways we miss Sonic, in other ways it is a relief that he is no longer peeing all over our home and bullying our sweet, elderly dog.<br />
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Maya Angelou said it well. "People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." Sonic made us feel many things, some lovely, some not so lovely.<br />
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<br />Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-59054904755181104292020-04-05T18:48:00.000-06:002020-04-05T23:03:56.744-06:00Manic Hobgoblin Retreated to BunkerI haven't heard much from my inner Manic Hobgoblin of late. He retreated to his luxury bunker in an undisclosed location somewhere in the Southwestern United States of America. Luckily he left me with one tub of sanitizing wipes and about ten rolls of toilet paper. I also found a box of face masks in my painting supplies that he forgot to abscond with when he left at sunrise a few weeks ago. (These face masks are not the N95 kind that should absolutely be donated to health care workers, just the little pleated ear loop kind.)<br />
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In absence of Manic Hobgoblin, and under stay home orders from my city, I've been balancing chores with fun homebody activities. Lots of laundry, washing dishes, cleaning out clutter, vacuuming, preparing tax documents, etc, interspersed with lots of reading fiction, playing card games/board games, moving around the giant Easter eggs on my front lawn each day to amuse myself and passers-by, cuddling the pets, watching Netflix, Hulu and YouTube. All this fills my days just fine. I don't need Manic Hobgoblin spinning around my house right now telling me to learn a fifth language or to try every exercise video from the internet. I wish Manic Hobgoblin well in his bunker. Maybe he can stay there permanently.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="giphy-embed" frameborder="0" height="393" src="https://giphy.com/embed/G5h04AkAvAHcs" width="480"></iframe><a href="https://giphy.com/gifs/cat-nope-bye-G5h04AkAvAHcs">via GIPHY</a><br />
<br />Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-6799669176503483562020-02-22T14:48:00.000-06:002020-02-29T00:34:08.756-06:00Manic Hobgoblin Hates That ClassGoing back to school during middle age is difficult for me. I always feel like I should be studying, watching a how-to video, doing homework, or practicing recipes for my pastry chef classes. I made all A grades last semester. I am on track to make an A in two of my three classes this semester. But the third class is very challenging for me. I hate it. It makes me want to quit the program. If I don't pass this class, I will not be allowed to continue the pastry chef program. The name of this vexing course is "Basic Food Preparation", and it is anything but basic. I'm learning to flute mushrooms, tourne potatoes, make hollandaise sauce, and a bunch of other overly complicated, fussy stuff I'll never do again as a professional baker.<br />
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This past week, the chef-instructor for this class scolded the class members, saying we should memorize our recipes and methods for preparing the assignments before class. (Forgetting that many of us have never worked in a professional kitchen. Ignoring that most of us have never made the Mother Sauces from scratch.) Chef barked that it shouldn't take 30 minutes to make a Hollandaise sauce, Espagnole Sauce and French Classic Tomato Sauce. (Um, I beg to differ. The instructions for the Espagnole Sauce clearly state to simmer it for one to two hours.) Chef also said that his job is not to teach us to cook, but to teach us to be professional chefs. (Clearly discounting that the baking and hospitality students must take this Basic Food Preparation class, and that baking and hospitality students do not want to be culinary chefs, thanks all the same.)<br />
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Chef has failed to instruct our class about mis en place, or getting all of our ingredients prepared and organized before we begin. He just barks at us to go faster, and to come wash the dishes that are stacking up at an alarming rate. Then Chef yells at us that we didn't finish all three sauces and our fancy cut board presentation. Is this what hazing feels like? I am not a fan. Class consistently gets out late. We are sent home to do our lab reports, rather than being able to fill them out while Chef is present to answer questions.<br />
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Also, Chef hates when his students are vegetarians (even for religious reasons), and when they have food allergies (going so far as to drop a student from the program who has an anaphylactic allergy to fish). I'm a vegetarian with a peanut allergy. *sigh* So I gagged my way through rendering pork fat for the tomato sauce and deglazing beef scraps for the Espagnole sauce. (I was told by the culinary school program advisor that the Basic Food Preparation class didn't deal with any proteins. Um... beef and pork are proteins!) I will never again prepare Mother Sauces as a baker, I hope.<br />
