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An oldie but a goodie:
Go Tar Heels!
It must be something about this time of year. Spring training, the regular-season-ending Carolina-Dook game. It makes me think about that first year in Houston, the one I thought would never be equaled. 2001. (I was right, although I suppose I would extend it from a year out to about 18 months before it started to go wrong.) That brings us back (always) to WM. He used to say that the best year of my life was the worst year of his. Not because of me. Or maybe it was because of me. Anyway.
Sometime around 2003, when things had changed entirely, I made a mix CD. I used to do this when I was depressed, make cheesy mix CDs. I probably still would, if only I had the time to be depressed properly. I had a dream about WM the other night so I pulled out the CD and listened to it on my way to work this morning. It literally made my heart ache. Well, maybe not literally. It was probably psychosomatic. But there was an ache in the vicinity of my heart.
Track List
1. Born to Fly (Sara Evans)
February 2001 -- I walked onto the field at Enron Field and it was like all was right with the world. And that just reminded me that the Ruggles Cafe had the best tomato basil soup.
2. That's as Close as I'll Get to Loving You (Aaron Tippin)
April 2001 -- I think this one is self-explanatory. It's what I thought at the time. And, ultimately, it's not far off.
3. I'm a Survivor (Reba McEntire)
May 2001 -- WM thought his wife looked like Reba.
4. One More Day (Diamond Rio)
July/August 2001 -- singing in the intern cube at work
5. Angry All the Time (Tim McGraw & Faith Hill)
This one, hmm. It's possibly the greatest song of all time. I should probably have put "The Cowboy in Me" here because that's the one that was playing in the car that night at Kay's before we went to Timberwolf, but "Angry All the Time" is just so ... right.
6. I Wanna Talk About Me (Toby Keith)
Dec 2001/Jan 2002 -- Timberwolf.
7. How You Remind Me (Nickelback)
8. I Don't Want You to Go (Carolyn Dawn Johnson)
The futon.
9. Maybe it was Memphis (Pam Tillis)
"Maybe it was you, maybe it was me, but it sure felt right." And this one gets a special bonus for me eventually moving to Memphis, etc.
10. My Sacrifice (Creed)
Actually that happened later. HAHA. I crack myself up. Decisions were made.
11. Wasting My Time (Default)
A WM favorite during this time period. In retrospect I appreciate it for the line: "when did our light turn from green to red."
12. Superman (Five for Fighting)
13. I'm Movin' On (Rascal Flatts)
Jan 2002 -- That's what he said.
14. Wherever You Will Go (The Calling)
15. Meet in the Middle (Diamond Rio)
Serendipitous. Is that a word?
16. Not a Day Goes By (Lonestar)
June 2002 -- This one came on the radio in the driveway in Pearland (...before), and I so fervently wished it had been "I'm Movin' On" instead because WM turned it up and sang along.
17. When You Lie Next to Me (Kellie Coffey)
June 2002 -- Another self-explanatory one.
18. It Matters to Me (Faith Hill)
19. The Good Stuff (Kenny Chesney)
20. The One (Gary Allan)
So, um .... yeah.
...And now for something completely different.
So Patrick turned two. And then celebrated his third Christmas. We saw Santa but he didn't get his picture taken with the Big Guy in the Red Suit. I am not sure if this makes me a good mom or a bad one. (Heh.) I wanted to get the picture but I wasn't really a fan of braving the mall. And then we did, one snow day, and there were maybe two kids in front of us in line, and Patrick waved at Santa and played peekaboo and smiled and absolutely refused to get anywhere near him. We have pictures of mildly whiny (and mildly ill) Patrick with Santa last year and clearly unhappy Patrick with the Easter Bunny from this year, so I was sort of hoping for Screaming!Patrick with Santa this time around, but alas. For his birthday, Grandma got him a "Night Before Christmas" book and ever since then, we have had to read "the Santa book" Every. Single. Night, so if we had just gotten that a little earlier, perhaps we would have had some more success on that front.
