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This past weekend we made the trip up to New Hampshire for my cousin’s beautiful wedding. We sent Wesley off to the puppy spa, locked up the house, and turned off the water. We thought we had everything pretty well under control.
For some reason, I totally forgot to make sure that America, You Sexy Bitch was somewhere that it couldn’t get into any trouble.
And then I come home to these.
Sleeping pills + Twitter = BAD IDEA
Crocs Heaven <3
Supporting Our Troops
Exercising Its Second Amendment Rights
I definitely expected this book to challenge some of my perceptions… but, erm?
AYSB, you are SO grounded.
Guys! My copy of America, You Sexy Bitch arrived on Monday! It was accompanied by loads of goodies from Mandy, and promptly set about making itself right at home.
Unfortunately, it didn’t quite anticipate the, er… “leanings”… of its new home.
“Uh, so it’s THAT kind of party?”
“This is going to be more difficult than I thought.”
“Lalalalala I can’t hear you…”
My Instagrammy friends are probably sick to death of already aware of the fact that Army Boy and I have been spending a lot of time biking the local rail trails this summer. Most of it is due to the fact that exercise is GOOD FOR ME, but I’ve also discovered that biking is something I really enjoy. Yes, I may call Army Boy horrible names around mile 5, but I eventually get my second wind and am back to my sweet and charming self.
Well, as sweet and charming as I get, anyway.
Sometimes I don’t exactly make the best decisions of other ways to spend my spare time, such as choosing ginormous books to read when I should perhaps be focusing on my “British Monarchy Month” goal. Or of choosing to watch allllll of “Game of Thrones” season two in a week, and then jumping right into A Storm of Swords because my intense fervor for the series has returned with a vengeance. Between that and Elizabeth The Queen, I’m plowing though (heh heh) two huge tomes, and my other British books are looking at me reproachfully.
“You do realize that June is practically over,” they’re saying, “And that you’ve only posted a review of ONE of your scheduled books?”
Then I give them The Finger because since when did paperbacks get so judgy?!
One super exciting development that I’m thrilled to share is that I nabbed a spot in Mandy’s Blogger Book Club, hosted by the adorable Mandy (duh!) of The Well-Read Wife. I already knew that Mandy was awesome, as I reached out to her when I was thinking of steering my blog in a more bookish direction, and she responded with a great email full of invaluable tips. She’s a bit of a literary chameleon, and never shies away from using a book as an opportunity to wear a great outfit. On top of that? She’s one of BlogHer’s Voices of the Year this year. Yes, I have my gushy pants on. I am slightly excited.
I’m going to be reading and reviewing America, You Sexy Bitch by Michael Ian Black and Megan McCain along with 50 other bloggers, and I’m going to love every stinking second of it.
(Secret Confession: I kinda… like? Meghan McCain?? She’s been in the spotlight for a while, and handled herself well despite some extremely personal criticism. I like her enough that I’m willing to read what she has to say, and I think that if we could make a pact to not talk about our political leanings, we could totally get down with pedis and a cocktail and debate the merits of Channing Tatum’s abs vs Chris Hemsworth’s everythingnomnom.)
(Don’t tell anyone I blogged that or I’ll have to kill you.)
(I mean about my bff Meghan. Not about Channing Tatum vs Chris Nomsworth because Chris would win unless Channing’s face was covered and he was doing a little “Magic Mike” routine bow chicka…)
WHERE WAS I?!
Yes! It’s practically July, and I’m in Mandy’s Blogger Book Club. Stay tuned, because it is sure to be enlightening. Or amusing. Or a little of both!!
(And? This was my 350th Post! Wow, when did that happen?)
Of course, that wasn’t the original purpose of our vacation, but it proved to be an interesting bonus.
Army Boy and I travelled to Long Island over Easter weekend to “celebrate” our six-month anniversary as a married couple. I know, it seems a little excessive, but I felt the need to make up to him a bit that he was hampered by my hobbling during our visit to Ireland. When a Groupon for Oheka Castle came up before Christmas, I quickly jumped on it.
Side note: Yes, I’d recommend using Groupon Getaways if you can travel within the time window assigned to each deal. Oheka was wonderful to work with, and it was a great opportunity we might not have a: been aware of, or b: been able to afford otherwise.
I know, it seems like we have a bit of a fascination with castles. Honestly, can you blame us?
