American Pelican

New Goal for Recycling & Waste

I think we generate more than the daily 4-lb per person amount of trash in my family. The time is coming for us to take our trash processing to the next level.

Nudging Recycling from Less Waste to None

The Kind of Girl I Never Was

David sent a link to this photo of a girl walking her miniature pony at a Kyle, Texas pet parade.

Dublin (Days 1 & 2)

Sunday, May 10, 2009

We landed in Dublin and pulled our bags off the carousel in Baggage Claim around 9 AM. Two friendly CIE guys spotted the yellow CIE luggage strap on our bags—they were there to collect CIE tourists and drop them at their hotels. (We were actually a day early so it was really nice of these guys to make an unscheduled stop at our hotel and save us the 30 euro (about $50) for the cab ride... Jason)

While waiting to board the shuttle to our hotel, we visited the Jameson Bar to get some coffee and sprawl out a bit. At first I figured that this place was just a tad high on prices since they had a monopoly on the Baggage Claim area. After a few more days, I would learn that prices really were that high ($4 cups--tee, tiny cups--of coffee, for instance--no refills!) and that the Irish are not as into the artificial sweetener culture as are we Americans. (Ok, this is an understatement. The entire island is about as expensive as downtown Manhattan. Beer is 5 Euros ($8); so you can imagine how broke I feel, lunch runs about $30-35, and dinner with drinks can be twice that, and that is in the pubs, not the fancy restaurants. But, the quality is generally very high. Word to the wise, if you are planning a trip to Ireland, allow for twice the spending money you will think you need).

I had no choice but to accept the high prices, and I learned to stuff my bum bag full of Canderel (lots of it, because it's not very sweet), which made me look like that kind of tourist. The kind that can't just let go of her comforts and preferences. (She really did this. I was more inclined to just start drinking my coffee without sweetener (good for you!) or use regular sugar or brown sugar crystals (Irish love brown sugar). Kim got strange looks every time she asked for the artificial stuff. They would grumble, go digging around and invariably come up with a handful of it from someplace.)

After about 40 minutes of hanging in the Jameson Bar, the two jolly tour guides led us to the coach. We drove from the airport to the Camden Court Hotel.

The tour guide who was driving talked the whole way. He cracked really simple jokes, the kind that the median tourist would love, I guess, and then he would wildly laugh and snort after telling them. I told Jason that we should be glad to not have this guy as our guide--that he would drive us nuts. Jason could not hear the snorting, apparently. He found the guy charming. (Oddly, the guide we did get was just the opposite. Anytime you would ask a question he would rebuke "If you wait a minute, I'm gonna tell ya, jeez." But, he really grew on you after awhile...like a fungus or a grumpy uncle you cannot help but like).

They drive on the left in Ireland, and they use lots of roundabouts, and I was still confused after 10 or so days as a pedestrian. The habit of first looking left when crossing the street, rather than right, is deeply ingrained (go Mum!). (Next time, I am driving...gotta give it a whirl.)

We did a lot of walking on our first day in Ireland, and we saw a lot of sights. At the beginning of the day, I looked over our options for sight-seeing, but the thing that attracted me above all else was the idea of visiting St. Stephen's Green and lie about and read or nap. But we didn't make it that far due to having so much else to do, and if we had, I would have learned that you don't really want to lie around on Irish grass, unless you're cool with getting wet.

So, after being dropped at the Camden Court Hotel, we stowed our luggage, and struck out into the streets to do the following in a somewhat similar order:
We walked down Grafton Street on our way to Trinity College. Grafton is a fun window-shopping district with side alleys of hippie vendors selling jewelry, hats, clothes, etc.

Once at Trinity College, the plan was to catch the walking tour of Dublin. We did the walking tour for 10-15 minutes, but the guide was too soft-spoken, and we just couldn't hear his brilliance. So, we ditched and visited the Book of Kells exhibit to see the illuminated gospels made by Celtic monks centuries ago. On our way out of the Kells exhibit, we passed through the Trinity College Library, which I found to be delightful in its old-world kind of way.

As we wandered the campus, we passed a number of sculptures for which I could muster no appreciation. For instance, you'll see a picture of one of us in front of a metal ball-in-a-ball. Now that I am rested, I can see that that's a pretty nifty sculpture. On that day, in my sleep-deprived condition, I was having a hard time thinking past my own needs and perceived ills.

I wanted out of Trinity College because we were ravenous (my Id was dominant). After some wrong turns, we finally escaped and made our way back toward the lively Grafton Street area. We settled for lunch at Nude Cafe, and I should emphasize the word settled. It's outer wrapping lured me in. It appeared to serve healthy fare to intelligent people. (It must have been the green eco-paint that deceived me). One dirty restroom, hard bench-seat, and over-priced bread bowl of forgettable soup later, I learned not to re-visit Nude. I would later learn that my favorite food and ambience by far would be that found in pubs.