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My inner Manic Hobgoblin wants to quit. This class is difficult. This class is not fun. Chef is unreasonable in his expectations, and sloppy with instructions. Manic Hobgoblin says it is better to quit than to fail. Manic Hobgoblin says that something I want to do as a future profession should not hinge upon this difficult class that is so very loosely related to my future profession.<br />
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Manic Hobgoblin and I agree that Hollandaise Sauce looks and tastes like heart disease, that Espagnole Sauce smells like a sickly sweaty cow, and that pork fat has no place leaving greasy drops in Tomato Sauce. Gross.<br />
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However, I have to disagree with Manic Hobgoblin that I should just quit the program. I'm going to get through this BLEEPing prerequisite class. I probably will not make an A, thus ruining my 4.0 Grade Point Average. I will do my very best to pass this vexing class with a C or better. Being imperfect is better than quitting in this case. Riiiiiiiiight? Because I'm having doubts.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="giphy-embed" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://giphy.com/embed/AS4K5qS6GUl9IrS4n5" width="480"></iframe><a href="https://giphy.com/gifs/AS4K5qS6GUl9IrS4n5">via GIPHY</a>Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-20440136159362658882020-01-02T14:18:00.001-06:002020-01-02T14:18:25.079-06:00Manic Hobgoblin's Resolutions for 2020<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My inner Manic Hobgoblin boldly announced his New Year Resolutions for 2020:<br />
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1. Get back on Twitter and start a Twitter-feud with a major celebrity to gain more followers and engagement.<br />
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2. Start day trading with the goal of 400% R.O.I. in the first month alone.<br />
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3. Really solve Brexit this time.<br />
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4. Schedule a round-the-world-in-eighty-days exploration trip. Fly first class and stay in only the best accommodations. You deserve this. (Never mind that your dog is coming up on fourteen years of age. Never mind that your cat sitter just announced that she is moving to Denver. Never mind that you are a full time student again.)<br />
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5. Read 150 books this year. Again, never mind that you're a student with many hours of homework each week.<br />
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6. Go ahead and buy (not lease) a charming space for your bakery now. By the time the build-out, permitting and inspections are complete, you'll be finished with your pastry chef certification.<br />
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7. Run a marathon in at least five major cities this year.<br />
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8. Pay off your mortgage nine years early with the profits from your day trading.<br />
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9. Buy a vacation home. Anywhere. Regardless of how remote the location. Remodel it and outfit it with only the most high-end accoutrements.<br />
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10. Watch every show on every streaming service.<br />
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Yeah, suuuuurre. It's good that you said that, Manic Hobgoblin. *backs slowly away*</div>
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My true New Year resolutions are to read thirty three books, and to take care of myself, my husband and our pets. Last year I resolved to read thirty books. I read thirty nine books including three college textbooks cover to cover. I went back to school after many years of thinking about it and talking about it. I earned a 4.0 grade point average this past semester. </div>
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However, I did not make good on last year's resolution to watch the original Charmed television series (1998 - 2006) in its entirety. I gave up halfway through the series. Life is too short to fulfill meaningless goals made on a whim, especially when a television series gets that ridiculously bad in season four. </div>
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Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-36077403189676894692019-10-22T17:47:00.002-06:002019-10-22T17:47:54.743-06:00The Most Terrifying Haunted BarnTis the season for all things ghostly, ghastly and terrifying. Even at church. Or at a church function.<br />
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I was in the fifth grade. My family attended a large church in the Birmingham, Alabama area. My dad volunteered in the Evangelical Outreach mission in the church and also taught a young adult Sunday school class. My mom worked as a secretary for the Minister of Music at our church.<br />
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Our church was a wealthy one. The church had recently bought a multi-acre parcel of land that featured day camp grounds, a large bunk house for retreats, a big swimming pool, giant picnic pavilions and a stable without any horses. (My church was wealthy, but not wealthy enough for horses. They had some sense of decorum when it came to spending church funds.)<br />