As we did in Ireland, I picked out a few potential activities within a short driving distance of the hotel, and figured that we’d play it by ear when we arrived. This seems to work really well for us. Rather than committing to a full “day trip,” we can take in the sights and still be back and ready to relax without too much additional travel. It allowed us to keep things really low-key, which made the weekend seem more indulgent.
With a bathroom like this, how can it be anything but?
We took a tour of the castle and its grounds on Easter Sunday, which was a gloriously gorgeous day. It was intriguing to learn more about the original owner of the castle, Otto Kahn (ie the inspiration for “Mr Moneybags” from Monopoly). The gardens were perfectly landscaped, and Huntington harbor was just visible from our vantage point. I HAD to ask our tour-guide about the castle’s claims of being haunted, and she verified that they’d had a paranormal research team come in and do an investigation. Considering my recent preoccupation with “Ghost Hunters: International” on Netflix, it was a fun coincidence.
The rest of the day was spent walking through Huntington, which was a charming little town close by. There weren’t too many shops open due to the holiday, but we hit the highlights- an amazing indie bookstore and CRUMBS cupcakes. Because DUH. We then proceeded to enjoy an Easter meal of the best sushi we’d ever had. I have to give Huntington props for food- there were TONS of restaurants, with three choices for sushi alone.
We arrived home after a drive that was somehow TWO HOURS longer than the trip up, to some exciting packages in the mail. First was my copy of Fifty Shades of Grey, which I oh-so-generously agreed to review for my own smutty curiosity The Readers Café.
Secondly was CJHannas’s recently finished manuscript. I volunteered to read it, and was completely flattered when he offered me a copy. I admit, I was a bit intimidated (what if his writing was faaaaaarrrrr too smart for me?!), but quickly got into his writing style and have been tearing through it over the past few days. It’s been a blast to be part of the writing process in this way.
Finally, I’m appealing to any of the other book lovers who may visit this blog: Do YOU want to join a book review site with some fun, smart, and snarky people that love books as much as you do? The Readers Café is looking for some more reviewers, and we’d love for you to join us! You read what you can, at your pace, and post a review when you’re done. It’s an absolute breeze, and we’re having a blast so far. We all have different tastes, so no genre will go unnoticed! Send an email to thereaderscafe1@gmail.com and let us know you’re interested!
After reading my posts about our honeymoon in Ireland, my sweet hubby pointed out one thing I’d missed.
“You forgot all of the flower pictures.”
“What?”
“You know. The hydrangeas. That you took pictures of EVERYWHERE.”
“In my defense, they were unusually vibrant.”
“Uh huh.”
Honestly, I couldn’t help myself. I first started noticing the hydrangeas while we were on our pony trek, and pointed them out to Army Boy. They were so strikingly gorgeous that I couldn’t wait to get back to my camera to document them. Growing in the naturally acidic bog soil, they displayed hues that some gardeners can only dream of.
So here is my cache of shame- SOME of the hydrangea pictures. You should all agree with me, just to make Army Boy feel guilty. 
When I started writing about our honeymoon over a month ago, I had no idea that it would take me so long or consist of so many entries. In retrospect, I should have been prepared to write pages and pages about an experience that was so incredibly rich and special. While we were lucky enough to have five whole days in Ireland (the first of which was basically decimated by jetlag), a part of me can’t help but wonder what other amazing things we’d have done if we only had more time, or if I hadn’t been battling the ominous Foot Injury of Doom.
Army Boy and I made a promise to each other that we WILL go back. A hopeful part of that promise is “before kids,” but we’ll just have to see what life throws us in the next year or so. In a perfect world, there would be new jobs and home improvements would miraculously NOT eat up all our potential extra funds… but for now we’ll wait and see.
Predictably, we slept late after our day spent outside exploring Kylemore Abbey and hiking to the D’Arcy monument. We managed to pull ourselves out of bed, groaning for coffee like a pair of neglected zombies, and stumble to the dining room in time for breakfast. While we didn’t have a set agenda for the day, we at least had to make it into town for a: a real Pint in an Irish pub and b: to buy MOAR of the Things!
After my successful trip out the day before, I felt confident that we’d be able to walk into town without too much trouble for me. The distance really WAS short enough that I could handle it with Das Boot. I grabbed the camera and we hiked down through the gardens of the hotel to get some pictures of the gorgeous property.
Our first stop once we reached down was the jewelry stop from our first day. A ring had caught Army Boy’s eye, and he was on a mission to make sure it became his. Unfortunately, there was one thing that we weren’t counting on- in addition to having a more relaxed opening/closing schedule than shops in the US, some stores actually observed the “day of rest” and weren’t open at all on Sunday!
