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bless the storytellers


He arrives next Friday. That is 9…count them…nine, more days! My. Heart. May. Burst. Spending the money to visit me here in Texas only a month before my departure seemed silly when he purchased the ticket, but now…. Now, things are different!

I had a Spanish exam tonight and to reward myself for hard work on those reflexive verbs, am sipping some lovely Portuguese Vinho Verde. If you’ve not tried Portuguese white I highly recommend it as a summer drink. Aliance Vinho Verde Branco To go along with my not-quite-spanish-but-near-neighbors wine, I am enjoying left-over Mystery Vegetable Stew with organic chicken sausage. For those of you who may be wondering (crickets ? pill bugs ? rattlesnakes in trees ?), Mystery Vegetable Stew is crafted by carefully cutting every vegetable left from last week’s CSA bushel into a crock pot, covering with a half bottle of red wine, and simmering all day. Tonight’s Mystery contains luscious eggplant, tomato, summer squash, bell peppers, potato and celery.

Later this week there will be chocotini’s with the good friends whose birth I attended, a Lammas ritual at the Vortex Theatre, and more packing. I have finished the kitchen and will begin on the library. Books….my guilty pleasure!

We got a response from the INIS, and it only took one week! Granted, the response merely says they are in receipt of his letter and that applications and inquiries are handled in chronological order, but hey, we have a reference number. That must be good. My suggestion is to follow the instructions on the website (um, yea) and post the requested documentation along with our new reference number to the address provided. 😀 We’ll see if he agrees with me.

This week has been full of discoveries. I learned that we share an interest in sustainable building and off-grid living. How have I known this man for two years and am just now hearing of this!?! Probably I have influenced him somewhat, but it’s delightful to hear all the same. Our house hunting has shifted to raw land and builders, specifically cob builders. A quick search led me to The Hollies . They have worked with the Cob Cottage company out of Portland, who incidentally trained the woman who trained me in cob building, Kindra Welch of Clay and Straw. Delightful discoveries all around.

Tom Petty knew what he was talking about!

We tried ringing the INIS help number during the times posted, in the hopes of a miracle, but the Garda was correct. They are no longer taking phone calls. We now must wait for a response to the letter posted by Himself earlier this week.

In the meantime, we occupy ourselves looking at houses on Daft and dream of a move to Cork to start his business.

you take it on faith, you take it to the heart…..

Three hundred lives of men I have walked this earth and now I have no time.

I haven’t had quite 300 years, but it seems I should have gotten more accomplished in the 3 months since we decided to live together. I’m also feeling rushed to get my credentials together for the various professional organizations I need to apply for membership with. Also, I need a CV, just in case. It is my understanding a CV is organized differently than a résumé, which is the standard marketing tool in the US. Thankfully, working in academia provides me with great resources. Faculty members submit nothing else for university level positions. I should start asking around! (yet another thing to add to my list!)

More detritus, or flotsam and jetsam, that washes into my brain and onto my To Do List: find tailor / seamstress, locate reliable shoe repair, google “bead store” or “jewelry repair”, discover the nearest massage supply store and non-chemical dry cleaners. These are service professionals I regularly visit and have fears they don’t exist in Ireland. Isn’t that silly? My little Big daughter informs me I am not relocating to the Stone Age, and I agree with her, but there is still a chance……

The man Himself will be here for his requisite pond hop in just 3 short weeks. I Can Not Wait!! I’m taking him to many of the traditionally Austin experiences we’ve missed on his other visits. We’ll watch the bats emerge from under the Congress Avenue bridge. We’ll drag ourselves out of bed Sunday morning and over to Ginny’s Little Longhorn Saloon for chicken shit bingo. The beautiful drive will be made to the Salt Lick, so we can enjoy more of a true Texas heritage: slow smoked BBQ. An evening of two-stepping at the Broken Spoke will be in order, as will soaking in the frigid chill of Barton Springs.

As I list these treasures of the city I love, I realize how much I will miss the quirky loveliness that is Austin. With it’s hipsters and hippies. It’s rockabilly and swing. But maybe I can convince Himself to join me on a yearly Austin City Limits Music Festival pilgrimage, after all, I know his weakness. It sits down south, nestled on First Street, under a neon sign, and is filled with peppery, hot saucy, ice cold beer and margarita goodness:


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