I’m back!  Despite it being very convenient to get Internet access in Dublin, I decided I was enjoying my disconnect with the real world too much.  I did however keep my paper journal and I’ll transcribe a few bits when I’m more coherent.

The trip, in short, was fabulous.  There are things I’d try to do differently, mostly just to cram more into my schedule or save a bit money now that I know better.  And there are places I didn’t get to see, but I knew that would happen with such a short trip.  I think next time, and I can’t wait for next time, I will fly into Shannon and see that side.

I wrote this on the flight from Dublin to O’Hare yesterday afternoon:

“They say getting there is half the fun and I agree.  But unless you are in a mustang convertible with good music, an open road, and news for your parents that you a) left a man b) lost a job c) are keeping the baby, travel home should be instantaneous.”

I was so anxious to get home, see my kitties, and of course ST.  I raced through customs because my connecting flight was only in an hour and a half, to find it had been delayed by weather for two hours.

After I (finally, thank you O’Hare check-in/security lines) plopped down at my gate, inhaled McDonald’s (first time this year I believe any golden arches has passed my lips), and rearranged my luggage to some form of not-everything-will-fall-out-of-your-purse-at-an-inopportune-moment, I called ST.

He was out on my patio.  He’d already fired up the computer to check for more flight delays, fed the cats, cared for the rose, and vacuumed.

“I went looking for some parsley for Cocoa.  Um, do you want me to do some grocery shopping for you?  Because there is nothing there.”

I’ll admit, as sweet as this was and as pampered as I feel, I jumped on it.  Because I knew there was no damn coffee in the place.  I repeatedly turned down the offer for more because there’s only so much a girl can take before she feels she’s taking advantage.

We got off the phone so he could wrangle dinner for himself and I could stare at the line of frazzled passengers at the payphone bank trying desperately to not stay in Chicago that night.

I got in around midnight.  Fell right into a huge hug.  I wanted to try and stay awake until he left for work at 3am so I could maximize our time together, but I flaked out in the end.  It was too soothing wrapped up in his arms.

Now I’m up and groggy and arguing with my body about being sick because I don’t have time for it.  (When the fuck will I learn to take Emergen-C when I fly?)  I have bills to pay, schools to harass, laundry to wash (and, fingers crossed, dry), and a million other things to get done.

Somewhat peckish, although I couldn’t for the life of me tell you what meal I think I should be eating right now, I went to nuke a tortilla so I could slather it with peanut butter.  But there were lemon poppy seed muffins in there already.  Because on our sixth date I told him lemon cake is my favorite.

Damn it’s good to be home.

Yesterday had a million of the bloggable moments, including ST pushing me up against a wall and murmuring, “So, are you?” into my mouth, with a nod to my, “I’m Blogging This” T-shirt.

He got the dryer working.  Fixed would be optimistic and, well, incorrect.  But it dried the load I needed.

 Oh, fuck it.  It’s too early in the morning to figure out how to spell eloquent let alone try and achieve it via blog.

We had a smashing time yesterday, and were once again grinning at each other in public in a way that makes people vomit.  He also purchased six million plant food-type thingies for my rose as he is determined I will learn to care for plants.  Obviously my parents will love him.

He also brought up, in true inappropriate fashion while we were snuggled on the couch, that I load the dishwasher wrong because different sized forks were in the same utensil compartment.  Obviously my grandfather, who complains of the exact same thing, will love him.

Isn’t it obvious?  I love him.

And what better way to show it than to leave for five days?

Today I will bum around Chicago with my parents, then hop a flight to Dublin around seven pm.  I’ve been a little nervous about this, but as the suck culminated with nothing but hurry up and wait on Friday I became more and more glad I had these plans.  Being unemployed is hard work, I need a vacation.

Not sure if/when I’ll have time to blog on the road.  But take care, hang tight, and I’ll be back soon.

Reasons today has completely sucked:

1)  I went to USF with the permit paperwork.  Then I had to sneak over to the chemistry department and beg an advisor to say I had taken the equivilent pre-requisite course.  I can’t get the permit until May 12th.

2)  Emails between me and SPC resulted in saying I had to go down to the campus in person.  Which now the earliest I can do that is May 12th.

3)  The thing is, there have been very few times in my life when my education has not wowed people.  I don’t think it should, but it has.  Now that I actually want it to count for something, no one cares.  It has been a slap in the face to have such a struggle to take a damn intro bio class.

3)  My dryer broke.  I’m pretty sure it’s the belt.  If not, there’s a whole nother level of suck involving my bank account right there.

4)  Not to be the kind of woman who lets a broken dryer get her down, I found a slide show on how to take apart a dryer.  But I am stuck on #1 - remove screws under the top panel.  The screws holding the top panel are alien screws.  Star shaped.  No flat head, phillips head or allen wrench can budge them. 