At that point, we actually needed our umbrellas for the first time since we’d arrived- the weather had determined to set our itinerary for us, and we ducked into an open pub to have some lunch, get our pints and get out of the rain. Nothing’s better with a beer than fish and chips, and that’s what we both decided to enjoy. All of the rumors are true- Guiness is FAR better in Ireland than anywhere else. It’s practically a meal in itself, and finishing mine was a challenge. One I was more than willing to accept, of course.
Unsure of the Sunday hours of the other local shops, we decided to make our priority getting the whiskey that we’d promised to family back home. We stood in the liquor aisle, surveying the impressive selection of whiskeys, and realizing that we hadn’t the faintest clue which of them were actually any good. I decided to avoid any of the names that I was familiar with back in the US, so my first pick was a bottle of Crested Ten. It’s made by Jameson’s (yes, THAT Jameson), but you can’t get that particular variety over here.
After that, we were stumped. I hit on the bright idea of asking one of our fellow shoppers for recommendations- a trick that’s worked well for me in the past while traveling. If the locals enjoy a certain place/shop/food it’s probably going to be good. I looked up at the tall gentlemen browsing to my right, and inquired as to whether they had a particular favorite whiskey.
You would think that browsing in an Irish store, looking at the Irish whiskey while standing next to gentlemen with accents would guarantee you an Irish recommendation. I’m ashamed to admit that the sweet young man smiled and said, “I’m sorry Miss, we’re from Holland.” Diction-recognition FAIL. We ended up grabbing a bottle of Jameson’s 12-Year Reserve and another of Connemara (this one WAS recommended by a local) before heading to the supermarket for MY last shopping requirement.
We’d made fantastic work of our stash of Cadbury, and I’d managed to narrow down the choices of treats we’d be bringing home. I adored the Crunchie bars, and something about the simple sweet Dairy Milk Buttons made them a perfect treat. The thing I didn’t get nearly enough of?? Lemons Iced Caramels. Oh good lord, they’re amazing. Chewy soft caramel surrounded by a crispy icing shell?! So far, I haven’t had luck at finding a way to get them over to the states yet, but I’m still trying. And by “over to the states” I mean “in my face,” because I’m selfish like that.
A check of the time revealed that the day was getting away from us far too quickly, and we took the scenic route back up to the castle to finished our packing for the next day. Our 7am flight out of Shannon would demand that we leave the hotel at the ungodly hour of 3:30 in the morning (10:30pm EST) to make the drive from Clifden. Our evening’s activities would have to be greatly abbreviated, in order to go to bed and try to get a little sleep.
I’d decided ahead of time that for our last dinner in Ireland, I was going to ditch the flats and dress up for a nice dinner with my new husband. Regardless of how silly it might look to wear a dress (and hose, we were in the British Isles and if it’s good enough for Princess Kate, it’s good enough for me!) with Das Boot, I didn’t want to miss the chance. Even the universe was against me, as the hair dryer in the room (my last resort after frying my adapter and hair straightener on day one) blew, leaving me with a wet tangled mess of hair that was more fit for Connemara ponies to chew than a nice evening. Fortunately, the wonderful front desk staff came to our rescue and I was back in business in no time.
A short time later, we were seated in the dimly lit dining room, at a table for two by the window. Outside, we could see the Irish flag waving in the light drizzle that had rolled in with the evening. As we ordered our first course, I looked around the room that had become so familiar in a short time and felt a lump start to form in my throat. I forced myself to keep it together, but was barely able to hold back the tears as I realized the end of our adventure was so close at hand. After a few short hours rest, we’d be back to life and reality. The months of planning, work, stress and laughs had all boiled down to the last two incredible weeks, and it was…. Over??
Thanks to my internet reading, I knew it was perfectly normal to have a post-wedding “crash,” but I certainly wasn’t expecting it to be over prosciutto-wrapped melon in the hotel dining room. Or sitting in first class on the flight home the next day. (I should have known better than to watch “My Sister’s Keeper.” What a loon.) Army boy, who was sleeping like a baby in the amazingly comfortable seats, missed it all. There are not enough tissues in those little purse packs. For real.
We stopped at the front desk at the way back from dinner to settle our account, knowing that doing so at 3am was going to be out of the question. Returning to our room, with the suitcases neatly grouped and ready for our early morning departure, I couldn’t believe everything we’d gotten to see and do in our time in Ireland. We forced ourselves to bed, knowing that our alarm would ring all too early, and we’d have an “interesting” drive through the night to Shannon.