Anyway, I digress. Two. There are tantrums, I suppose -- but not too many yet and we mostly ignore Little Man and let him flail about on the floor and he calms down before too long -- but two is rather delightful so far. Patrick gives "big hugs" and if you ask for a kiss, he will present you with his cheek. Very regal. Lately he has started saying "I do it" for most things, including, say, pouring his own sweet tea. He doesn't get to do that, but he does get to try to put the top on his sippy cup. Then it becomes "Mommy do it." It's cute.
Patrick has been enthralled with vacuum cleaners for a while now. He insists upon emptying the dirt and vacuuming at Grandma's house and always wants to vacuum at home and regales us with stories of how Maddy vacuumed at daycare. He got a vacuum cleaner for his birthday, and for a week did not let it out of his sight. Those batteries went quicker than any other toy we've had. Since then he likes it but not quite as much. Patrick is also being groomed to be a total boy. His father (ahem) keeps buying him trucks and other things that go. We have no more room.
Patrick likes candy and cookies and sweet tea (sigh), hairdryers (heh), plugs/cords, and dancing. He has recently figured out that our alarm clock has a radio, and he likes to carry it from room to room, plug it in (he can pull out the plug-protectors, something which sometimes even I cannot do), turn on the radio and dance. He knows he's not supposed to mess with the plugs but he also knows I think it's cute when he dances so the little manipulator uses it to his advantage.
We've successfully transitioned to the big boy bed, with the help of Magic Bumpers. Patrick, who likes getting under the covers when it's not bedtime, or in any other bed, REFUSES to get under his own covers. He insists upon sleeping with his blanket (we have several; he's not picky about which one in particular), which he takes downstairs every morning when he wakes up. Like his mother, Patrick is not a morning person. He goes to bed around 9, usually without too much fuss, and wakes up just in time for Curious George ("monkey on TV!") at 8. He likes to make cinnamon toast "pop up!" and doesn't like to get dressed and go to daycare. I sympathize with this, which is why my arrival times at work seem to be getting progessively later.
After daycare, we have to take a left turn to go home. Every day, Patrick asks to turn right to get hash browns from Bojangles. I haven't given in yet, but his father (and grandma, on the rare occasions that she picks him up) often do.
We haven't really started potty training yet, but we do have a potty, and we do ask if he wants to use it. He has expressed some interest and successfully peed in the potty twice. I am sure this will embarrass him later in life, but what the hell, he can do it to his own kids in turn. He wants to go sometimes when the mood strikes him, and he stands there and sticks his belly ... and other things ... out and tries so hard to make something happen. It doesn't, and then he goes on the floor five minutes later. We're working on it. I suppose I might make more of an effort next month, when it starts to get warmer. Although we already let him run around naked half the time. Hm.
|  | MOMMY'S |
DADDY'S |  |  |
I was over at my parents' house last weekend, complaining about hospital bills and car repair bills and tax bills (suck it, government) and how I was worried about my future fertility and my dad interrupted me to say, "Well at least you're ALIVE."
And, hey, thanks, Dad, way to ruin my pity party. I might point out that I get my bitching ability FROM HIM. Anyway, he's right, of course, and I know that I/we am/are lucky and blessed and we have Patrick and our health (er, mostly) and a roof over our heads, etc., etc. But complaining is more fun than talking about everything that's going well. It's why power couples don't last on soap operas. (Not that I, you know, watch those.) Talking about all the great things in your life is just not that compelling.
However, I will bore you with my tales of Ireland in the interest of keeping it happy (and, um, remembering my trip for posterity). You can blame my dad. That will start with the next entry.
Until then, I just want to say that there are two reasons I keep complaining:
1. I'm sad.
2. I'm scared.
This is not abnormal, or uncommon, I don't think. Many people go through many things worse than this, and many of them probably handle it better but oh well. I'm sad and I'm scared.
