Bonjour et Au Revoir!

As I rolled up my skinny jeans and shoved them to the bottom of my camping backpack for our trip to Paris, I was suddenly struck by that prickly feeling they call excitement. I was just as excited to add another awesome stamp to my passport as I was to see the Eiffel Tower! And eat real croissants! And meander the romantic streets that so inspired the likes of Van Gogh! It was the night before our 4am flight, and I was finally allowing myself to get keyed up for our 3rd Anniversary weekend away.

But look up "excited" in a thesaurus, and you will simultaneously find "upset". Because as we know, there's good stress and bad stress, but it's all stress. I knew we were in for a memory of a lifetime, but I was getting nervous about the small stuff. Will the metros be as scary as the ones in New York? Can we get by on 6 phrases of French? Will everyone recognize us as Americans, and immediately pull out their angry eyes? Happily, 99% of the French stereotypes we found to be unjustified. People were very polite when we were polite to them, we spoke some French and they spoke some English, and we didn't feel unsafe anywhere. The 1% truth, that may as well be the 200% truth, was that the food was awesome!

After living in California, the fruit basket of America, living in Ireland has been something of an adjustment when it comes to buying fresh produce. It's just not readily available like we're used to. You have to trek out to random streets on the weekends to find good cheese, or a bag of tender baby greens. Pineapples and artichokes are a rare sight. People tell me that you have to know where to go. Well it's a sad world to me, in which grocery stores don't sell avocados year-round. BUT in France, I found figs forever, gallons of grapes, and lovely lettuces, on all the streets of Montmartre. And I fell in totally in love with that enchanting village-city. Montmartre was the dreamy older sister slowly morphing into a relic of existence, locked in a time capsule of yellow tree-lined streets and sleepy corner bistros glowing from within; not quite the sinful lady she started life as, mellowed with age. In contrast, Paris was the spicy hip sibling gushing with energy and zest, ready to swallow up her eager, camera-strapped visitors; boasting her venerable beauty like a child.

Far from my initial fears about this wonderful place, France was incredible. It turned out to be a place that we now hope to re-visit someday. It was the perfect date: extravagantly alluring, shining vistas galore, and everything bewitchingly candle-lit. Definitely an experience we'll remember for the rest of our lives.

Surfing in Ireland

When our friends Jordan & Sarah first told us about it, we thought it was a crazy idea. Allow total random persons into our home? For multiple days? AND give them a key? Are you nuts? Our friends told us there was nothing to worry about when participating in Couch Surfing, and that the people you meet are always really awesome. To be truthful, in my mind the best case scenario was a weird smelly traveler who would be hard to communicate with, and who would eat all our food and be loud and make our neighbors hate us. Worst case scenario was that they would kill us in our sleep.

But we have such a great location for tourists, and an entire room and bed to spare, so we couldn't not share. We also both truly enjoy having friends and family in our home. So we went for it. As I was filling out our profile on the Couch Surfing website, I tried to think what people would think of us by reading it. Theres a lot to answer! They ask you about everything from weekend hobbies to favorite things. Because who doesnt like to read about a total stranger's addiction to Colgate toothpaste? BROMG I use Colgate too! ilubesties4eva!!1

Anyway. My profile was updated (aka - novel completed), and my couch icon was set to 'Available'. We were ready to set out on an untried trail. Five minutes later, my 'Couch Request' inbox had 5 requests. An hour later, I had 3 more. The next day I woke up to 4 more bolded mails. I was suddenly drowning. I was trying to figure out everyone's requested dates and arrival times to see if they worked with our upcoming schedules, and having to read EVERY surfer's complete (or not so complete) profile, looking out for signs of crazy. I turned my couch icon to 'Coffee & a Drink' which is a polite way of saying, 'dont ask to stay with me and I will also ignore your emails'. Not really, it just seemed nicer to have an image of a coffee cup, rather than a big X, on my profile. So after sifting through every request, we had to deny some, but accepted a few others. We replied back and made plans. It was happening.

A week later, our very first Surfers were taxiing on the runway! I straightened the duvet one last time, and before I knew it they were texting us from right outside. They were a very nice young couple from Germany, over here for a 10-day trip starting in Dublin with us. It was both their first time Couch Surfing, and our first time hosting. They even showed up bearing gifts: two (freshly imported) German beers, and their favorite German salami are cooling in my fridge as I write! We took them to Porterhouse for dinner one night, which is one of the only two pubs me and Jon have actually been to. We ended up having a lot in common, and they were so polite and courteous the whole time, it was great talking with them and sharing stories. It was not a thing like my previous scenarios at all. It went so well, we are now actually very excited to host again! Because our friends Jordan & Sarah were right about this whole Couch Surfing thing. The people are awesome!

Domestic-er and Domestic-er

Its a common conversational question: "And what do YOU do?" Ive been asked this question when meeting people in our apartment building, while at lunch with new friends from church, and while at a work event with Jon's associates. What people really mean by that question varies with every asker. They mean: What do you do? What fills your days? What gets you up in the morning? What kind of person are you? Will we get along? How do you fit in to our social social-economical surroundings? But most commonly, they just want to know what my job is. You should see their faces when I smile and tell them Im a housewife.

