Happy new year, happy new life...a note on saving dough

"I like money. I'd like to have more of it. I keep it in a jar on top of my refrigerator."

Mad props to you if you can quote which beloved movie the above sentences are from. But in all seriousness, last New Year's I made a promise to myself: that every January I would do something a little more fiscally responsible than opening a GAP charge card to save 15 percent on that really cool sweater.

Anywho, I digress into a more serious note on investing. Now, I'm no Diamond Jim Brady, but, I do believe in the power of time. And the power of being disciplined with saving as much money as you can based upon your income. (Seriously even if it's just $20 a month.)

Last year in January I opened up an ING account. (Which, by the way I highly recommend to anyone and everyone who is looking to make the same "cents" when it comes to savings...the interest rate is so appealing, why wouldn't you have one?)
Over the course of the last 11 and a half months, I have been cultivated (and sometimes taking from) my account here and there, and I must say that while catching a great sale makes me smile, taking a look monthly at my interest paid (literally free money--or at least the closest thing to it) is even cooler.

The coolest thing (in my opinion anyway) about my online savings account is that money is there if I really do need a bit of a safety net, but just inaccessible enough that I'm not tempted to dig into it all of the time.

So my big fiscal decision for '08? As I sit here on Dec 28 I'm still not sure. Perhaps a Roth IRA, (never too young to start!) but probably on the for-front of my priorities is to find a job with a higher income. In a city that could be described as "the seat of the western world." Those who know me know what I'm talking about. Those who don't, well f$%& off.

Just kidding. Happy New Year!

gnocchi doesn't opt for plastic bags, so neither should you!

Alright, so the title has nothing to do with the actual content of this post. But, in my recent obsession with all foods of the Italian decent, (and bazaar-o pronunciations)I decided it would be fun.

In light of keeping with the character of my third-to-last blog entry (the ranting one about the end of civilization as we know it) I have been proud to say that I have been plastic bag free for one week precisely.

And how, do you wonder, have I been able to achieve such a feat? By simply taking a canvas bag to do some grocery shopping (paper is cool sometimes too, I don't know if what degree of earth-pilaging goes into creating one, but I know that they are far more bio-degradable than plastics) and re-using small plastic sandwich baggies.

I'm convinced that being more earth friendly is like how you would look to get into shape--by taking the stairs instead of the elevator, by parking further and walking, or by opting for the apple instead of the fast-food apple pie.
I guess MTV was really hitting their mark dead on when they came up with the PSA "Decrease your daily impact, improve your life" campaign.

oops

I meant to say in that last post that it IS cool to be asked questions.


Sorry. Either I have grown far too accustomed to the copy editor's extra pair of eyes, of I'm just le tired.

Adios

and how does that make you feel...

So in light of recent events, (which shall not be mentioned on this public forum for sake of protecting everyone's privacy) I'm seriously convinced that I should have become a psychology major. Laura, if you read this, then yay for you, you're on a life track that is incredibly valuable in our ever-increasing emotionally screwed up society.

But, it's not all negativity (far from it actually!) because this makes me feel incredibly happy that my friends (let's not forget co-workers) come to me for sage advice. Which I start by saying "Young grasshopper" in my best sage-elderly Japanese mastery voice. Just kidding.

So yeah, suffice it to say that being asked questions (when normally I'm the one doing the asking) isn't groovy with me. And I think it comes full circle right about here because I'm telling the all the blogsphere the way I'm feeling about people asking me to talk them throught certain emotions to get to how they're ultimately feeling....crazy ain't it?

Alright, enough of the psycho-bable bullshit, I'm buying a plane ticket to California in 5, 4, 3, 2, .........

well, ok

I think I may have been a little too harsh with last night's feverish and emotional post. But hey, sometimes you gotta just capitalize on the creativity that springs from anger, passion, happiness.
I still need to get out of suburbia.
That is all.

catastrophic calamity, world wars, or just too much red bull?