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During the fall season our church usually held a Halloween carnival at the recreation center on the Friday before Halloween for families with young children. There was a costume contest, carnival games with cheap plastic prizes, bobbing for apples, refreshments such as mini-donuts hot from the fryer, popcorn, corndogs, candy and orange drink (it was orange colored and tasted like sugar water with a hint of acidity).<br />
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When the church bought the "camp" which was located within a thirty-minute drive of town, they started hosting the Halloween carnival at the camp, with the addition of hayrides and a haunted house in the horseless stables.<br />
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My dad had a younger friend at church named Warren. Warren and my dad met in the Evangelical Outreach program. They thought each other to be hilariously funny in their little mutual admiration society. My dad and Warren had been largely responsible for the haunted barn. They had kept the details top secret even from me, or maybe especially from me.<br />
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Here's some background information to consider about my dad. My mom was (and still is) deathly afraid of snakes. There are no beneficial snakes or harmless snakes as far as my mom is concerned. There are only "kill it now" snakes according to Mom. One day my mom was taking a nap after work. My dad and I found a tiny garter snake in our yard. Dad bribed me with candy to carry the little snake into my sleeping mother's bedroom and wake her up while dangling it over her face. I believe you can still hear the echos of her screaming in that neighborhood. Another example: My dad knew I suffered from motion sickness as a child. Yet whenever we went to the park with the tire swing, he'd push and whip the tire swing mercilessly with me in it as I screeched for him to stop. I know this led to projectile vomiting in at least two instances. My dad had a bit of a mean prankster streak under the Sunday school teacher facade.<br />
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So I'm at the Halloween carnival at the fancy church camp in the fifth grade. My mom's boss had a daughter that was my same age named Kim. Kim sported an impish face with freckles and a bucktoothed smile. She had reddish brown hair that stuck out at odd angles from her scalp. Kim never liked me for whatever reason. Kim saw me in line for the hayride and sidled up to me. She said, "I do not want to be you tonight."<br />
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I replied, "Did you ever?"<br />
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She said, "Did I ever what?"<br />
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I said, "Want to be me?"<br />
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She rolled her eyes and snorted, "No! But especially I don't want to be you tonight."<br />
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I shrugged. "Okay." I tried to think of somewhere else to be, but didn't want to lose my place in line for the hayride.<br />
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Seeing that she had me more-or-less captive, Kim smiled like a cat who swallowed a canary. She continued, "I especially don't want to be you tonight, because when you go through the haunted barn tonight, Warren and your dad are going to grab you and not let you out."<br />
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This information seemed plausible based on what I knew about my dad and Warren and their synergy. So I looked at Kim with wide eyes. She knew she had me hooked. I said, "What? Why?"<br />
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Kim spun her tale. "They are going to make this big deal out of counting everyone on the way in, and then counting everyone again on the way out. They're going to say eight people went in, but only seven people made it out alive. Warren is going to tie you up, and hide you in the back of the barn. He's not going to let you out until the end of the night." Then Kim threw her head back and let out a practiced and perfected villainous laugh.<br />
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Kim saw from my wide-eyed look of terror that she could milk this moment for even more hilarity. She delivered the final insult. "I bet you're too scared to go now."<br />
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I couldn't back down from this bully, who also happened to be the child of my mom's boss. So I stayed in line for the hayride that would deliver me to the haunted barn. Kim stayed right there with me. Once aboard the hayride, we ascended the hill to the horseless stables, a.k.a. the haunted barn. I felt like I was going up the hill on a roller coaster, soon to plummet into sheer oblivion. I kept thinking about what Kim said. I kept thinking how likely the scenario was to play out just as Kim described it. My pulse quickened with palpable fear. People climbed off of the hayride to wait in line for the haunted barn. Kim relished my growing anxiety. My turn to enter the haunted barn grew nearer and nearer. I finally turned around and said to Kim in defeat, "I'm not going in there."<br />