They sometimes laugh and make a "kept-woman" joke. Both men and women, who are otherwise unsure of how to respond, say this. I laugh along tell them its the good life, but inside Im usually pretty unsure how to take it, as the dictionary defines a "kept-woman" as "someone who does not work and who is given money and a place to live by the person who they are having an intimate relationship with". While this is technically true, I resent the implied uselessness in reference to me and my position in the household. I know they only mean to break the ice, but to me it is a reminder of how little society in general thinks of the housewife anymore. If you are a woman who would like to stay at home to cook dinner and raise children, rather than put on a suit and work in a traditional business company, you are somehow less of a person.

But forget Mars, EARTH needs Moms. I want my kids to grow up with homemade bread (my new obsession). I want to be the one who welcomes them into the house after school. I want Jon to walk in the house after work, and be comfortable relaxing in a well-kept roost. I want to be that crazy mom on the block who has the time to bake (and fully decorate!) 100 cupcakes for the party. I dont want to be too tired in the evening to spend time making a healthy meal. At night I want to have enough energy to read and cuddle with them. I want to spend my day making sure the house my family lives in is clean, safe, and beautiful. If this all makes me less than useful to society, society can suck it. Now you'll have to excuse me, I have some fresh peaches that need to be made into jam for our breakfast tomorrow.

Story Time

Once there lived an Irish giant. He was the biggest giant that ever lived, and he loved nothing more than to have a good fight now and again to prove his skill and prowess in combat. One day, word comes to him of a Scottish Giant who lives across the water. The Irish Giant thinks that no man could possibly be bigger or stronger than he is, and decides he must fight this other giant to prove it. So he shouts across the water to this other giant, challenging him to a fight. But the Scottish Giant thinks HE is the biggest and strongest man in the world, and this other giant in Ireland isnt worth his time. So every day the Irish Giant bellows challenges across the sea to the Scottish Giant, who every day refuses.

Day by day, the Irish Giant gets angrier and angrier, and finally he thinks up a plan to fight this Scottish Giant once and for all. He decides to build a bridge from Ireland to Scotlad, and hunt down this other giant and beat him in a fight. Every day, his bridge gets closer and closer, and he gets more and more ready for the coming fight. The Scottish Giant sees this bridge being built, and finally agrees to meet and have it out, and starts to make his way across the bridge. The Irish Giant, having never before seen this enemy with his own eyes, sees the other man coming out of the mist over the bridge. His eyes grow wide with fear, for the Scottish Giant is far greater in size that himself. He sees his rival's great arms and huge legs, and knows he will never be able to best him in a duel.

The Irish Giant runs back to his house as quickly as he can. "Wife, Wife!" he shouts. "Help me, Wife!" She sees how scared her poor husband is, and how huge the Scottish Giant is coming over the bridge. She tells him not to worry. She has a plan. She dresses her giant husband up like a giant baby, and puts him in a giant crib in the house by the fire. She tells him to just sit, and not make a sound.

The Scottish Giant storms over the bridge and comes to Ireland, ready for a fight. He is met by the Irish wife. Towering over her he bellows, "Where is this giant fellow Im supposed to fight?" The wife keeps her cool, and says, "Hes out with the sheep, but Im sure he will be back any minute now. Wont you have some tea and wait?" He agrees, and comes into the house with her. While she gets the tea ready, he sits and looks about the room. In the corner by the hearth he sees there a giant crib, and in this crib he sees a giant baby. He gets to thinking that if this Irish Giant's BABY is this huge and ugly, he doesnt want to stick around and meet the FATHER in a fight! Before the wife can bring out the tea, he makes up an excuse and high-tails it out of that house. He ran back across the bridge to Scotland, tearing out the bridge behind him so the Irish giant could never follow.

And now you know the REAL history of how the Giant's Causeway came to be. Some people will tell you something about lava heating and cooling over a period of time, and geological formations, but thats obviously utter nonsense.

My Favorite Time of the Year is not Christmas

 Just kidding, of COURSE Christmas is my favorite! My SECOND favorite is September 6th, our anniversary.

On our very first anniversary, I wanted to do something really special and our of the ordinary for us. So I surprised Jon with a giant road trip that spanned the Californian coastline, from Trinidad to San Fransisco. I had it all planned out, from the maps and directions to/from every stop, to having a hotel booked for every town we landed in at night, in advance. We spent four days in a two-seater convertible, with our two small dogs on our laps, and sometimes at our feet. We slept in smelly, shady, (but dog-friendly!) Motel 6s every night. We survived out of a tiny blue cooler shoved behind my seat, and ate the cheese, crackers, and salami that we had bought the morning we left. It lasted nearly the entire trip! We saw 14 Northern Californian lighthouses (in various working order), 3 small-town museums, 2 Blue Whales from a boat in Monterey Bay, and drove through 1 Giant Sequoia tree. Among countless other weird and crazy adventures, including stumbling upon a road-side Spanish-only circus.

