out of ireland have we come

I could blame it on the weather, or on the fact that the world now expects to be a proper adult, but I've been watching one comfort movie after the other lately & it feels good. All those corny & completely clichéd movies (Notting Hill, Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood etc. etc.) are pumpkin soup with buttered toast to my soul. 

Anyway, a day late and a dollar short, here's a little somethin' somethin' in celebration of St. Paddy's Day.

I'd wax poetic about the beauty of the country, but why don't I let Ireland speak for itself.

Leap Year

P.S. I Love You

"In Ireland, you go to someone's house, and she asks you if you want a cup of tea. You say no, thank you, you're really just fine. She asks if you're sure. You say of course you're sure, really, you don't need a thing. Except they pronounce it ting. You don't need a ting. Well, she says then, I was going to get myself some anyway, so it would be no trouble. Ah, you say, well, if you were going to get yourself some, I wouldn't mind a spot of tea, at that, so long as it's no trouble and I can give you a hand in the kitchen. Then you go through the whole thing all over again until you both end up in the kitchen drinking tea and chatting.

In America, someone asks you if you want a cup of tea, you say no, and then you don't get any damned tea.

I liked the Irish way better."

— C.E. Murphy (Urban Shaman (Walker Papers, #1))