Trathnona maith agat

Happy Thanksgiving.  We have so much to be thankful for.  We are having a wonderful time in Ireland.  {We have discovered and photographed bog butter in several museums and villages.}  We have met marvelous people and made some friends we will have forever.

My brother, Dick, and his wife, Suzanne, arrived at 8:15 Wednesday morning.  Later that day we were thankful for that arrival time, as the taxi drivers were protesting the deregulation of the taxi industry and blocked the road into the airport.  (By the way, also on strike that day, again, were the teachers and railroad signalmen.  Trains, teachers and taxis were the buzzwords that day).  Dick and Suzanne slept a bit to recover from their travels and then headed out to see some local sights.  But in their suitcases came Captain Crunch, cranberries, Karo syrup, canned pumpkin, pecans and poultry seasoning,  {Should't that be Keepons and Koultry Ceasoning?} all the items necessary to create the traditional American feast.  (No, I did not make my stuffing with Captain Crunch.  That was just the drug I needed to get me through the day.)

Thursday, I went first thing in the morning to get my turkey.  The previous Friday, I had begun my shopping and the only turkey I could find was a 12 pound frozen turkey,  not nearly big enough for the anticipated guest list {never mind the people on the list}.  So I ordered a fresh turkey.  Part of the problem is that our refrigerator is a small, under-counter model.  How do you defrost a 21-pound frozen turkey and keep the rest of your weekly food-stuffs cold?  So I had to just order a fresh turkey and hope that when I arrived at 9 a.m. on Thursday morning that a) the turkey would actually be there, b) it would be fresh and not frozen! and c) it would fit in my oven.  These worries actually provided more than a few sleepless hours to me over Thanksgiving week, but all my worries were for naught.

I see some of you out there asking how can one buy a 21 pound turkey at 9 a.m. on Thanksgiving and expect it to be ready for dinner?  {I see others of you out there asking, "When's the game start?"} Well, we are in a country that works on the 4th Thursday of November, so one cannot plan to eat before 6:30 at night.  On the other hand, the supermarkets are all open for all your last minute Thanksgiving needs.  I was the only one in Limerick with any last minute Thanksgiving needs, of course.

Our guests arrived and we had a wonderful time.   Suzanne called her mother to wish her a happy Thanksgiving, and when Dorothy heard we had actual Irish people in the house, she just had to talk to one, so Jerry O'Keefe, not just an Irishman, but one from Cork! graciously obliged.

I was again thankful for our wonderful friends, especially my friend Maura who lent us silverware (she says cutlery), pot-holders (ditto hotpads), carving knives, covered dishes, a mixer, chairs and paint cans and shoeboxes. (For those not familiar with the uses of the last items in entertaining, watch The Christopher Lowell Show on the Discovery Channel.  They are an absolute necessity in every hostesses prop closet.)  {For those of you who do not watch decorating shows on religious grounds, I will explain so that you can remain pure.  I expect that the cutlery, hotpads, and covered dishes are not troublesome for you; you can imagine their utility in the preparation of food.  It's probably the paint cans, the mixer, the chairs, and the shoeboxes that have you frightened.  I assure you that while these sorts of implements may not yet have found widespread acceptance in the typical US kitchen, in Irish cuisine and in the entertainment melange, if I may use that term, they are indispensable.  Here's why:  The Irish are a more colorful people than are Americans.  They can't help it, they just are.  In an effort to make newcomers feel welcome, they paint all kinds of things.  It is traditional, for example, to paint the shoes of guests whilst they are visiting your home.  Generally, the children are set to this task while the Baileys is being hoisted near the warmth of the fire.  As guests leave, they are handed their newly painted shoes in shoeboxes covered in heather and castoff sheep's wool.  In recent times, as the heather grows scarce on the hills, people have turned to synthetics such as artfully shredded paper (never plastic) grocery bags but that need not concern us here.  As to the chairs and the mixer, the answer is quite simple and follows from the same logic.  Although, sadly, the custom is disappearing today, it is usual for the Irish (and this custom is still followed in the Gaeltach regions) to redecorate the kitchen prior to the preparation of a significant feast.  Normally this is done by jamming a broken off ball point pen into the little slot n a Cuisinart so as to enable it to run even when the top of the mixing bowl has been removed.  Make sure that the chopping blade is firmly seated.  Next, set the speed control to "whip" and set the machine to running.  Generally the first color used in a traditional Irish kitchen will be green.  You can get an even pattern on the walls and ceiling by holding the machine at arm's length while walking around the room.  (You'll need a trusted and knowledgeable partner to pour the paint while you aim the machine.)   Other colors are then added until the desired effect is achieved.  The chairs, of course are for getting up into those hard to reach corners and under the cabinets.}

It was so fun to share the holiday with our friends.  I think every Thanksgiving we celebrate from now on will bring back memories of our wonderful feast here, and I would like to think that our Irish friends might note a special day on their calendars as they approach the end of November.  I did have one funny story.  As I was at the store early in the week, I ran into a fellow member from the parent board at school.  When I mentioned I was getting ready to have 17 guests for Thanksgiving dinner, she asked if I was going to cater it myself.  I can't think of who she imagined I might hire in Limerick to cook a traditional American Thanksgiving, but, at the end of the day I managed to pull it off without aid of an Irish caterer.  (Speaking of that phrase, "at the end of the day", at the end of some day here in Ireland, count up how many times you heard it.  You may need a calculator!)