I wish that I had more memory of that drive to report, but the thing that I recall most is laughing hysterically. The wee hours of the morning lend even the most mundane task (driving) an edge of the manic that kept bubbling over in both of us at the slightest opportunity. Of course, it didn’t help that the night was dark and misty, and we were relying on our gps and the glow of our headlights to find our way. The Irish countryside at night is dark in a way that is difficult to find here, and the windy roads even more treacherous than by the light of day. You can only imagine our surprise when we came around a corner to find white cottony clouds blocking our way, especially when those clouds stared at our car and let out bleats of alarm.
“SHEEP! SHEEP IN THE ROAD!!” I cried out before I could stop myself, and then burst into giggles.
“WAH!” was Army Boy’s only response as he slowed and was able to maneuver around the unruly flock.
Just as we’d managed to calm ourselves from the sheep incident, we entered the Galway city limits, and began to navigate the series of six or so roundabouts that would point us toward Shannon. I don’t think that a GPS has ever taken such blistering verbal abuse as ours did that evening, but I comfort myself in the knowledge that they haven’t quite reached an A.I. level of intelligence.
The last moment of levity came as we merged onto a newer highway, and our dear friend the GPS wasn’t familiar with the road. She furiously attempted to “recalculate” over and over, landing our little electronic representation in fields and bogs before finally settling on guiding us along some train tracks.
“You are NOT a train,” I intoned in the dry British accent she used to express her displeasure with us, leading us both to ridiculous fits of laughter. All the excitement served only to tire us more, making our eventual exhausted sleep on the flight home that much more inevitable. Not SO inevitable that we couldn’t grab one last bottle of whiskey at the duty-free in the airport, but just about.
We pulled into the rental car parking as the first light of dawn streaked the sky pink, and solemnly loaded our luggage into the shuttle to the terminal. We had 22 hours of travel ahead of us before we’d pull into the sleepy train station in Central PA, complete with turbulence, flight delays and one more round of Crumbs cupcakes. By the time we entered our quiet house, on our darkened street, we couldn’t have been happier to be home.
I FINALLY finished A Clash of Kings, the second book in the “Song of Ice and Fire” series by George R. R. Martin. Those books pack some serious punch, and as much as I would love to read them from beginning to end, I find myself needing a break for some levity and potentially some young-adult/dystopian/trashy romance. I’m not going to write a typical review on these novels, because, well… They’ve been around for a while.
This is purely the product of my sleep-deprived brain laaaaate last night. Any plot information is based on where I am in my reading, not based on the story as a whole OR on the HBO series. So I may be spoilery, or may not have the whole story. And that’s ok with me. Leave spoilers and I may cut you. I’ve been reading far too much about swords lately.
Gandalf: Good Evening Ladies, Gentlemen, and those of you who don’t identify with either gender. In the spirit of friendly competition, I’ve brought together some of my dear friends for a roundtable discussion of the relative merits of J. R. R. Tolkien’s “Lord of the Rings” trilogy, and George R. R. Martin’s “A Song of Ice and Fire” series. We aim to keep this a friendly discussion, so as not to draw comparisons to some of the more recent political *cough*Republican!*cough* debates that may also be interrupting some of your regularly scheduled programming.
I’m your host for this evening, because, well… I’m Gandalf the White. And Magneto, but we can get into that some other time. Let’s start off speaking to some of our protagonists from both stories, to hear what they have to say.
Frodo: I really never wanted to be involved with this anyway? But, yanno, if a wizard comes along and tells you he has an important quest for you, you typically don’t say “No thanks, I was going to work on my Fantasy Hobbitball team instead…”
Ned Stark: Right? I’ve got the same issue. King Robert came to Winterfell, and was all “Ned, you’re the only one that I can trust to do this. All of my previous Hands have met untimely ends, and I need you to figure out why.” Well guess what? Now I’M dead.
Frodo: That sucks, dude. I had plenty of people try to kill me, but fortunately none succeeded.
Ned: You want to know what’s worse? Robert was killed by his evil wife Cersei to cover up the fact that she was HUMPING HER BROTHER and that all the royal progeny were all products of incest and illegible to inherit-
Cersei Lannister: YOU HAVE NO PROOF.
Bran Stark: But I dooooo…..
Jaime Lannister: Get lost, or take a flight kid.
Ned: Are you done? As I was saying, now one of those bastards is sitting on the Iron Throne and the entire kingdom has been plunged into chaos.