Fathers Day, 2001
I was working for the Astros. (LOVE.) On Sundays following afternoon games, kids got to run the bases. On Fathers Day it was a big 'dads and kids' push. I had this conversation with my boss (who had known me for approximately four months) and my coworker (who had known my boss for much longer):
Boss, not seriously: We should go down there.
Me: But we're not fathers.
Boss: You know, [my wife] lost a baby in October.
Me: <O.M.G. Cannot believe I just said that, but holy hell, how was I supposed to know? Ackackack.>
Boss: It was only five weeks. She was fine. Her mom came and stayed.
Coworker: Are you going to try again?
Boss: Well, yeah, maybe, but that would mean we'd have to have sex.
Me: <still standing there, looking stricken>
Boss, seeing the look on my face, to me: Sorry.
October, 2010
At my aunt's house, getting ready for my Grandpa's funeral the next day.
Mom: We used to go visit the cemetery when we were kids. And I would always see the stone for "Baby Ring." I just thought it must have been our grandparents. I didn't realize it would have been our sister. She was stillborn in 1950. I asked Mom once what they would have named her. They would have named her Linda.
Last Thursday
Mom: So how did you appointment go?
Me: ... There was no heartbeat. [etc. etc.] Now I'm just waiting and hoping things happen naturally.
Mom: I wish I was there to give you a hug. I know it probably doesn't help but I did go through it, too. ... Did they tell you that ... you'll actually see it? I mean, it will come out.
Me: Well I googled.
Last Friday
Me, to my brother: Did Mom tell you what happened...?
Brother: Dad did. I'm sorry. That sucks.
Brother, later: Just think of it this way. This will make you feel better: if Mom wouldn't have had a miscarriage, then you wouldn't have ME as a brother!
Last Saturday
Me, to my dad: So [Brother] said if Mom hadn't had a miscarriage, then he wouldn't have been born.
Dad: Did he talk to your mother? She said the same thing.
Me: I don't think the exact same sentiment was behind it.
Dad: It brought up a lot of bad memories for her. It took her back to when she had her miscarriage. It was over Christmas; you were about 3 or 4. Same thing as you, about nine weeks.
Me: Did her baby die and they didn't know until later?
Dad: Well, no. I think her placenta just didn't work. She delivered it. I mean, it was alive. She delivered an intact amniotic sac and she handed it to me and the baby was swimming around inside. I mean, it stopped within a minute or so.
Me: <EEEEIIII.>
I just had a bad feeling. Of course, I had a bad feeling about our flights to/from Ireland as well, so I'm not so big on trusting my intuition these days. But a bad feeling.
I step on the scale and am super excited to see that I have gained just 0.8lbs -- and over the holidays, too. Now they can't lecture me! I go pee in a cup and head to Exam Room 7. My BP is 134/82. I think it's high because I'm nervous but the nurse doesn't even comment. Today I'm seeing a new NP (new meaning I haven't met her), Amanda, and she asks how I'm doing. I launch into a monologue about how I'm feeling anxious and what if, worst-case scenario, I die and the baby dies and Patrick grows up without a mother... Of course, in my head I have gone down to fifth-worst-case scenario. I am nothing if not thorough.
I win a prescription for Zoloft. A "baby" dose. I also get a lecture on how I need to exercise more. Sigh. It appears the lecture portion of the appointment is unavoidable.
Today's exam is the physical exam, but I got the lower half of it out of the way last time. So I just have to disrobe from the waist up. She checks out the boobs and is about to leave, actually, when she says, "Oh! The heartbeat!" Pulls out the doppler. Nothing. All over the belly. Nothing.
"It's harder to find if I haven't done the physical exam," she says, "because I don't know exactly where your uterus is."
"You can feel my uterus, if that'll help," I say.
After some more "hunting and pecking" we proceed to uterus feeling. ("Your cervix is WAY UP THERE, girl!") She determines it is midline. She gets the doppler back out. Nothing. "The doppler is picking up a heart rate in the 140s," she says, "but sometimes the blood flow in the mom is so loud that we can't hear it. All I can hear is your aorta."