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Kim clapped in delight and stamped her feet devilishly. As I tried to get back on the departing hayride to leave, Kim grabbed me by the arm. She tried to drag me into the haunted barn. That kid was strong! I yelled "no, no, no, no. no" with increasing volume. Kim cackled, tightened her grip on my arm and pushed me harder. I realized I couldn't out-muscle Kim. I went limp and dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. She didn't want to topple over with me, so she let go. Finally free from my tormentor. I ran down the hill in the dark night back to the picnic pavilion where other people were oblivious to my fright.<br />
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Later that night my mother asked why I made "such a hysterical scene with all the screaming" at the haunted barn. Word travels fast at big, snooty churches. I tried to tell my mom about what Kim had said, and how I believed her. My mom wouldn't hear a word against her boss's child. My mom said that I embarrassed her and the whole family with my "ridiculous behavior".<br />
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A little later that night my dad pulled me into a half hug at his side and said with a mischievous grin, "Warren and I missed you in the haunted barn. We kept looking for you."<br />
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The most terrifying haunted barn was one that I never dared to set foot inside.<br />
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Also, if your child tells you they are being bullied or harassed, please hear them out. Kim continued to torment me until my family moved halfway across the country a year later.<br />
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Hey Kim, if you're out there:<br />
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Happy Halloween!</div>
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Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-76527082060499980482019-09-27T12:52:00.000-06:002019-09-27T12:52:18.883-06:00Pivot: I'm in Pastry Chef SchoolI've had many different jobs. I love to try new things. I love to learn. For many years, acting for stage and screen fulfilled my creative urges that weren't met by regular jobs, and/or acting was my regular job for several years. (Yes, I made money acting. The income was really good sometimes, not so good other times, overall inconsistent.)<br />
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Since I lost most of the hearing in my left ear, I don't get the same joy from acting that I once did. (I had a demeaning experience with a mumbly director this past year over my hearing impairment in one ear.) I'm also choosing to age somewhat gracefully, and not freeze my face into a rictus facsimile of youth. I'm out of the acting gigs, at least for a while.<br />
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My inner Manic Hobgoblin and my more rational inner voice teamed up last year to convince me that I need to find a new career path that incorporates my creative compulsions with a more steady stream of reliable income. After much thought, navel-gazing, planning and paperwork, I am back in school for an accredited, well-regarded pastry arts certificate at Austin Community College. I'm taking the prerequisite classes this semester:<br />
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Food Production and Planning - This is actually a math class for the professional kitchen that includes conversions from volume to weight measures, scaling recipes, figuring portion numbers, portion sizes and costing menu items. When I first started this class, the algebra made me hyperventilate with anxiety. Now I love this class. There is an elegance to the math. I see how incredibly useful this math will be.<br />
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Sanitation and Safety - With great power comes great responsibility. Serving food to people is a huge responsibility. I won't go into all the terrifying pathogens, parasites, toxins and contaminants that food can carry. It makes me both queasy and a bit scared to eat in any restaurant that receives a score below 90 on their health inspection. The information in this class is so vital, but it also kind of takes the joy out of food preparation.<br />
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Hospitality Human Resources Management - This class is all about the business end of things. It's an invaluable introduction to business, especially for people who haven't held many jobs in service industries, or who haven't had to interact with customers or employees much in their past experience. The professor for this class tries to keep us all engaged. He brings many years of professional experience in hospitality jobs to the teaching role.<br />
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So, I'm not baking pretty things in any of my classes yet. I'm working on the foundations to be able to safely bake pretty things in the correct proportions without causing interpersonal strife in the workplace. I'm spending about twelve hours a week doing homework with lots of reading, typing and use of a calculator.<br />
