The First US Paddy's Day

comic courtesy of comics.com/frazz

It just won't be the same without being in Ireland. Without friends coming to visit. Without a pub crawl to put together. I might not miss being hungover tomorrow however, but I will miss the vacation. Not that I've much to vacation from at the moment, but you know... it's the idea I miss. March is an amazing time in Ireland. The winter is over and you can actually see the days are getting longer. Leaving work every day is just a bit lighter than the previous day. The tulips and daffodils are pushing up thru the soil. People are starting to come out of their winter grumbling phase and beginning conversations not with "Ah, it's bleak today" but with positive statements. True, it is still cold and the sun still sets around 5pm but there is something inherently optimistic in the air this time of year in Dublin. I'll miss that. Here in Florida, it is far more difficult to see. The landscape is always green, the light is always strong. Were it not for the blooming of the trees, with yellow and pink flowers, nothing would appear different than when I first arrived 6 weeks ago. There is no discernible shift in attitude, no group looking on the sunny side of things. Here in Florida, it is business as usual: green beer and college kids on spring break. I think there will be many things I'll miss about Ireland.

New Stories of the Bus

I've been here just over a month now and while it's going reasonably well, I find living without a car precludes just about everything the good life has to offer here in Florida. There is a bus system, yes, and I have been on it several time. It has Dublin bus beaten by 2 key factors: it runs on time and can be counted upon and it is much cheaper. However, Dublin bus runs, in theory, buses every 5-20 minutes depending on the time of day. Fort Lauderdale runs buses every 45-60 minutes depending on the line. And some of them stop running at 8pm. Handy, but not handy enough.

The central terminal, however is the site of some great performance art. Last Saturday I took in a show I think was entitled "Lazy Low Art". It was a one-woman show that began with several cans of Colt45. After she consumed them, lit her cigarette, and engaged in some barely legible banter with the gentlemen sitting next to me (who knew it was interactive? I should have turned my iPod off) she proceeded to do what I can only describe as a slow motion faint to the ground. Her free hand on the garbage can beside her, she curved her spine the way my pilates instructor hopes I'll one day be able to do, and slowly rolled each bone of her body to the ground, never once losing control of the cigarette which had about 1/4" of ash on the tip of it. She then extended her legs out and refused to rise again, in spite of the requests from the audience and the staff members. By the time the paramedics arrived, the cigarette had accumulated about 1/2" of ash on the tip, still perfectly and expertly held in place by the woman. This is the point I put my iPod on hold. One could sense the climax approaching. The EMT leaned down to speak to the woman, who sat upright to answer that she felt weak, had a bad back and instead of going to the hospital, could he drop her home, it was just around the corner? Yep, all that for a ride home instead of waiting for the bus. The EMT laughed, told her he wasn't a taxi and then departed. Shortly after, the artist, her support team of one, and her still perfectly ashed cigarette walked out of the station into the Florida sun. It was a bravado performance and I was lucky to have taken it in.

The First Florida Post

I'm sufficiently settled into Florida now and I have photos for you all. Click the photo for the link to my welcome and to Valentine's day. He's spoiling me. I won't lie, I love it. I'm in the midst of looking for a job, figuring out where everything is and buying a car. It's a lot of work to do and some days it overwhelms me. Steady on, though, right? So for those that wrote to wish me good luck, thank you very much. I'll get back to you shortly. In the meantime, enjoy the photos.

The Lamentations of Space

The movers have come and gone and taken my Irish Life's collected works to the shipyard. The manager called me late on Friday afternoon to tell me she had a ship leaving Monday morning, if I could get all packed by Saturday evening, I could be on it. It would shave 4 weeks off my transit time.

Hell yes I can get packed in a day. 

In fact, after I loaded the 3 suitcases I will take on the plane, it took me 6 hours. 6 hours, 1 roll of packing tape, and 9 medium sized boxes. It was a stressful day but I got it done. After Sam the mover loaded the last of it, shook my hand, and wished me luck (very Irish thing to do) I looked around the debris field and felt empty. Gloriously empty.