Okay so. I promised myself when I first created this blog that I wouldn't use it as a soapbox for means of proto-typical non-conformist policital purposes, but I think that having my own blog, by right, enables me to break this guideline.
So here goes.
Tonight, I went to cover an environmental commission meeting for one of the towns that I cover. The meeting was actually going to be a viewing of the documentary "The End of Suburbia: the demise of oil and the collapse of the American dream" by Jeffrey Greene, followed by a discussion. YAY. As I headed into the community center where the film was to take place, I first made a quick detour to the store to grab a sans-sugar Red Bull. I wasn't quite sure how engaging this was going to be, and after a deadline day at the office ridden with last minute state Supreme Court decisions (turned into an article in record time I'll have you know) I wasn't about to be messin.'

So into the community center I head. Mystified all the while by the television-less end of the room that lay beforth us. (I
seriously sat there for like 5 minutes trying to figure out where we were going to watch the movie without a television until I saw the projector sitting on a desk in front of the blank, white wall.)

But I digress, and the documentary started. And from the moment that it did, I was transfixed. In case you couldn't guess, the basic premise was pretty much about the end of life as we know it, (because we are so deeply and horribly addicted to oil and natural gas, and the likes) and what that's going to mean for life as we know it in the future.
And let me tell you, I really think that viewing this documentary could make a pessimist out of the most optomisitic of the glass-half-full people out there. And with just cause. This is seriously alarming. I mean, pretty much in 20, hell, 15, hell maybe even 10 years life as we know it will not be the same.

The film asked the average consumer to imagine a day when the mass suburbs of America become slums-and there is massive regression of the human race. The film projected that there will be such massive regression that it is not your choice to do so, but this is rather dependent on our survival.
Which, within itself is a very interesting thought. We, as 21st-century humans really don't have a good grasp on what survival entails, which is quite frightening to me. I'll admit, if I couldn't get into my car (okay, or get on my bicycle) and go to the local supermarket in the middle of the winter in Central NJ I wouldn't know how to get food. Think about that for a second: what if the commodity chain was virtually haulted to a stop indefinetly? Think of the competition, the violence, the scramble that would ensue over a quart of milk or a loaf of bread? Scary to think. Even scarier to think that that may be something that I will have to worry about over the next 50 years of my life. What's even worse is that at this point, my parents, pretty much the entire Baby-Boomer generation that basically has feed off of this suburbia model all of their lives stand to lose alot-if not all of the capital that have worked so hard for all of their lives for, and perhaps too feable to acquiesce.

What really worries me the most over this whole thought of the end of suburbia (not that I was really enjoying all that much to begin with-though my current economic state doesn't really permit me to live in a city on my own--but I am working very hard to change that situation shortly) is that people-myself included-like to believe that there is no immediate problem. Or that if there is, there is a highly-organized team of professionals with doctorate degrees toiling away in some laboratory somewhere combating the problem while I comfortably sleep each night. Or that people of an older generation actually DO realize the calamity-and that my generation is too busy being obsessed with what kind of sleek and sexy gadget Apple is spitting out to really grasp the issue at hand. (And I am one of these people too!!!)

One thing was crystal clear after viewing this documentary tonight: that being dramatic and deploying desperate attempts such as shocking the American public with information that makes them uncomfortable is, in my opinion, necessary.
I know that it's currently trendy to be "green," but I think that this mass-distribution of ideas needs to expodentially increase with a depth that undercuts the current constant desire for what's bigger, shinier, and faster.
It's weird because growing up I'd heard people say to me that they wanted to move out of the United States when they grew old enough, and that they couldn't be associated with a system that just seems to be built on a retro-fantasy of post WWII utopia.
I wish I could say that Canada, hell, even Europe has the answer, but unfortunatley, I don't think it's that simple.....

So am I totally hating on America, or our economy, or in going to the mall on Saturday afternoons? Certainly not. I happen to love New Jersey, (okay you out-of-staters, hold your jokes) this area of the country is where I live and where my loved ones live. I happen to stimulate the economy alot, (once again, slow your roll on the jokes here too please) whether it be shopping locally or going to a chain store. I also agree with the documentary that with times of great stress comes great inguinuity. Maybe we'll get through the peak and fall of fossil fuels just fine.