Joffrey Baratheon: I just can’t wait to be king!
Aragorn: Speak for yourself. I never wanted to be the king, because of my tainted blood.
Joffrey: Mother, what does tainted blood mean?
Cersei: Don’t you worry Precious, I’m sure your Lannister-squared bloodline isn’t remotely responsible for your sadistic tendencies.
Sansa Stark: I’m just glad I don’t have to marry him anymore. I bet all of his rage is compensation for a tiny-
Ned: AS I was saying… Joffrey is on the Iron Throne, but the rightful heir to the throne Stannis Baratheon attacked Westeros to attempt to claim his place. Meanwhile, King Robert’s younger brother Renly ALSO decided to name himself King, married some Tyrell tart and raised an army in the south.
Gandalf: What you’re saying is that shit was getting serious?
Ned: Exactly.
Aragorn: That really doesn’t sound so bad, honestly. At least you’re not dealing with a supernatural foe that trapped his life force within a ring and is raising an army of horrific creatures to enslave the entire world as you know it.
Frodo: AND you don’t have to deal with any elves or dwarves.
Tyrion Lannister: Not so fast, Hobbit. I basically ran the city until the battle for King’s Landing, when my evil, incestuous bitch of a sister-
Cersei: Me again! *jazz hands*
Tyrion: -told one of her knights to make sure that I didn’t come back from the battle. Also, I serve to provide comic relief and make a lot of short jokes.
Gimli, Son of Gloin: That’s just what I did! Complete with dwarf-tossing.
Tyrion: I wish I had thought of that!
Joffrey: Yes, someone see that my uncle gets “tossed.”
Tyrion: F@#$ you, Joffrey.
Gandalf: Wow, I bet our censors loved that one! Ned, back to you for some more information on our story thus far.
Ned: Well, after my death my son Robb called all of my bannermen from the surrounding lands and made sure they swore loyalty to him. They did one better and encouraged him to go to war against the Lannisters to avenge my death.
Gandalf: So, he doesn’t want the crown?
Ned: Not exactly… but once everyone saw that he was a fair leader and a brave warrior in battle, they crowned him “King in the North.” So yes, we have another contender.
Joffrey: I WANT ROBB STARK DEAD.
Cersei: Quiet Precious, Mummy’s working on it.
Gollum: Who has the Precious!!!??? *Jumps on Cersei, starts biting her* MY OWN! MY PRECIOUS!
Jaime Lannister: Um… Yeah, I’m out… *exists stage right*
Tyrion: What a shame. And yet it seems only fair after I took a sword to the face.
Gandalf: So, to sum things up- in Middle Earth, we had a crazy Steward of Gondor, a possessed King of Rohan and a wimpy heir of Isildur. In Westeros, you’ve got two of the dead King’s brothers-
Ned: Well, one actually. According to my lady wife, some creepy sorcery went down in King Renly’s tent and he was killed by King Stannis. Though by what sorcery that could be accomplished, the gods only know.
Melisandre: *Dramatic wink*
Gandalf: One of the King’s brothers, the King’s bastard son, your own son… and the heir to the Targaryen line, Daenerys. Who, bee-tee-dubs, has dragons.
All Game of Thrones Characters: DRAGONS?!
Gandalf: Ooops, you didn’t know that?! Spoiler alert!!
Samwise Gamgee: Master Frodo, I think that they’ve got us beat. Orcs aren’t nearly as cool as dragons!
Frodo: They can’t be nearly as bad as Nazgul. Or Shelob. Or… Whatever Sam, go make me a sandwich.
Sam: You are SUCH a bitch since we got back from Mordor.
Jon Snow: Oh, by the way? We’ve got zombies too. At least, that’s what I think they are. We saw them in Book One and then haven’t really revisited that plot point.
Gandalf: And you sir, are?
Ned: Well, he’s my illegitimate son. But I raised him as my own until I forced him to go guard the wall that protects our kingdom. My wife KINDA has a problem with the fact that I haven’t told anyone who his mother is. Since I’m dead? That’s not getting resolved any time soon.
Gandalf: Maury?
Maury Povich: Ned Stark, you ARE the father!
Ned: I’m pretty sure I haven’t contested that.
Aragorn: At least people in Westeros are gettin’ some. Amirite?!
Gandalf: I think that’s all we have time for tonight, but it seems like things are JUST getting interesting in the debate between Middle Earth and Westeros. Make sure to tune in next time!
(images found via Google images)