Yesterday I cleaned it all up, finished the give away boxes, and put my room back into a semblance of normality. It is quite bare and I have to say, I like it. I've been living in this room for 3 years and everything I own in Europe, save the paltry kitchen equipment I have, has been stored in this very small room. It is probably 120 sq ft with just enough room for a queen sized bed, a small wardrobe, my dresser and a shoe rack. But I managed to cram all my clothes, my books and movies, my toiletries, my shoes and coats, my iron and board, a laundry basket, a waste basket, and a night stand into the room. I have never felt comfortable with it, because it was all too much STUFF stuffed into the room and now that it has all gone, I have the luxury of looking around and feeling space in my room. I had forgotten how much I enjoy sparseness. 

Which is not to say I'm a minimalist. I like my personal effects but I find it very soothing to see the surfaces. I like to see a bit of space around my things. But for three years, I've not had that luxury. My room is rather typical of second bedrooms in Dublin. It is neither small nor large but for an adult, it is difficult not to spill out of it. Throw last night's clothes on the floor and it is wrecked. A newspaper left behind will make it appear to be the fire trap is really is. But a room needs things in it to comfort the tenant, no? Photos of my family and friends, books and movies to entertain myself on long dark nights, the candle sticks my brother gave me, the Vespa calendar, the bowl my father made for me... these are the things I surround myself with to give me home when I have no Home. 

But now my home is on a ship across the Atlantic. And I will make a new home for myself, however long this post will be, in Florida. I will learn to be a beach person now, leaving my pub self behind here in Dublin. I will eat Cuban food and learn to Salsa. I will wear shorts and flip flops. And I will surround myself with things that remind me of the years I lived in Ireland. The photos of friends, the souvenirs from trips, the DVDs that won't play, the stuff from my room in Irishtown.

Blogging Obamer

I'm sitting on the sofa here in Dublin, watching the swearing in of the American president, live on Sky News. It is odd watching such a truly American event with British accents. Whoever the commentator is, he has a very proper British accent and all his words ending with A come out pronounced -er. Obamer. Pennsylvan-yer Avenue. His daughters 

Mylee-r and Sasher.

They are doing an amazing job of filling the time between celeb sightings with actual content. There is a lot of history attached to this event, which they are explaining.  That he will be sworn in on Lincoln's bible but had the option to use his family's bible instead. That the oath of office is written in the US constitution but the words 'so help me god' were added around the time of FDR.  They are pointing out the different monuments and calling attention to the geography of the area, letting people know it is 1.5 miles from the Lincoln Memorial to the steps of the White House. That the area between the two, filled with millions of people, is known as the Mall. Special details of the president's armoured car were recalled.

Why is Yo Yo Ma the only one who looks like he's having a good time? 

It's an interesting ceremony. I can't remember if last time, or any time, there was this much music. I know it always opens with a prayer and that someone sings My Country Tis of Thee, which people confuse for the national anthem judging by the number of people with hands over hearts, and that the ceremony closes with a poem. I don't remember cannon fire, which is actually quite cool, and I know there weren't so many of those basketball balloon type noise makers.  There should be more flags. 

And now 44 speaks.

It's a good speech, not a great one, but then again, he doesn't really have time for hyperbole, this president. I can't say any other president has had so many pressing issues upon entering. So many things that absolutely must be sorted, fixed, straightened out immediately, as a matter of life, death, and liberty. How can he spare time for metaphors and pretty phrases? This is a back-to-business presidency, not a ceremonial one. It's a tough place to speak from. Inspire while setting out just how difficult things are going to be. 

At least his speech was better than that poem. I'm no fan of poetry, let's get that out there, but when no one is actually sure the poem has ended, it's a bad sign. And I'm amazed at the number of people leaving before and during the benediction. The ceremony isn't over and yet people are streaming from the cold of the mall. It was a great benediction, gotta give him that. 

And now they're interviewing the Man on the Street.  I hate this part of it. A 50+ year old man just confessed this is the first time he's ever felt like he's an American, that he truly belongs in this country. It's also the first time he's ever voted.. That makes me sick. And I hope that among the many things Obama accomplishes in office, he can inspire Americans to get interested in government and politics again. And keep them voting. Nothing changes if apathy makes the decisions.