Off to the ultrasound room we go. "I don't have a bad feeling about this," says Amanda. "I do," I say, after she walks out. I have to pee but I don't go.
When Dave, the ultrasound guy, starts looking around, I can tell there's no heartbeat. But he's looking on the right side of my stomach (npt the "midline"), so I can't be 100 percent exactly sure what he's looking at. There's a lot of stuff in there, after all. He keeps looking around. He measures the blob. I see him type "CRL ... 8w6d." It should be 14w1d. Finally he says, "I'm having trouble finding the heart tones. I'm just going to get another pair of eyes."
I know what that means. Another person I've never met comes in. Her name is Georgina. She takes one look at the screen and she knows. "Did you do a crown-rump length?" she asks.
"The first time was 9 weeks and the second time was 8w6d," says Dave.
Georgina tells me what I already know. She is kind about it. I am crying. She leaves, and Dave looks at my ovaries.
He says, "Was this planned or unplanned?" I tell him it was planned. Well," he says, "sometimes if it's unplanned this can be a blessing." Uh huh. He leads me back to an exam room. I have a different one this time. Amanda comes back and says, "I didn't expect this at all. Although I did think your uterus was a little bit small." She says all the right things. It's not my fault. It happens; in fact, it happens 25 percent of the time in the first trimester. She goes over my options. I have actually thought about these options before, because I am an obsessive worrier AND an obsessive googler. I opt to try to let nature take its course, at least for now.
"How long will it take?" I ask.
"Usually it can take up to a month after fetal demise," she says.
"But if the baby stopped growing at 9 weeks and I'm supposed to be 14 weeks and 1 day..."
"It will happen," she says. She tells me to come back next week. She says she thinks I should still get the prescription for Zoloft. She says she thinks I should skip the baby shower I'm supposed to attend tomorrow.
I leave.
|
Dec. 14, when the heart was still beating. |
1. What did you do in 2010 that you’d never done before? Went to Ireland. Became the parent of a 2-year-old. (Heh.) I want to say there were more firsts but I don't think there were. It was pretty boring (but I mostly mean that in a good way).
2. Did you keep your New Year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I don't have the energy to look up if I made any. I usually don't make formal resolutions because then I don't have to stick to them. If I did, I bet they were lose weight (which I did, though some of it came back) and blog more (which I didn't).
3. Did anyone close to you give birth? Yes! But way back in February.
4. Did anyone close to you die? My Grandpa Jack.
5. What places did you visit? Berkeley Springs, WV; Boone, NC; Atlanta, GA; Des Moines, IA; Sunset Beach, NC; Ireland. Did I go anyplace else? I would have gone to Pittsburgh, had I been invited, but I wasn't.
6. What would you like to have in 2011 that you lacked in 2010? Sigh. A nicer house. With more room. More savings. More money.
7. What dates from 2010 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? Er, none, because I can't think of any tonight and it's still 2010. I mean, I remember timeframes but I'd have to look up exact dates. That's why it's nice that photos have timestamps.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Um. Crap. Ooh, I know. I lost 25 pounds. And some other stuff I can't mention because it's work related.
9. What was your biggest failure? Convincing James that budgeting is a good idea. (In second place: keeping my house clean.)
10. Did you suffer illness or injury? Nothing major but with a toddler in daycare we are always sick over here. Fun with the Hodges! Also, I woke up one night in the summer with excruciating pain in my jaw and had to get my (only) wisdom tooth pulled. And they didn't give me the gas.
11. What was the best thing you bought? Well I paid off my car, which was cool. And we bought a new washer and dryer which has certainly been awesome if not sexy.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration? Patrick. :)
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Can we just go with politicians in general?
14. Where did most of your money go? James. I mean, technically the mortgage was probably our biggest expense. But he is the spender in the family.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Our vacations. And then I got really, really, really excited about coming home.