What I do know for sure is that this documentary has inspired me to want to be, myself, faster, stronger, and more educated about not misleading ourselves to negligent means to an end. To keep one eye fixated ahead on the future, while being mindful of what you're doing right this second to conserve and protect. And to involve others in simple local inniciatives to develop a stronger local economy, and most of all to foster a healthy social environment that I feel we are in DESPERATE need of in America.

And what now know with absolute certainty?
I am moving out of the suburbs as soon as I possibly can.

LAST walking tour day!!!

So we started out the last walking tour day with a little round-about excusion around to the other side of the bay that we had spent the previous night on.
The last day was alot of road walking, which I'm not going to lie, was okay with me. Although, we did get very efficient at our "CAR!" chant which would send us marching like soilders single file along side of the road every few minutes.

Sometime around lunch we decided that we would stop for a quick "map check" stop which turned into a very impromptu lunch that Pam, Kyle, Tim, Sarah and I shared, which I may add was very enjoyable.

Back on the road again, we talked of many things. Often times mundane, the conversation would turn to a gossip session, which would morph into a debate, which would yield to varying degrees of heavier topics. Honestly, the content of the conversations wasn't really what mattered. I mean, we could have been talking about beef jerky for pete's sake.
(Okay, editoral note: I'm just warning you, I'm going to get sappy for a second.)

Walking with these people that (for some of them have been my friends since freshman year of college) it gave me a very strong, positive feeling. This little jaunt that we went on wasn't for the light hearted. It wasn't for the pampered. It was for people who are into creating their own, positive and active experiences with one another, all while taking in the breathtaking scenery that Ireland had to offer. It was such a feeling of total acceptance, (and yes, after a week of being out on the road and peeing in some very bazaar places may have fostered all of the bonding) and knowing that this was something that we will truely remember for the rest of our lives.

Okay, so no more cheese. But as we climbed that last ascent that we had climbed the very first night (to go down to take a peek at Tralee Bay) and as the pub loomed closer and closer, I knew one thing for sure....that there was a Bulmers (possible with a shot of Jameson?) with my name on it inside.

As I retired to the bedroom of the Finglas House Bed and Breakfast, (the one that we had stayed in a week prior when we began the tour, I had a dream of Dublin in my mind, and a taste of the whiskey from our victory shot on my breath.....

Cloghane, if i'm spelling that right

So we just got to Cloghane and all I can say is cool deal. Although I think today we traversed the most ground, in terms of ascent and all that, (I believe it was 2,450 feet) and had a fairly memorable decent, which was the probably the coolest thing I've done in the last 10 years of my life.

There we were, staring down at a mountain's clevage getting a serious high from the feeling of climbing the thing when we soon realized, (after a few steps down) that this was going to be a bit more tricky than we thought. Aside from the steep steeping down, (let's just say my quadracepts still burn) there was mud, well, not just mud, but bogs. Yes, bogs! A word that quickly entered our venacular via curses, screams, and the occasional call of "I lost my shoe to it!"

But I suppose I should back track a bit. The acsent was a bit slow going at times, but Kevin, the ever patient leader was really cool with helping out Melissa, Pam, Sarah and I (Tim took a really long solo tract and Beth, Jenn and Kyle got a taxi ride to the next village) up the mountain, always offering words of encouragement, and willing to keep up with our pace.

At certain points, the cloud cover was rolling in above us, and it mad a very dense like fog, which made it hard to see a literal 5 feet in front of your face. This looked particularly hardcore if you turned around to see if the person behind you was still with you, and for a second, you couldn't see them. They were lost in the dense, cloud-like fog. I spun around once, to see if Pam heard what I had said, and I couldn't see her. Quickly I turned around again, and Kevin and Melissa had gone too far and were too out of my visibility.