Friday after Thanksgiving, as every good American knows, is the biggest shopping day of the year, and though we are in a foreign country, Suzanne and I did not shirk our duty.  We dragged Dick kicking and screaming to Waterford.  Some of you may have heard something about a little glass company they have there.  We took the factory tour.  Did you know there are eight hours of labor in the average Waterford crystal goblet?  Makes it a little easier to plunk down that charge card, don't it?  We saw the blowers at work and the cutters at work.  Interestingly enough, they are paid by the piece.  If it doesn’t pass quality control, they don't get paid.  Our tour guide showed us a trophy for an English sporting event.  The trophy was probably 3 feet high.  The cutter cut the entire piece, three days of work,  and knicked it at the last.  He only got paid for 2 days that week.  Ouch!  Some of the glass is engraved after the blowing, and cutting, but the engravers get paid by the hour, whether they screw it up or not.  They are the true artistes!

Saturday Dick, Suzanne, Melinda and I headed to Galway.  As we passed through Ennis, the weather was so lovely, I told Dick to hang a left (that's toward Suzanne!!!!! - amazing what driving on the wrong side of the road can do to your sense of direction) toward the coast.   All of you with your Irish maps handy will recognize the detour to the Cliffs of Moher.  When we reached the Cliffs of Moher, however, we were faced with 60 mile an hour winds and sleet!  It doesn't take many minutes or miles in this country for the season to change.  Melinda and I got partway up to O'Brien's Tower, but Suzanne and Dick made it all the way.  Hardy souls, those Texans.

We drove through the Burren next and finally reached Galway about 3:15.  Our energy restored after a bite to eat, we were once again fit for the Charge Card Cha-cha and the Traveler's Check Two-Step.  {We'll be moving on to the Bankruptcy Be-Bop soon.)

As some of you know, I collect teacups.  What would a visit to Ireland be without a souvenir teacup to bring home?  And when Mark's mom visited, I saw just the pattern I wanted at a restaurant in Cahir where we had lunch.  It's by the Royal Tara China company and has a picture of the Tara Brooch on it.  However, they had none for sale.  So we looked all over Dublin when we were there.  No luck.   Dick and Suzanne and I looked all up and down the main shopping street in Galway.  Still no luck.  (Had I known it would be this difficult, I would have pocketed my dirty teacup from the restaurant in Cahir!)  Well, it just so happens that the Royal Tara China factory is in Galway of all places.  Now, at 5:45 p.m. on Saturday evening, the factory is closed.  But not the showroom!  They stay open til 9 p.m. for all your Christmas shopping needs.  And they had my cup!  You're all invited for tea when I get back to Seattle.  But remember, if you break the cup, you'll be making a little trip to Galway to replace it.

OK.  So Dick and Suzanne got a little ruin (Rock of Cashel), a castle (Cahir), both on Thursday before an Irish Thanksgiving, a crystal factory tour, a bit of weather (Moher), and a bit of shopping (Galway).   Dick is in the background screaming "What do you mean, 'A bit?!!!!!!"  What they needed was a serious bit of scenery.  Well the weather cooperated today and we headed down to the Dingle Peninsula.  You may recall, on our last trip to Dingle we hit the clouds halfway up the Conor Pass.  Today, while not entirely clear, had some wonderful, and timely, sunbreaks.  We were clear all the way over the pass and had a fabulous view from the top of the pass, of Tralee Bay to the north and Dingle Harbor to the south.   It was still clear when we reached Dingle, so we decided to delay lunch and make our way out along the coast road.  It rained a bit as we rounded Slea Head, but cleared 5 minutes later to allow us an excursion to one of the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen.  (The local signs indicated it was a filming location for the movie, "Ryan's Daughter.")  We got back in the car and not 10 minutes later it was again raining and blowing.  But we found a nice place for lunch and waited out the weather.  We stopped at the Gallarus Oratory, and then headed home.

Dick and Suzanne are bound for Dublin on the train tomorrow.  It will be nice for Dick to get out from behind the steering wheel and actually get to see some scenery!  And we are back to our work-a-day world.  Well, every one except me, of course, who gets to continue to play my way through this wonderful sabbatical.   I'm going to paint a sheep tomorrow!  Not an actual sheep.  Just a picture of a sheep.  Although get me a few cans of that sheep spray paint and I could have a lot of fun!

Hope you all had as wonderful a Thanksgiving as we did.  That's my tuppenceworth for this e-mail.  Isn't that the greatest word?!  I heard a politico use it on a radio talk show recently and I decided I must incorporate that word into my vocabulary!  Tuppenceworth.  Study all my e-mails and you, too, can learn Irish the Mary Roddy way, just as Kazuhiro Sasaki learns English the Dave Niehaus way.  My oh my!

Slan,

Mary {and Mark}