I also don't remember so much time being devoted to the former president leaving. I guess Sky News wants to make sure the Bush days are truly over. The helicopter has just lifted off, farewell waves are made and it is absolutely official: It is Obama's White House now.

Happy Obama Day everyone.

Recap, Catch Up, Move On

Last I wrote, I was in Wyoming, hanging out with Mom and Dad, taking photos, being a teenager again and waiting out the interminable process of getting approved for my UK work permit. Yea, fun. I'm not good at waiting and I'm less good at waiting with nothing to do, so I looked for a job. Turns out, none of the architecture firms in town wanted me. From my interview with the largest firm, it would seem the reason was I was from Dublin. Why would I want to come live back in Wyoming when I'd been out on the international stage? Could I even be happy living in Wyoming again after all these years?

Clearly, my little attempt at a "truthful lie" failed. I didn't get the job.

So then I decided to fulfill one of my long held dreams: I applied at both of Casper's wine bars. Casper has changed since I got my first degree there. Spas all over the place, coffee bars, indy bookstores. It's all so very gentrified. So I figured I'd try to get myself hired at a wine spot and brush up on my American wine education.

No takers.

I realize I'm over-qualified but Casper has 2% unemployment and people are desperate for help. Clearly not my help. So I went to the restaurant with Dad in the mornings. I washed dishes, which is the only thing I've never done in a restaurant. It is a grimy job and the one thing that can bring a place to its knees in a rush if things go badly. Being the boss's daughter and all, well, it was a bit of pressure. I'm happy to report I kept up just fine but it was a pretty slow morning. I only filled that role once. The rest of the time I chopped veggies, filled the buffet, stocked the line for them, whatever needed done. Mostly, I sat at the counter, chatting with the girls and the regulars, letting Lisa over-caffeinate me. Those were good mornings in truth. There is nothing like Dad's chicken friend steak and eggs for breakfast.

I met my friend Kate one evening and was complaining about the lack of enthusiasm for my resume and willingness to do honest work and she, being a sort of informal Welcome Wagon Hostess, called a bunch of friends and got me a job; 1 shift a week at FYE, a music store in the mall. I know nothing about music, release dates, what the new albums are vs. the old ones... I still call them albums, for pete's sake, which should give you an idea of how ill suited I was for this job. In truth, my whole reason for being was to give the staff coffee and cigarette breaks.  But it got me out of the house and a 30% discount. I spent my entire paycheck in the store. Honestly, I don't know why they even wrote me one. My shifts were spent shopping; browsing the cds and dvds, pulling things back to purchase later. But they were happy with me and I enjoyed it.

Bolstered by my success, and perhaps high from finding Muse on sale for $8, I then did something devious. I lied on my resume to get another job. Yep, I broke the first cardinal rule of employment. I told Macys I was an interior designer with only a bit of college behind me. They bought it and hired me on the spot.

I don't think, when the cardinal rule of employment was written, they meant underselling your qualifications to get a job. I'm pretty sure most people over-inflate their experience to get, well, a better job than they had. But not me, boy. Nope. I dumbed it down to work retail. I cut my salary in order to get a job that paid minimum wage. I got my first check and when Dad asked how much it was, we both laughed. $232.58. 

But I lost 5 pounds my first week. And gained about 700 bruises. When they say retail is a tough industry, I didn't realize it would be so physical. I was in the housewares department, shifting boxes, picking up blenders and coffee makers for old ladies. One afternoon I spent building a display out of cast iron casserole dishes. No one can tell me that isn't hard work. My back was sore, I was sweating and short of breath. I had no need for a gym and that made me quite happy.

That was my life for awhile. I was truly a teenager again. Working at the mall. Sleeping in a twin bed in the spare room. No phone calls after 10pm. Posting my schedule on the fridge so I could get a ride to work. Sneaking food in the grocery cart and hoping they would neither notice nor object. At least I got to hit the liquor store this time around, teaching my mother about wines since her doctor said it was good for her. At night, I'd lie on the floor in the living room, watching TV with them, asking permission to go on the Internet... Then I had a date. That was interesting. 