When we reached the top peak, we were in awe the view (see aformentioned mountain clevage) and went right ahead on down with our descent.

After we got to sealevel, (or something like that) we still had a bit of ground to travel over. But that was all good, as now the sun was out, and it was pretty warm. We rolled into Cloghane tired and VERY thirsty, muddy (mud literally was sloshing in my hiking boots for the last 5 miles) and dehydrated (okay I may have been a little confused when the owner of our B&B asked me a simple question,) but satisfied.

Although, I have to say...I did feel a perceptive shift in everyone's attitude that night at dinner. Everyone's nerves seemed to be a bit shorter, and little jokes weren't as quickly met with a laugh, and more often an exasperated expletative. (Okay we weren't totally hating on one another, but still) It was apparent that the proximity that we all had been inhabiting over the past week was getting a little too close for comfort. Now I love all of my friends dearly, (and enjoyed Jenn, Sarah, and Beth) but everyone needs their alone time.
So that night I stayed in, and the B&B we stayed at that night had a really awesome sitting room, were Sarah and I brought one another up to speed on our lives.

Then, it was to bed I head (ed.)

pause on the mountain day

So we paused for a bit for a bit of fruit, cheese, and tublerone on the side of the big-butt mountain that we're about the climb. Kinda cool. All you can see in front of you (well, that is when you crane your neck up) is a diminishing line of posted arrow signs.
See ya at the top

woah there ballydavid

THEY CLOSED THE TOWN BECAUSE THEY RAN OUT OF FOOD??!!!!

Starting to learn some of subtle differences between the sticks of America and the sticks of the Irish countryside. That first sentence is definetely an absoulte that we were not only in a small town, but that after a very rainy hike along the shore (which honestly, I kind of enjoyed) that we were going to have to be crafty getting to a pub of some kind.

Today was the shortest day of our trek, with an estimated 12K down (I think), although the weather did get rainy. Walking along the shoreline in the constant rain was rather enjoyable, actually, and I think that I may do it soon in the states shortly after returning.

And oh, I should probably take this moment to interject taht the town that we are staying in tonight, which is called Ballydavid, is not actually out of food, but according to our (superbly nice) hostess, that's what happenned last week here.

So Pam and I were drying out our skivies, (amoung our sweatshirts, socks and shoes) when our hostess said that the nearest pub was about 4 miles down the road. Now, normally, this wouldn't be a huge deal, (and lord knows the walk back would be much, much easier after a few libiations) but...not necessarily the thing you want to hear on day 5 of a walking trek. You kinda want to just be able to meander a few blocks at most and drink and eat to the heart's content.

Currently, I am sitting in the (very red) sitting room of our bed and breakfast sipping on tea and listening to another guest, talk about how he's been around the world. He told us lively tales of getting in fights in Toronto and stealing formula's and then going to Spain with them. Sounds kinda cool, and I was really digging it until Pam told me to take a shower. Alright.

So our wonderfully super-gracious hostess agreed to drive us to the pub, (and the guys, who were staying in a B&B down the road also did the same) and we joined up for some pub grub and some drinky drinks.

Reader, it is time for me to tell you about the ever-bazaar experience of riding in a car that operates in the exact opposite way that you expect it to. Taking tight turns at like 50km/h....35mph may not seem like an incredible feat, but when it's on the opposite side of your expectations, it's bound to make anyone squirm while rounding a hairpin curve.

PARADISE: VENTRY BEACH

Ahh the water. The very COLD water. Hilarity ensued after some amusing (and I should say very "European") pictures were taken.
And for all you prudes out there, that means that several (male) friends decided to show their respective rear ends to the camera!

After the beach we treked through a laberynth of foliage, and then came across the first vertical choice..either take a shorter route or take a longer path and climb into the clouds of a mountain option.

Melissa, Pam, Sarah, and I all elected to take the shorter route, while the boys and Jenn (yeah Jenn!) decided that no incline would be too great, no climb on-top of a climb would be too steep for them. So, we parted ways, and the former group took a rather gradual incline while the latter group took on a big grade of land.