CLICK HERE to see more pictures from the lighthouse trip!

We planned out second anniversary together. Our Lighthouse trip was so fun, we wanted to do it again, but this time see the Southern half. Well, the further south in California you go, the more populated it becomes. Long story short, there arent enough lighthouses in working order to make it road-trip worthy for us. So back to the Northern we went! We drove through countless adorable small towns the previous year, but one stole both of our hearts: Ferndale. Imagine driving for hours on a heavily wooded 2-lane highway. You drive up and up and up! Youre the only car on the road, and its quiet. Its foggy, and the air that whips your hair in the open-top car smells like the sea. The car turns a corner, and suddenly you are transported back in time to the Victorian era, and the building that loom from the clouds are statuesque. Youve made it to Ferndale! We stayed in the Shaw House B&B for a glorious four days! The town is so small and quaint, not one place is open past 4pm and the only shower in your room is a claw-foot tub. It was magical. Oh! And Ferndale is on the Lost Coast, so we managed to see one last lighthouse.

CLICK HERE to see more pictures from the Ferndale trip!

For us, every anniversary is really special, and we love to celebrate our lives together, in a way that is meaningful to us both. We want to spend our lives creating stories and memories that we will never forget. So because our third anniversary is coming up this September 6th, we started to think about how we wanted to celebrate. We are in a pretty cool country already, and could easily spend it here, and could legitimately stay in arguably the coolest B&B ever (its in a real castle, no joke). But nah. We're going to Paris, baby!

This May Offend Pet-Haters

I have always thought people who do not own animals by choice are weird. How could you NOT want something fluffy and cute (or even scaled and sleek) to call your own? Another life form to take care of, dote on, and cuddle with? A little pile of fur that bounces up and down whenever they see you walk in the door? And by the way, husbands just dont count; mines not much of a bouncer anyway. I tend to think that people who have the ability, room, and time to have even a small animal, and STILL choose to stay pet-less, are often people I dont really get along with. They're generally very tidy and (dare I say) neurotic. They are the white couch lovers, the no-shoes-allowed rulers, the dry-clean-only buyers.

And now Im worried Im one of them, by way of a pet-hating landlord. I bet his wife only buys Organic lettuce, too. The all-white dinnerware and Crate & Barrel color scheme should have tipped me off. When I found out I couldnt have so much as a hamster, it made me want to install carpet over the sterile wood floors, just so I could spill something on it.

But Im starting to like the way the square white plates make even a PB&J look like a work of art. Im beginning to love the simple black fireplace (electric of course, no soot here thanks) against the sand-colored walls. I am actually having a hard time deciding whether or not to hang a piece of art I bought in the living room, because it wont really match. I do my dishes like, as soon as I dirty them, because who wants a dirty dish in an otherwise clutter-free kitchen space? I sweep the hardwood daily, sometimes twice. I do laundry almost as much. Its a hairless, petless, LOVELESS apartment. Not even the candles Jon got for me make it much warmer. They're white.

To help stave off the neurosis creeping up on me, Ive volunteered my time at the Dublin SPCA. Im really excited to get some much-needed cuddle time in with some cute little hairballs! Dog, cat, goat, Ill take anything non-human at this point. I hope they email me back before I feel the need to cover the couch in plastic!

Maybe I Can Get Some Illegal Ones...

Happy Fourth of July, people of the USofA!
I think The Fourth is about as American as it gets. Just the words bring to mind tanning on the blanket-strewn grass, smelling the clouds of sweet smoke from the pit, and floating in the algae-green lake till fingers are prunes. Women in bright dresses, getting reverse-raccoon suntan lines from wearing huge glasses all day. Some men wearing far too little. All in the name of their patriotic love of country, and Doritos.

While it isnt raining where I am, its not exactly a hot summer either. Nobody's in a sundress, and I dont know anyone who owns a barbeque. I thought about having a big American BBQ here for all my friends, to give them a good taste of what our great holiday is all about! Then I remembered I dont have friends within a BBQ-sharing distance. Sad. Then my Mom asked me where Id put a barbeque even if I did have one. Out of my pure American Spirit and American-like unwillingness to back down when faced with a challenge, I told her Id balance it on the windowsill, since its the closest Ive got to a porch. I havent spotted a smoke detector in my apartment, so I wouldnt have to worry about setting one of those pesky things off either. Perfect!

Not so much, actually. I dont want to be responsible for a fiery mass of red-hot coals falling from under my grilling tongs onto some poor random stranger's bike. Or face. Glorious, big, street-facing window Setback #5: Witnesses. HOWEVER, my good American friends, I WILL be serving the all-American Fourth of July favorite, hamburgers! They'll be broiled (not grilled), on toast (not buns), with sauteed potatoes (not fries) and apples (not watermelon), but they will be burgers, darnit, and they'll be great! SO great in fact, that I plan on making them for everyone I know here! So the job'll be easy, Ill set the table for two.

Enjoy your firework show, ya jerks!