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Next semester, I hope to bake some pretty things. I will learn at least fourteen different ways to cook eggs and chop vegetables. I will take a chef nutrition class, which will likely involve more typing and calculating. My inner Manic Hobgoblin is itching to just frost cakes all day, but I'm trying to keep him soothed by watching pretty pastry videos on Instagram for the time being.<br />
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<a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/B2U9HHwglFj/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading" style="color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none; word-wrap: break-word;" target="_blank">Yaaasss I love this technique!!! If you’ve ever wanted to learn from the best of the best, make sure you sign up for our cake classes in October!!! We have a few spaces left !! >> https://hayleycakesandcookies.com/product-category/classes-and-events/ #hayleycakesandcookies #bestcookiesever #decoratedcookies #atx #atxcookies #atxbakery #cookies #yum #atxcakes #cake #buttercreamcakes</a></div>
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A post shared by <a href="https://www.instagram.com/thehayleycakes/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading" style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px;" target="_blank"> Hayleycakes And Cookies</a> (@thehayleycakes) on <time datetime="2019-09-12T22:13:22+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Sep 12, 2019 at 3:13pm PDT</time></div>
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<br />Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34427789.post-15911429560299108392019-07-30T13:36:00.000-06:002019-07-30T13:36:55.545-06:00No Thanks to NitrousRecently I needed a filling at the dentist for a wee little cavity. The dental assistant offered nitrous oxide, commonly known as laughing gas. I politely declined. The dental assistant assured me that I'd be able to drive myself home, but still I said, "no thanks." She looked puzzled.<br />
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I answered that I had a weird reaction to nitrous oxide as an eight year old child. The dental assistant asked if the experience made me scared of dentists. No, just wary of having nitrous oxide ever again. I kept my explanation brief and polite. I got my filling without incident and without pain.<br />
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Here's the full, dramatic tale of how my bad nitrous trip went down at the tender age of eight. Up to that point, my trips to the dentist had been fine and dandy. No cavities, and rewarded with a sugar-free lollipop for my troubles. BUT, at age eight, I had my first cavity. To hear my mother tell it, this cavity was a doozy of dental decay, almost a root canal. Mom shrieked at me most shrilly about my terrible failure to properly care for my teeth. She warned me this filling would be painful and awful. I cried and apologized to my mom. I was such a little people-pleaser, and hated to disappoint people. I worked myself up into an anxious, fearful state on the way to the dentist. My mom and I were both red-faced hot messes upon arrival.<br />
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At the dentist, I remember them putting the little mask on my face to give me the laughing gas, then my memory gets really fuzzy, with just scary glimpses. The first glimpse featured the dentist and dental hygienist both imploring me to keep my mouth open. The edges of my field of vision were fuzzy like television static. The next glimpse had the hygienist trying to keep my mouth pried open with her fingers as the dentist hissed at her angrily. The next glimpse showed my mom trying to drag my limp weight to the car. The next glimpse I awoke in the back of our car alone and cold in our closed garage, too exhausted and loopy to get myself out of the car and into the house. I'm told that my dad had to lift me out of the car and carry me up to my room after he got home from work. I slept through the night with no dinner and no bath. I slept through my alarm the next morning and through my parents' attempts to get me up for school. The next afternoon, I finally stumbled myself to the bathroom and vomited bile. That's all I remember.<br />
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I did not get another cavity for twenty two years.<br />
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I'm not scared of my current dentist. The older male dentist tells silly dad jokes. The younger female dentist and I talk about books and fashion. The hygienists and assistants there are all really nice. They offer hot neck wraps. A massage therapist makes the rounds giving hand massages to patients while we get our teeth checked and cleaned. The lobby is decorated in a bold late 1990s style featuring lots of purple and clashing jewel-tones. Easy-listening music plays out of the speakers. No drama there.<br />
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Still, I always refuse the nitrous oxide.<br />
<br />Jenn C.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15740069137865343888noreply@blogger.com