Now I should insert the scenic asthetics, just so you, the reader, can get a sense of the crazy beauty. First off, we were hiking on the most soft green, green grass, (you know, the emerald color that people living in suburbs spend like $500 a month pumping god-knows what kind of toxic fertilizers to keep up with the Jones') and my was it soft! I would have totally taken off my hiking boots if there had not been tons of shit...literally, sheep shit was everywhere. Oh well....

A glance to the left revealed nothing but miles and miles of sapphire Atlantic waters that were a probably a good quarter mile below us. Seaward, jagged boulders casually lay in the ocean, as though they were pebbles dropped in a dark shallow puddle. (Only you know the water was a wee bit deeper.)
Seriously incredible. Audibly, it all was quiet, and if you were the first person in the single-file line in which we were hiking, you had to strain to hear the person who was (loudly) speaking either directly in front of in back of you.

At one point, we hiked around the half-perimeter of a land mass that can best be described as a crater (and appropriatly so, because Ireland was indeed formed by volcanic activity some millenia ago) and saw a hodge-podge of little stone masses on the side of the hill. According to our tour literature, they were the remains of an (8th?) (7th?) (old as hell?) monk territory that demarked their properties.

I was feeling pretty zen-like when suddenly my allergies decided to flare up. Now, normally I don't necessarily worry too much about a little sneeze here and there, but suddently my nose went from a little sniffle to a full-fledged faucet. Now I know that some of you that know me know that I can talk about my nasal excrements for hours, but I'll spare you the full details-let me just summarize by saying it was BAD. And then, to add insult to injury, my eyes started watering up and itching, and I ran out of water a little too early.

The four of us finally decended a VERY STEEP hill to a road way, and found ourselves coming into a little town of a handful of colorful buildings built into the afformentioned part of the crater we had just hiked down. Ah!! I thought, we must be nearing our lodging, and we pushed on.

Soon though, the little village was sinking smaller behind us, and rather in front was...a road. A rather long road, with not a whole heck of a lot of room to hike on the edge of. So, we pressed on. And according to our tour literature, we had 5K to go. 5k! No biggie! 3.1 miles, cool deal.

Then....we crossed the ocean.
Well, okay, not literally, but this is where my travel journal has a crude drawling of what I can only describe as some sort of tide eddy, (sp?) or something like that. So, we crossed. And then, a hill lie ahead of us. So we followed the little hiking man upwards. (okay, editorial note: I was NOT hallucinating, yet anyway. All along the self-guided tour we took, there were posts every few miles of so, detailing where our next twist or turn was. The symbol was a little hiking man with hiking polls, below an arrow).

Then, we really just kinda bottomed out. I'm not trying to sound dramatic here, but this was by far, in my opinion the most extreme day for moi. Running out of water sucks, being attacked by a 5-hour perpetual allergy attack is worse, but being at the foot of one, final, steep hill just plain old SUCKED at this particular moment. But what are you going to do besides keep going? And that's what we did, until we hiked up the mountain about a mile and realized that we were lost. So we did what any normal hiking caravan would do when lost in another country...we knocked, okay, pounded, alright, seriously prayed with everything left in us that someone would be home to guide us in the right direction back to our bed and breakfast.

A half an hour later I was in the shower, and taking lots and lots of anti-histomines.
We went to dinner.
And then bed.

Getting Prepped for Day 3

Currently we are preparing for Day 3. Slumber came easily last night, which is a good thing, considering my body is like, all "wtf mate? Running 3 miles at a time on flat NJ land did not prepare me for this" but it's all gravy.

Standing first thing in the morning was a bit difficult, but the sun's a shining, so it's apt to be a brillant day. I believe there's an optional mountain bit this morning, but I think our group is pretty much ambivilent right now as to if we're actually going to do that part.

Yours until Donegal...