Well, humiliating in truth to utter this: I'm not pathetic I swear, but I'm a middle age woman who lives with her parents and you'll have to come in the house and meet them before we go to dinner. 

Had the tables been turned, I'd have run like hell. Luckily men aren't as daunted. Plus, he was home with his parents too. His dad had surgery on his knees and needed the help, so Pool Boy came to the rescue. (Yep, Pool Boy. He works for a company in Florida that sells commercial pool equipment. How can you mess with a built in nickname like that?) So there we were, in our late 30s, watching movies in the basement, trying not to get caught making out.

Once Christmas arrived, my visa finally arrived and I was free to go. And go, did I, with all due spped. The day after Christmas, I was on the plane back to New York. I'd had enough of snow and ice and -18 degrees. I stayed a couple of nights in the city with Christine, who is a godsend. We had a great time really, drinking wine and watching design shows on HGTV. Very girly. And then, it was time to finally return to Dublin. 8 months after I left. No job in sight but visa in hand.

I landed here on a clear and sunny morning. Suzie picked me up and we had a great chat over breakfast.  I've been meeting the friends, slowly. It's a quiet time of year normally, but all the more so since the construction recession. You wouldn't know the rest of the country is hurting from the scenes around town. Pubs are full, shops are busy, walking down Grafton Street is just as crowded as before. Yet 40% of the architects in the country are unemployed. England is in worse shape, with many stalwarts of the retail game folding. It's bleak news for a girl who spent 8 months gaining permission to work there. No jobs here, no jobs there. The Middle East has even slowed to a halt.

With nowhere obvious to go, I've been sitting here in Dublin, trying to decide what best to do, looking for a clear way forward. In truth, I was sort of waiting for something to fall in my lap like Ireland did 4 years ago.

Instead, it was subtler than that though no less crazy. My way forward is really a way back. In early February, I'll be joining Pool Boy in sunny south Florida, working on my tan (ha!), getting a job, and seeing if what we started is really real or just a Christmas Romance EP. I always find Christmas the most romantic time of the year, so I could be blinded here. I'll be the first to admit this might not be a good idea. I've never been a boyfriend follower, far too independent for that. I could be moving back in 6 months, you never know. Then again, it might be a great idea. Everyone needs to take a leap of faith now and then. This might be a brilliant move for me. Only one way to find out.

So I'm spending my final days in Dublin packing and sorting, calling moving companies and visiting my favorite spots around town. I'm sad to be going but I'm quite looking forward to my next step. 

And yes, I'm taking the chair.

Yes, Wyoming!

click on image for more photos

If you've ever wondered what it looks like, this is your chance... Photos of Casper, Dad's restaurant, and little else. I'll probably add to the album from time to time, so you may want to check back in a couple of weeks. It's snowed since taking these photos. In fact, it's snowing now. So very glad I decided to lighten my luggage for the Arkansas portion of my exile. I left all my winter clothes in New York. I'm SMART.

Get the Facts

I don't care who you vote for, I care that you vote. And that you know why you are voting for that person. Which is why I place links here so you can arm yourself with information before you cast your ballot.

In this spirit, may I introduce you to this site: http://www.factcheck.org/

It is a non-partisan website that does only one thing: it checks the facts.

Anytime a politician makes a claim, for themselves or against their opponent, FactCheck looks into the truth of the claim and posts the results.

All politicians lie and stretch the truth, regardless of their political affiliation. The news media is just a culpable. Fox, CNN, MSNBC... they are all For Profit outfits. And where there is money on the line, there is an agenda to be achieved.

So investigate the candidates before you vote for them. Know what issues are important to you and find out which candidate actually supports that view. Don't assume your issues are important to the party you support. Know what the Democratic party stands for. Know what the Republican party stands for. And then know how close to that platform your candidate stands.