16. What song will always remind you of 2010? Highway 20 Ride, If I Die Young
17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? Same. There are a lot of things I am happy about but I should be happier because I worry so damn much and that makes me sad. Also thinking about money or lack thereof makes me stressed, which contributes to sadness rather than happiness.
b) thinner or fatter? Thinner. But fatter than I was in, say, June.
c) richer or poorer? Poorer. We have too much debt.
18. What do you wish you’d done more of? Playing.
19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Working. And worrying.
20. How did you spend Christmas in 2010? We opened our presents at our house in the morning, then went to my parents' house in the afternoon, then my aunt and uncle and cousin flew in that evening and we opened yet more presents. And it snowed! It was the first white Christmas in the Raleigh/Durham area since 1947.
21. Did you fall in love in 2010? Nah. I know I'm supposed to say I fell in love with Patrick and James all over again, every day, but ... I already love them. I don't know.
22. What was your favorite TV program? So sad, but Teen Mom. I still watch Bones and House and Grey's Anatomy but they disappoint me on a regular basis.
23. What did you do for your birthday in 2010? We went out to dinner with my parents to a steakhouse, then my mom made me these awesome brown sugar cupcakes with browned butter icing and then I got sick. Yaaay.
24. What was the best book you read? I finally got around to reading The Kite Runner, like two years after everyone else. I don't WANT that to be my favorite but I can't really remember anything else. I got some books for Christmas that I've been wanting to read for a while.
25. What did you want and get? **censored** and our honeymoon, finally. (Ireland, again.)
26. What did you want and not get? The credit card(s) paid off. A computer. A bathroom remodel.
27. What was your favorite film of this year? Did I watch any movies this year? 2010 is looking kind of pathetic. I'm sure I enjoyed some movies. I watched a bunch on my overseas flights. Clearly nothing super memorable though.
28. Did you make some new friends this year? No. I really don't think I did. Same neighbors, same co-workers. Sad but true.
29.What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Winning the Powerball and not having to worry about money.
30. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2010? I went back to 2007 (since I could finally fit into those clothes again, and you'd better believe I saved them).
31. What kept you sane? Having my me time.
32. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Would you judge me if I said Ben Roethlisberger? Of course you would. I've always fancied Ben Affleck, JLo relationship notwithstanding.
33. What political issue stirred you the most? Tax cuts. Budgets. Stupid spending.
34. Who did you miss? Who I always miss. Also, sometimes, my previous life. Not like I want it back, but man, those were some good times.
35. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2010. Always take a nap if you can.
So we went to Ireland. (More on that later.) Patrick stayed with his grandparents. When we returned, my mom said, "I don't know if he'll do this at your house, but if he says 'poop' it's because the kitty pooped on the porch while he was here." We have our litterbox for our kitty in the upstairs bathroom and Patrick already knows it's the "yucky kitty" room, but yesterday, he gleefully pointed to the room and announced, "POOP."
"Oh," I said, "did the kitty poop?"
"Uh huh. POOP."
"Well, Daddy will have to clean it up."
"Daddy?"
"Yes, Daddy will clean it up."
Patrick looked at me, then looked down the stairs toward where his father was watching TV on the couch, then belted out, "HONEYYYY!"
I cracked up so he did it again later. It was hilarious.
There's really only one reason the last day of our trip deserves an entry: breakfast. Otherwise it would be: "We got up. We went to the airport. We flew home." I mean, I'm way more wordy than that, but that's the essence.
But breakfast! The breakfast spread, to continue the theme at our B&B, was great. There was a table containing juice, milk, cereal, yogurt and granola, and Pauline brought us some tea, which I promptly dribbled on the tablecloth. James made fun of me and then he did the same thing. I had smoked salmon scrambed eggs (which I feel guilty about now since smoked salmon is BAD! for pregnant ladies but I didn't even think about it until later) and James had the Irish breakfast. Ron mentioned that they had good black and white pudding, and so many people did it wrong. He also said about 98 percent of Americans wouldn't even try the black pudding. It's not something I'd eat on a regular basis but I'm glad I tried it. Anyway.