Top of the morning, Monday

We are about to set out for our second day of walking. Admittedly, we are not as chipper as we were yesterday morning, but that will change shortly after we step out into the morning air.
Slept well last night, although I did awake some time around 4a.m., ready to go, thinking it was already 8a.m. Today we will hike 19K, with our destination being Dingle Village.

Monday, later that day.

Welcome to the harbor town of Dingle. And please, hold your jokes and chuckles. Okay, don't. Haha, yeah, it's kinda funny. But not to this town, apparently it's one of the most populated places we will see along this walking tour.
As we made our final descent into the village, we very happy to see our Bed and Breakfast (up on a hill again.) I don't know about everyone else, but my dogs are barking. We've walked about 19 miles between yesterday and today, (guestimate) and I have blisters the size of my head. Luckily, there's a few pubs within throwing distance.

So a side note, or rather a main note or highlight on the hike today: we went off the beaten path to a steep ascent. When we got to the top, all of both Dingle Bay and the Atlantic was visible. Felt like the kind of the world, post-op anyway, as Kyle noted.

We even took a Ship picture proudly displaying the Maxies t-shirt so it can be mailed to our beloved bartender, Craig.

Many beautiful views were around us today, and it is very interesting to note that from the tops of the hills there are visable divides between properties, that make the landscape look as though it is a patch-work style quilt of differing shades of green.

There have also been alot of dogs that pop up along the road and in the two villages that we have been to. Jesse, the black lab doggie from Annescaul, lead us nearly two miles outside of the town. We finally alluded him by Kevin screaming "JESSE GO HOME!!!!" at the top of his lungs, and the dog took one last longing look at us, and trotted back to meet the next crop of walkers coming into town that evening.

Oh and there were Jack Russells too!! So freaking cute, although all of my friends hate them and call them "footballs." Haters.

Sarah and I shared a fantabulous Bailey Ice Cream for dessert--by far a thing straight from the heavens. After a slow meander through the town, we headed back-not before a halarious trip to the bathroom that consisted of the river runneth through the room. Ugh.

Sarah also told me of a halarious incident in which some woman was trying to buy underware at the grocery. She seemed shocked when she couldn't tell the woman at the counter what she wanted, and looked straight at Sarah and asked her if the clerk spoke English. UM????!!!!! Wow--I really hope she wasn't from the US. No wonder the world hates us-some of us come off damn ignorant.

Tommrrow we're set to do 22K, which is approximately 2 miles more than today. Doesn't sound too bad, although there is a knarly blister on my toe that is fixin to be popped.

irish time is sneaky

A note on how deceptive time in Ireland is...

Been feeling a bit jet-lagged still, and it seriously stays dusky outside until 10:30p.m. How crazy!
Went for dinner at a pub called South Pole in, had a lovely meaty meal for under 10 euro. Salt and vinegar chips rock, as do burgers after a day of hiking.
After dinner we went down to a pub called the "Randy Leprochan," and it may have well be the Wibs of Annescaul. Leave it to us to find bars like that accidently. (For those who don't know, Wibs is a Ship bar that is always choc full of metro-sexuals and crazy ditzy people. It is really expensive, but it's one of those places that you always end up ending up at.)

After drinking the most delicious drink ever (BULMERS) we headed out and went to a smaller pub. Had a Bailey's on the rocks, and ordered an Irish coffee. (which, ps. does NOT have Bailey's in it. A true Irish coffee consists of Jameson, coffee, cream and brown sugar)

So while it's interesting to learn that we indeed do have accents (two words out of our mouths and it's all "where from the states are you all from?") we do try and maintain some decorum, for example NOT ordering a carbomb.

Jen told us that ordering a carbomb in Ireland would be like going to Manhattan and ordering a "flaming tower" at a bar. Touche.

Sunday, after day 1 of hiking

Currently Pam, Melissa and I are sitting in the breakfast area of our bed and breakfast where we will be staying for the night, called the Four Winds. And they weren't lying, the place is up on a (very steep) hill and it certainly is breezy up here.