(ST, it’s entirely possible I’ve figured out what we’re doing tomorrow.  Um, if you bring quarters I’ll supply the fabric softener?)

5)  D & P are moving to Portland at the end of the month.  I am trying to put together a farewell party.  Fort de Soto won’t let me reserve a picnic shelter without fifty people (want to come say bon voyage?) and the back-up house is having patio renovations.  That leaves my place, which is fine except it’s not very big and not very child-friendly.  And for some reason I just feel like a failure for not finding something better/more creative.

6)  I cannot for the life of me get the automatic cat feeders to synchronize.  I think they are on pacific time.

7)  Now I’m just reaching for crap because I’m in a foul mood and want to bitch.

8)  There are millions of baby spiders all over my rose bush.  The rose bush that I have managed to keep alive for over a year which is the longest I have ever kept any plant alive.

9)  I am not a) in Ireland or b) drunk.

I am off to solve one of those and try to salvage something of the day…   

That was the title of the short story I had published in my high school’s artistic journal.  (For lack of a better description – it not only included writing but artwork and even a song or two on those flimsy pullout 45s.)  (If you do not know what a 45 is, you are too young to be reading here.)
 
My grandmother loved it because it included the cabin.  I don’t think to this day any family member has really put it together that the physical abuse the heroine ran away from mirrored the emotional abuse I had experienced.
 
Despite the fact that I dearly wish to never see any of those men again, facing my fears sort of became a mantra for me.  And since I’m a huge scaredy cat, it also was basically a full-time job.
 
The summer between my sophomore and junior year of college is when I remember making the most conscious effort.  I was living with a great aunt, pretty much a complete stranger, who by the end of the summer I would watch die from a stroke.  It was the first time in my life I had to drive on a regular basis.  I found a hopkido dojo so I could return to the jujitsu class at college and not flinch when I stepped on the mat.
 
Not a fear exactly, but that summer was the first time I ever ran a mile.  Before that, I just felt I couldn’t do it.  I decided that wasn’t a good enough reason not to try.  My aunt lived a half block from A-1-A and it was a beautiful view. 
 
I was proud of myself, every step.  But also embarrassed of my pride.  Other people managed to do all the things I was doing without pats on the back.  It was just life.  I should suck it up.
 
I remember that summer being so exhausting.  And I was always on edge.  Like once I started in on this fear challenge, I had to immerse myself in the unfamiliar.  Everything was foreign and I was changing so much that even calls from friends weren’t comforting or routine.  It felt like nothing would ever be the same again.  And I guess, in a way, it wasn’t.
 
This came to mind because I feel like I’m entering the same sort of pattern these days.  Except of course after you’ve conquered X number of fears, all that are left are the really big ones.  Like being unemployed.  Like following your heart and not your head.
 
And let me just say, it’s a fine line between deciding these are fears to be reckoned with and understanding that some fears are in place just to keep you from being stupid. 

Things are going about how I expected.  Which is to say, not that great.

After getting things squared away at USF, the biology course I want (need) is full.  Nothing to do but wait and see if someone drops and snag the opening.

You might expect me to be freaking out a little more.  After all, I fucking QUIT MY JOB to attend this class.  But, if you know me, you might also expect I have a plan B.

Plan B is to take the course at St. Petersburg College, where I attended last winter for my writing class.  It’s not ideal for a few reasons, and therefore I’m putting off registering.  And if that’s where I end up, I will probably attend the first week of classes at USF and see if I can work something out.

Even with a plan, and the absolute freaking determination This.  Will.  Happen, it’s a little stressful since I’ll be leaving the continent on Sunday.  And I had accounted for that and figured I’d just muster through this week and enjoy myself when I got to Ireland.  Except I’m banging my head on two brick walls.

1)  I have no idea what I’m going to do when I get to Ireland.  This will hopefully be remedied today as it is the first time I’ll have a spare minute to look at my guide book and actually plan the trip.

2) The cats had not played a prominent role in my decision to leave town.  Things are a little different now and I’m very stressed about leaving them.  Not only for them, but for putting the responsibility on others.  Sheba’s health seems off and on, and Frisco’s been bulimic lately.

It’s 5:46AM right now.  I got in from ST’s around 5 or so.  (Yes, things there are going just fine.  Which, if you know me, means I am making millions of mistakes that for some reason he thinks are cute and endearing.  Thank goodness I like ‘em a little not right.)  While it’s nice to linger in bed with the dog after ST’s left for work, this morning I knew I wouldn’t think straight until I got home.  So here I am, blogging and burning French Toast.

Hopefully I will update you with something more scintillating later…