Ron is cooking breakfast. Apparently part of the traditional Irish breakfast -- which we've managed to avoid up until this point -- is fried mushrooms. James and I HATE mushrooms. Since I didn't order the full breakfast, James is the one who gets the bowl full of 'shrooms. We look at each other in horror. We can't eat an entire bowl of mushrooms, but we can't leave it there. This is the best B&B we've stayed at, and the nicest hosts, and we can't leave the mushrooms there.
"You eat some," says James, pushing a large amount on my plate. I eat one. It makes me gag. James winces. I try to swallow a couple without chewing. It doesn't go well. James attempts a mushroom. We are looking around desperately. There is no way we can do this. (Clearly Couples Fear Factor and shows of that ilk are not in our future.) Finally we come up with a plan: I will take the mushrooms and flush them down the toilet in our room. This has to be done before Ron comes back to say goodbye. It is not. I am still in the bathroom when he comes back, but James just says I had to go, and since I have the "pregnant" excuse, it works. Ron and Pauline both come out to send us on our way, and they say we will have to come back and bring our new little one.
They have assured us that the airport is just five minutes away and we will have no trouble making it, so we are only going to arrive about 90 minutes before our internaltional flight. Which will give us plenty of time to shop for the souvenirs we still haven't bought. (Even after all of our minor disasters, I still thought this would be no problem.) The first hitch in the plan comes when we go to drop off our rental car and there's a sign in the window that says "Back soon." Eek. Eventually we make it to the terminal, but there are a few people ahead of us in line and it's not moving very fast. As we check in, the ticket agent mentions that we will actually be going through US Customs there at Shannon, so we'll need to get our asses up there. So we make it through security, have just enough time to mail our last postcard and do a mad dash through the duty free store for cheesy souvenirs (although -- success!), and get to customs for the flight back.
This ends up being convenient, as we don't have to go through customs at JFK, but also confusing, apparently, because the gate agent in New York thinks we've arrived at the wrong gate, until some other agent tells him that we're a domestic flight. No, really. The flight home is a smaller plane than the flight over, but the slightly cramped feeling is offset by the fact that we have individual movie screens and a wide selection of movies to choose from. They fed us pizza. We arrived early back at RDU (from JFK) and had to sit on the runway, which was not fun, as I really wanted to see Patrick. He seemed pleased that we were home.
We were ready to leave Kilkee early, but Brunhilda had told us last night that 8 was too early for breakfast (which I suppose makes sense since she was hanging out in the pub until late) and could we make it 8:30? We said sure; we were afraid not to acquiesce. At 8:30 we were sitting in the dining area, which had a lovely view of the water, and Brunhilda came to take our orders. I think I had the full Irish breakfast again, but I'm not sure. Eggs, bacon, toast, tea, something like that. Suddenly, Mary brought our food. There was no sign of Brunhilda. All we wanted to do was eat and go at that point, but now she was chatty and friendly and wanted to hear about our honeymoon and what we thought of Ireland, and were we coming back...it was awkward.
After breakfast we were on the road, headed for the Cliffs of Moher. It was about an hour north, along the coast. Pretty drive, and it was looking like a nice day, if a bit chilly. Somewhere before the Cliffs we encountered only our second tour bus of the trip. Unfortunately we were stuck behind it on a narrow winding road and it was going slow. Very slow. Luckily we weren't behind it long. I think it stopped at some touristy gift shop and we continued to the cliffs.
The Cliffs of Moher are beautiful. Also very windy. So if you go in November, it's QUITE COLD. And because of the wind, the surf is blown up over the cliffs and onto the walkway, so you can easily become QUITE WET. I insisted that we walk out to the little observation point (and tower, though the tower was closed that day), which meant walking through the surf. The tower is on the edge(ish) of the cliff, and back behind it, if you follow the coastline, it looks like the maintenance ends. There's a muddy lot with a feeble fence, and on it is a sign for the suicide hotline. So yeah, that was fun. We walked from end to end of the (available) cliffs, then headed back to the giftshop to warm up. There was also a movie in the visitors center that made it seem like you were flying above the cliffs. Or that was what it was supposed to do anyway. It didn't, but it was pretty anyway, and the key point here is that is was warm. We dallied in the giftshop for a while but even though it was our last full day and I was becoming frantic about buying souvenirs, I was still unable to commit and left without buying anything.