A side note on temperature: it ranges between 60 degrees and 75 at the highest, and did it feel good when we stepped off that plane in Dublin. Like the fragrant mist of a thousand mini Irish springs hitting my nose--okay back to the Four Winds.

Kevin went down into Annescal (the town we're in tonight) to find the owner, as we are locked out. I guess this is where I reiterate that we had a bit of a climb to get to this accommodation. Now, normally I'm all about the hills, but after the first day of hiking behind us, yeah...

Yay, host just arrived, hot shower is top priority.

Day 1 of hiking, lunchtime

Sitting on the shore of the Atlantic with Melissa and Pam at a picnic table at a cafe. Drinking a Bulmers, which, ps is the best beverage ever (right next to Guinness of course). Tim is currently sitting to the left of me, holding a wool sock next to his shorts exclaiming how he looks like a sheep.

May I just interject that the morning hike was BEAUTIFUL.

We started out with an ascent that really wasn't all that bad-we soon came to a flat part that took us through a gravel road. We were in a valley, and all around us, was green lushness. There was no bad view, I don't care if you were only 3 inches tall. From certain angles we could see the ocean-very small of course, and that is presently where we are. There was no shortage of wildlife, with sheep all around.

The last stretch of the hike before our lunch break was through a moist area of vegetation that featured alot of horse poop. Beth took the inaugural first spill, and on a more halarious note, Kevin and Tim did step right into two large piles. Oh well, I suppose worse things have happenned.

Right in front of me is the Atlantic-visable through two peaks off in the distance. There is a very 1970s-looking van sitting in front of us advertising surf lessons, but I gather the water is a wee bit chilly, since there is an assortment of wet suits hanging outside of the van.

The sand on the beach is def darker than it is on the Jersey shore...perhaps after lunch we will waddle down to the water-until then, we will continue with conversations about our dad's names and how to dry pants.

details, details, etc

Tons of traveling has been going on. I thank god that we are actually walking tommorrow, by now i feel as though I have forgotten how to.
So a few things to note:
1.) I must learn the fine art that is packing light. Or rather, I should invest in some arm weights and start bulking up, because my suitcase is darn heavy.
2.) I can hardly believe my eyes! The country side of Ireland is best described as what a country should be...rolling hills of white clapboard cottage homes. There are no "McMansions" to speak of and I haven't seen so much as one mention of a strip mall. True, we did spot a Burger King in Dublin, but Melissa and I had said aloud that there will be no patronage of chain stores while we are here!
3.) I need to remember to bring my wristwatch. Since not having my cell on (and oh what a sweet, sweet thing that is) I really have been all ADD when it comes to knowing about the time. Not that I really need to be super conscious of the time, as seeing that we are vacation, but hey, it would be cool to know.
4.) Alright, I know that I said I was only going to list a few points, but they are my rules and they're meant to be broken. The young lad that is sitting next to me REAKS of whiskey. Hell yeah!

Trains, Planes and Automobiles

Saturday (still)

Trains, planes, and automobiles is the name of the game right at this second, and it has been for the past two million seconds before this one.

Yikes! I just caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of the glass...my ghastly white parlour indicates it's been quite a while since I've slept, washed up, or even brushed my teeth. Eww.

Pam, Sarah, Beth, Jen, Tim, Kevin, Kyle, Melissa and I can hardly believe that yes, WE ARE IN IRELAND!!!! I think the delerium that I am experiencing from lack of sleep has actually kept me in check from not singing at the top of my lungs on this train!!!!

Then again, I feel as though I could live here my whole life and never get enough of the crazy beautiful scenery.

After Pam and I carefully said we should be sure to be conscious of our hydration levels on the hike (that we're doing the first part of the vaca) Kevin, Kyle, and Tim came walking down the train to tell us they were heading to the dining car to grab a beer.

--And now we are too. Heck, when in Rome!