Having eaten, we decided to hop on the Hop-on/Hop-off Dublin Sightseeing Tour Bus. It was the most efficient way to get an overview of the city. Patty was our driver, and he spoke a million thickly-Irish-accented words a second, it seemed. Heading south from Trinity College, he took us to the south and the east a bit, and then we headed north and west past Christ Church on our way to the Guinness Brewery.
At the Guinness Brewery, you had to go through about 8 floors of tactile exhibits, and the prize at the top of the building was a panoramic bar where you got your 'free' pint of Guinness.

We hopped back onto the bus and got off at the Kilmainham Gaol, which was an incredible experience in the hands of an excellent tour guide. Visiting here gave us a good sense of the civil strife that has plagued recent Irish history, from the late 1700s through the early 20th Century. Perhaps what struck me most were the stories of the children jailed here for stealing food during the Famine of the 1840s and 50s. Another thing that struck me was that the main room of cells (see image) was designed so that the jailers could hear a pin drop. In later years, this main room has been used for musical concerts because the acoustics are so good.

We left the Gaol and hopped back on the bus, which took us to the north side of the city center. We almost went to the Jameson Distillery and the nearby St. Michan's Church (with mummified remains on display in the crypt!), but we moved along, passing through the Henry Street shopping district on our way to see the world's first maternity hospital as well as the Garden of Remembrance, a memorial to Irish insurgents across the centuries.

We strolled down O'Connell St with its Georgian facades to the General Post Office, where we got to read the Proclamation of the Republic, which Patrick Pearse read to a crowd of people outside of the post office in 1916.

Pausing for pictures as we headed our way south (about 6 PM by this point), we trekked to our hotel in about 25 minutes.

We took a delicious bath in a very long, skinny bathtub with lava-hot water. I painted my face anew, and we felt so fresh that we decided to go to the Bleeding Horse pub next door to our hotel. There, I had a chicken soup with wheaten bread (I would do soup and bread daily for the remainder of the trip), and Jason had a plate of fish and chips that he found scrumptious.

Then, we returned to our room and passed out.


Monday, May 11, 2009
On Day 2, we slept till about 9:40, and then went downstairs for breakfast. It was an excellent array of fruits, yogurt, eggs, sausages, and breadstuffs. They had these toaster ovens with a little wire conveyor belt that dropped the bread to the rear somehow. Having never used one before, I deigned to use it on this occasion. Jason, however, jumped right in with this device and got a scone stuck in it. An Englishman witnessed this horror, and was retelling the tale to his wife: Some American bloke got a scone stuck in the toaster!

It was at this breakfast that I became an eater of fried eggs.

I cannot exactly recall what we did on this day. We had lunch at an 811-year-old pub: the Brazen Head, established in 1198. I had soup and wheaten bread again!

Oh, and we visited Christ Church Cathedral, which was begun in 1038 by King Sitric Silkenbeard (love the name!). I loved the floors in this church, as you will see in my slideshow available at the top of this post. The crypt was kind of neat. Apparently, they used to hold market down there. On display, we got to see the mummified cat and mouse that James Joyce speaks of in Finnegan's Wake:

"...As stuck as that cat to that mouse in that tube of that Christchurch organ..."












what remains?

Introducing Our Trip to Ireland

Last night, Jason and I just returned from a 10-day tour of Ireland. (Ok, I need to throw in my 2 cents so I will, in blue text--Jason)

Why Ireland?

Well, Jason really wanted to go. He likes Irish music (love it), beer (ditto), and cool weather (an obsession). And, over the past 7 to 8 years, we've gathered up some goodly excuses for going: honeymoon for both of us (7 years later but, hey, who's counting), reward for earning a PhD (we both get credit for that one!), and Jason's achieving the age of 40! (I like how you use the word "achieving." Like I actually worked at it.)

We decided to go on a coach tour, which I am very glad we did. You see, I'm plum sick of planning things. I'm always telling my students when to do what and then there are the multiple family calendars to juggle. It sounded truly vacational to me to hop on a coach and just be driven everywhere (One should point out that, with the exception of a few people, the coach was a rolling rest-home. I kept expecting to have to perform CPR on someone before we were finished.)

Granted, hopping on a coach means that you can't exactly go local, but who gives a flip? (I did in parts). I know where I come from, and I have no desire to be anything but the the proud, American redneck that I am (no comment).

We chose CIE's Irish Legends Tour. This took us in a nice little loop around the lower half of the island, starting and finishing in Dublin (see map, lovie).

In the weeks prior to taking this trip, I had serious doubts as to whether or not we'd actually go (as did I). The biggest worry I had was that the new swine flu would shut everything down. Vice President Biden (gaffe machine) made a casual remark about how people ought to avoid airplanes about 10 days prior to our departure, and entire school districts were shutting down in places, etc. I worried that Mimi, Pop, and/or Uncle David (the (world class) babysitting crew, don't you know?) wouldn't want to fly under such conditions. I just didn't think it possible that I could take my very own, all-grown-up vacation.

