Pretty, Funny, Happy, Real

So, this time I can't find a way to neatly divide life into 4 categories so I'm squishing them all together.  :-)

This winter found me at a loose end.  The weather was best described as dark and dreary more often than not and I was quite homesick.  Creative activities tend to help me find my way out of aimlessness but the supplies for most of my old standbys were in the US and I didn't want to take up something new that required all manner of bits and bobs that I would then have to sort out when time came to leave.  So, I landed upon knitting.  Surely if there was only one hobby I should take up in Ireland, it was knitting!

Noah helps.  Without him I never would have remembered to get that yarn on my needle!

Allen performed some google magic and I went from weeping on the couch on a Friday to happily buying needles and yarn on Saturday.  Charlie's scarf came first and took me a good week to manage.  Things started moving much more quickly after we visited the Rock of Cashel.   There was a tapestry on display that had originally been in the chapel? cathedral?  At any rate, it contained intentional errors to emphasise that only God can create perfection.  I decided to embrace the philosophy and completed Megan and Noah's scarves in a matter of days.  I am now on Ravelry as afriendlyface.  I'm trying to decide between making a pillow cover or baby sweater next.

Happily, Ireland is on a definite upswing.  The sun is up around the time I am.  The rain is rain rather than sleet (at least most of the time).  The Celts consider spring to start on February 1 and I can see why.  Trees are blooming, daffodils are peeking up, crocuses dot the landscape.  I am really looking forward the glory of an Irish spring.

We're in the final stages of potty training with Noah.  At various intervals he now runs through the house yelling, "The poop poop is coming!  The poop poop is coming!"  It's like having your very own very small, very cute, and slightly demented Paul Revere.

When not channeling
Paul Revere

Finally, I went out with some of the other mothers from Megan's class for drinks at the pub.  In what is perhaps the capstone of my Irish experience... When Irish women get drunk, they start quoting Shakespeare.