A note on air travel

Saturday, July 7 2007 2 am est, 7:30 am Dublin time

So for my first plane ride in quite some time, I'd say this one, so far has gone well. Minimal turbulance, decent food and a little vodka to help get me through have also been great.
What I do find objectionable though is the shameless ad plug on the flop down trays, for Verizon "World Phone" no less. I suppose the silver lining is that the picture on the ad is in the Great Pyramids-def on my top 10 list of places to go before 2010.
Definetly before this passport expires, which means that I have exactly 9 years, 10 months and 21 days to do so...

A note on insomnia

Let me set the stage. It's 1:15 A.M. EST and we're (my guess?) flying somewhere over the North Atlantic. The neoproxin (sp?) that my co-worker Cara had given to me is suiting my bruised coccyx just delightfully, and it is also aiding the rest of my body quite nicely.

To the left of me I can see a crazy gradient of color-we are flying into morning. Flying towards light. So wild. People all around are asleep, but I really don't know how they can be, this plane is certainly one of the teeniest I've ever been on--and my seat is not going back AT ALL.
Although I have tried multiple times to get some rest, nothing is really helping me. My only complaint thus far is that they keep playing this inane "Sky Mall" advertisement on the television set that is right above my head, and the constant light makes me want to go insaine in the membrane.

According to Kevin's wrist watch, we have a few more hours until we land.

And reader can I just take this opportunity to exclaim numerous times on how beautiful the sunrise looks from this angle--sensationalistic, true, but it's a great introduction to be what I'm sure will be a fabulous trip.

ireland reflections

To all who know me it may seem as though I am stating the obvious by saying this; but I really get a kick out of archiving things. Pictures, blogs, documents, articles, you name it, I'm all about catalgorizing and organizing so I can look back in 30 years, or heck, even 30 minutes for reflection/laughter/nostalgia purposes.

Soooo, in keeping with tradition (and seeing as though I just bought this shiny little fruit of a laptop yesterday) I decided to post my travel journal from Ireland for all to see. So now, even if you didn't accompany me or the 9 other people who trekked to the land of Guinness and green grassy hills, at least you can now get my written perspective on it.
Hope you all enjoy!

a thought on poligamy (if i'm spelling that right)

So recently, i have been captivated by something: poligamy
****Disclaimer: While I do not necessarily agree that i would want to live my life as a multiple wife, I could definitely see both the positive and negatives of this prodominately western cultural norm.
Oh, and in case you were all wondering, this concept is something that is completely foreign to me, and, therefore a mystery wraped up in an enigma that i would love, Love, LOVE to explore in the quasi-public forum of what is the blog.

Well, before I get too far in, i guess i should explain how i crossed upon this subject. A few nights ago, while watching the tele, i suddenly became facinated by the subject. Now, before all of you who actually know and care out there come in running and screaming and saying that this isn't possible and that it's an abomination to religion/society/social mores of the 21st century hold on a second...I have some questions to pose to you.
Aren't men hardwired to mate with as many women as possible to "spread their seed" and reproductively produce as many possible offspring out into the world? So therefore, from a biological stand point, this kind of lifestyle has itself an old-as-time arguement.
But, as i understand, this lifestyle is predominant in the Mormon sect. Now, without being a novice on Mormon history, I have to wonder, was this the result of when the Mormons were forced out of the mid-west, did more women go than men? Is this why the whole, "1 man to every 4 women" thing started out?
I guess i'll have to read up on the subject to fully understand.


On a completely un-related tangent, i personally believe that if men want to engage in poligamy, than woman should without question, hold that same ticket. I mean hell, in the age of $#%^ buddies and all, dude. I would totally have 5 husbands.
And for all you mathmaticians out there, that means 5 diamond rings.
Well, maybe.

hoookay so...

Following the footsteps of a fellow staff writer at Packet Publications, I have decided to ever-so-gently to dip my big toe into the world that is online blogging.
Just like Rebecca noted, I have a fun time just saying the word "blog" (which backwards is 'golb"- and I think that sounds just as equally unappealing). Stay posted!

stefania