Well, all that worked out didn't it? I didn't even end up cracking out my N-95 face mask on the aeroplane (She is NOT kidding. These were in our carry-ons along with 300 or so disinfecting wipes. I am surprised she did not pack some survival rations and a thermal blanket as well).

In later blog posts, I will be telling you all about the trip, and I'll likely follow a chronology similar to our basic sleeping pattern:

Nights 1 and 2: Dublin
Nights 3 and 4: Kilkenny
Nights 5 and 6: Killarney
Nights 7 and 8: Gallway
Nights 9 and 10: Dublin (again)

We road in a magnificent coach driven by Jim Lynch (pictured with the coach below). His people were a ruling clan in the West of Ireland centuries ago, although he is currently a Dubliner himself (Jim is an interesting character. Kinda like a grumpy government office worker meets chain-smoking Jack Kerouac after a few drinks.)

In my post on Gallway, perhaps I'll mention Lynch's Tower, which is now a bank.

Regarding travel to Ireland...

We left our house at 10 AM on Saturday, May 8, arriving an hour later at the airport. After some delay, we hopped our plane to Philadelphia. We hung out in the Philly airport for several hours. We walked a ton and I found a nice pair of jeans on sale at the Gap in the airport (Great, all the way to the Philly airport to shop at the Gap. Great start to the trip). Jason surfed the wireless, and our spirits were still high.

Then, around 8 PM or so, we boarded the next flight. I read my book Under the Banner of Heaven a bit (she has been reading me passages from this book for weeks that have given me nightmares), while Bride Wars played on the airplane movie set. What an amazing book for anyone interested in Mormonism (I think she improperly uses the word "interested." But, that would take a while to explain.)

(I resisted watching that film Bride Wars on the way to Ireland, but I watched it on the flight back. You see, one of my coachmates explained how into weddings she was. According to her, she would avoid studying for finals to go surf bridal websites and such...and she's not even engaged yet. Talking with her piqued my interest in the wedding subculture, and I even got Jason to watch the entire movie, much to his torment.) Ok, here I have to comment about this "film." This was one of the worst, most contrived pieces of shit I have ever been forced to sit through. After 10 days of being steeped in history that, in some instances, predates the pyramids and meeting locals and touring mind blowing sites, this movie was obscenely vapid. How they ever got such talented actresses to agree to do this hunk of crap is an utter mystery. Seriously, watching my dog do his business is more entertaining.

So, anyways, at about midnight, Jason and I tried to sleep. I was in the middle seat, and he was on the aisle. (A 25-year-old activist got the window seat, and slept at least 5 hours with that sweet, sweet wall to lean against!) We tried having me lie across his lap (my lap, not the cute little activist guy. Please mind your pronouns dear.) while he slept upright. In total, I clocked 30 minutes of sleep before my right side woke me up all kinked and throbbing (Yeah, it was really comfortable for me as well).

We stayed awake the long remainder of the flight. (It's a short flight, actually, at about 6 hours, but I've got to get my whine in here.)

So, we were off the plane in Dublin around 4 am Eastern Standard Time. But, of course, the morning was just commencing in Dublin.

That day in Dublin was one of zombie-wandering in an increasingly cloudy haze. I kept wondering when my body would let go of its desire to sleep, hoping some circadian rhythm magic would click on like it used to in college (Actually, I was quite wired with excitement. In a weird sort of way, it felt like coming home....strange).

As I will hopefully tell you in my next blog posting, we did a ton of touristy stuff on that day, starting with the area around Trinity College, moving west to Kilmainham Gaol, and then crossing over to the north side of the River Liffey to the O'Connell Street area.

View Larger Map

In my sleepy, unkempt state, and in my comfortable American mom pants (Ok, you opened the door on this one: Click Me), I wandered, and I felt a bit dowdy. Our hotel room wasn't available until late in the afternoon.

Exhausted, defenses down, I appeared as shown in the lefthand picture. The insecure middle schooler in me wanted to look as shown in the righthand picture (Ok, that is just frightening. Your giant head would constantly cause you to fight tipping over).


I didn't feel so bad in days that followed. I got sleep, got clean, and then I donned my Grandpa Bulger Major's brown sweater (I actually love this sweater. I goes great with the hat she bought in Ireland) and some comfy jeans, and off I went.

So, I wouldn't sweep Europe with my street sashay in stylin' duds...maybe next time. :)










Every few days, Jason and I would upload a bunch of pictures to his Facebook page. My mother-in-law expressed the desire to see me smile more. A smile really makes a difference to people, doesn't it? When I force a smile in pictures and then go and visit that picture later, I think Gosh, I look so happy. And the perceived happiness spreads like warm butter....

But sometimes I prefer not to smile because, well, I think because it can get a little fake. Do cows smile when you take their picture? Do bicycles smile? (why stop there, weirdo)

Or maybe we should just admit it now:

I'm a broody, smileless woman. :)

Happy Birthday, Ms. Johson!

Willow sings to one of her kindergarten teachers, Ms. Johnson.

Have a listen.

Maple Street, Carrollton, GA