We got finished seeing the Cliffs fairly early, and James wanted to drive to Shannon, where we had our last overnight before flying out the next morning. He figured we could get our shopping done, as Shannon must be a bustling town since it has an international airport. (We were still very naive, even after almost a week in Ireland.)
On the way to Shannon, we drove through the Burren, a national park where the ground is basically made of rock (technically limestone, I think). It was amazing to see. And there were rock walls everywhere. We wondered when they were from and marvelled at how hard it must have been to make. From my handy guidebook, I learned that there was an ancient portal tomb, the Poulnabrone Dolmen, was in the middle of the Burren, just off the road we were on, so we stopped and had a look. It is mind-blowing to think about how old it is.
The interesting thing about our destination for the evening, Shannon, was that we had nowhere to stay. I had put James in charge of B&Bs for the week, with very strong suggestions about where I wanted to stay, and he had gotten everything arranged, except none of the places in Shannon had responded to him. We realized this a few days into our trip, and had used our downtime in the evenings to email other B&Bs. NONE of them responded. We had a B&B guide, and it was the offseason, so we weren't too worried.
And we got VERY lucky. James saw a picture of one of the B&Bs in the guidebook that was an aerial shot and looked like a castle. He wanted to stay there. However, we had no idea where to find it. He pulled into a gas station and the lady behind the counter said to him, "You're looking for Kells, aren't you?" In retrospect, we weren't THAT close, so it shouldn't have been obvious, but we got directions and were on our way. They had a room for the night, and it was easily the best place we stayed. The owners, Ron & Pauline, were delightful and welcoming. (I know I sound like a travel review, but it's true!) The house was great and had been custom built. I think he said it was completed in 2000. They had turned it into a B&B once their kids left home. It was mid-afternoon, but we hadn't had lunch yet, and Ron recommended the Weaver's Inn, just down the street. There was another couple who had just checked in, and that's where they were going, so we headed out to follow them.
We ended up having lunch with the other couple, they were older, retired and living in San Francisco. It was their second time in Ireland, and their second time at this B&B. They were shocked that we had showed up without a reservation and said how lucky we were to have found the place. We had a really nice time with them, and the food was outstanding. They had traditional pub fare as well as Indonesian food. I had the fish and chips (the first time I'd tried it in Ireland and SO MUCH BETTER than anything in the U.S.) and James had some kind of chicken curry. I think he would've ordered the cheeseburger, but they only had one left, and the lady we were eating with ordered it. There was another peat fire in the fireplace (yay!).
After lunch, we headed off to find downtown Shannon to do our big shopping. After driving in two big circles, we came to the inevitable conclusion that there was no downtown Shannon. Or, we were in it. We ended up at a strip mall which contained the Irish version of Target (I guess) as well as some other forgettable stores. We had coffee and a snack and wandered around for a while, then, discouraged, headed back to our B&B.
We had a wonderful evening back at the B&B. Ron made a fire for us (even though it was a bit on the warm side for a fire) then took us back to his well-stocked bar, located in a small room off the living room. I had to explain why I wasn't drinking, and he congratulated me and brought me a glass of some expensive fruit drink he'd bought that was imported from somewhere and that was supposed to do wonders for your health. The other guy that was staying there came down to the bar as well and Ron told a story about how once he'd gotten some Irish moonshine for a friend who was flying to the U.S., and he told the guy just to roll it in a sweater and put in in his suitcase and he'd be fine, but the guy insisted upon carrying it with him in his trenchcoat. He was caught (but luckily he didn't squeal on his supplier). Ron also had a picture of his very expensive boat, of which the boys were very appreciative.
