Twilight Tea

Sleepy eyes.

Feet dragging from the bedroom to the cool kitchen tiles.

Weary eyes peer out the window pane over the sink to find a moonlit wind swept drive.

Peek into a mysterious cupboard to discover Early Grey awaiting a pour.

Half and Half or Straight?

Hot kettle screeches a wakening tune breaking the subdued silence of twilight.

Inhalation of steamy rousing aromas.

Sip…

A familiar knock at the door.

Jingling keys.

Door slowly opens.

Silhouette comes into view.

A becoming smile.

Strawberry golden ringlets glistening in the moonlight.

Green eyes gleaming that of a flightless sprite.

“I’m sorry”, says she.

A long embrace laden with the scents of Grey Goose and ciggies.

“Cuppa tea?”  Says I while searching for a cup in the esoteric parallels of the cupboards..

“You and your teas”, says she, laughingly, while digging around in the icebox.

Laughter and tears ensue as the sun awakes the worlds clocks.

….

Morning birds chirp a sunny harmony.

Twilight tea, a good woman, and dumb sod, me.

No Return to Green

Bright and early Sunday morning, I woke up with bloodshot eyes and an endless sneeze.  I tried everything including Eastern White Pine tea to cure the hay fever, but to no avail.  Unfortunately, I missed the festival for the first time in like five years. 

By late Sunday afternoon, the allergies cleared up and I went outside to enjoy the unusually tepid March weather.  I tilled my garden and managed to plant some seeds before dusk. 

I’m going on a trip towards the end of the week to take pictures and enjoy the scenery.  Tune in to see where I go.

return_to_green_flag_holder (by JeffersonDavis)

Return to Green 2009

Many apologies for the lack of post this week.  My family had a bit of a crisis.  Everyone still has their fingers and toes so no worries.  Saturday will be a grand and somewhat green start to a brilliant weekend.

I’ll be at Return to Green distilling a days worth of events into fifty to a hundred memorable photos.  We are supposed to be blessed with a blue sky, bibulous smiles, and a green river.

This wee festival is my hometowns early celebration of Saint Patrick’s Day.

I’ll update the post with a proper description and pictures Saturday evening.

UPDATE:  I made a bit of a mess of things with the dates.  The festival is tomorrow, Sunday, the 8th day of the third month of 2009.  Ooopppssss.   :)

return_to_green_goofy_mutt (by JeffersonDavis)

“American”

Some of you may know that I am planning to leave for Dublin on September 5th.  I have diligently contacted over a dozen potential landlords and roommates over the last few weeks.  In these emails, I’ve honestly stated that I’m an American coming over for three months, possibly longer if all goes well.  Of these almost twenty personal emails, I’ve received zero replies.  So, this morning I started calling them via Skype.  One said that the slot was filled (Strange that it still says available on daft.ie..)and the other said they were looking for long term.  I respect that they want long term, but some do say short term, yet I have not been contacted.

Perhaps it is just my perception, but it’s like I automatically have a strike against me because I’m an “American”.  The American government has done a lot of bad things over the years, but so has Germany, Italy, Spain, Austria, Slovakia, and a number of other EU countries.  Yet, they are given a free pass.  Come on in, they say. 

I’m not asking for a red carpet welcome, just to be judged by my character not where I came from.  I’m not coming to leech off of the Irish Health Care System, nor am I coming to meddle in their business.  I’m hopefully coming because I love Ireland and Irish culture.  And, most importantly, I’m coming for illumination. 

Dublin Tourist

Those that know me, know that I’m a gentleman.  I’ve always thought of myself as a “Human Being”, not an American.  Perhaps this stems from a multi-religious upbringing.  I’m not ashamed of being American, but I’m not a believer in labels.  I absolutely hate labels.  Regardless of whether we like them or not, labels are an intricate part of society today.  We are labeled rich if in a certain tax bracket, poor if in another bracket, stupid if below a certain number on a test, or a genius if above another number. 

I’m not a logical person in the normal sense of the word.  I’m a spiritual person.  I reckon that has to do with going through deaths door more than once and being able to return.  In college, I took all of the regular Algebra, Statistical, and Calculus classes.  I made really good grades, but it really was not my cup of tea.  There are so many things in this world that will never be explained with equations.  We think we are so smart, yet we know so little. 

Back to the subject at hand:

So, yeah, I’m an American, so what? 

I had figured that the easiest thing to do would be getting a place to stay.  I’m not really keen to the idea of sleeping on a bench at Stephen’s Green.  If I don’t find something by the end of this week, my plans will be knocked out of whack. 

Saint Stephen's Green Duckies

So, I’m irritated.

I’m ill.

And, I’m downright pissed.

Excuse me, while I go for a walk to soothe my soul.