Uninformed voters are worse than non-voters.



http://www.gop.com/2008Platform/
http://www.johnmccain.com/splash32615.htm
http://www.votesmart.org/voting_category.php?can_id=53270

https://www.democrats.org/
https://donate.barackobama.com/page/content/splashsignup_welcome
http://www.votesmart.org/voting_category.php?can_id=9490


This message has been brought to you by Me, a concerned citizen.

Morning on the Square

click above for more photos of Arkansas

I am sitting on a rock wall on the square in Fayetteville, Arkansas. It is Tuesday Farmers market and I've just purchased a bunch of baby radishes for $1.

A couple of handfuls of people are still mulling about, catching up with friends, shopping, walking the dog. Then there are we curious on-lookers, wondering what it would be like to be greeted with 'Morning there girls!' instead of a polite hello. One man is photographing, as I will be shortly, one is shelling peas and I am enjoying blueberry coffee and the cool morning shade. The coffee isn't as bad as it sounds but the shade is ever bit as good.

It is such a charming farmers market, so very Americana, surrounding the old courthouse, with the stalwarts of downtown retailers forming a protective ring. Behind me is a now defunct Bank of America, currently being renovated in to luxury condos. I'm unsure what they are going to do with the ground floor but the top 2 floors have balconies that overlook this square and, I'd imagine, the hills beyond. This is the high point in the city so quite a view is up for grabs.

It is actually quite peaceful here. The whir of the electric pea sheller mixes well with the splash of the water fountain, the murmur of voices and the occasional car. The church bells tolling the hour only adds to the old-worldliness of it all.

This is the best thing about being unemployed. I get to visit people and experience such a different life from my own.

This past weekend we took the kids and the canoes and went for a long paddle on the lake. It is so overflowing, we were ankle deep in water on the ledge they usually dive from. The trees submerged to the canopies made the whole scene resemble a bayou instead of a great valley lake. The white, gray and oil black bluffs are impressive as ever, but being so near, near enough to touch the striations of time, was simply an otherworldly experience.

The previous weekend, we went out to the cabin at Outlaw Hollow and did absolutely nothing. Napped. Read. Soaked in the hot tub surrounded by acres of nothing but forest, stars, and bright silvery moonlight. Oh and the tree frogs. A deafening cacophony of tree frogs croaking unceasingly. I'd no idea the peace and quiet of the countryside could be so loud. And yet, drifting off to sleep was far easier than its been in months.

Would I be doing this in Dublin? We have a farmers market and it is certainly charming, but there would have been no canoe trip or tree frogs. It's just different here. Less anxiety. Better weather. Fresh okra.

Ah, it is a beautiful day to be unemployed in Arkansas.

A Rainy Day in Fayetteville

It's a rainy day in Fayetteville. Last night, the effects of hurricane Gustav made it to the area. I fell asleep listening to the constant downpour outside and woke to much the same. Sweetie, the dog, and I have been inside all day, watching it come down, wondering if we'll get a break for our walk. It would appear we are waiting in vain.

At least the weather has cooled down.

After my last post, I've heard from several people regarding my options. I thank you all for writing, since it has both made my decision easier, and given me peace of mind. I have heard from many sources that there simply isn't any work to be had at the moment, and one source predicted that it won't pick up until after the new year. Which means I'll be coming back to Ireland to pack and move. I sincerely doubt my Irish visa will be renewed in January.

So I wait and pray for the UK visa to come thru. And wonder what to do with my things in Flatmate Suzie's until I can come collect them. In total retrospect, I should have packed up and found a storage space while I was still there. Then again, in total retrospect, I should have had a decision in mid-July. Should is a very dangerous game to play. In fact, I assert that Should should be outlawed as a concept. It only leads to recrimination and guilt. I have family for that.

My mood has improved since last week, which is helping to wrap my mind around not living in Ireland any more. It sort of sucks to be a guest. I've made a home there in the 4 years I've been in Dublin. No one likes to be evicted from their home, but it is especially difficult after such a long time and being so close to my ultimate goal. Another year in Dublin and I could have applied for my Irish passport. I wonder if I have to start from zero if I move back to Dublin when it recovers?