Inaction

So, Christmas is rapidly approaching and I am thinking about our St. Stephen's Day feast.  I don't know who St. Stephen was or how that became a holiday here (one that is not celebrated in America), but I do know that we will be serving copious amounts of Indian food here at our house. There is something about the day after Christmas in Ireland which means that "if you didn't cook Christmas dinner, it's your turn to take in everybody today for a meal".

Today, there is so much to do.  I am just looking around my house at all the last minute jobs like wrapping a couple presents, finishing laundry, etc, etc, and it actually makes me less and less inclined to do any of them. In fact I find myself sitting at the table eating "Tesco's Finest" Nut Granola and sipping a lukewarm instant decaf coffee.  Yes, I have the Peets that arrived in the heavenly box from Santa Barbara, but I'm saving it!!!

Christmas Rush

Christmas is always a special season.  In the middle of July people look forward to Christmas.  In Ireland you think of white, frost covered fields, grass crunching under your feet, you see yourself looking through your own frosted window at the multicolored lights on your own Christmas tree. How is it then, that Christmas is always suddenly here? You find yourself with one week left to the day, having very little bought for your "significant other", no idea how you are going to entertain the hordes of guests you promised to have on St. Stephen's Day, and hoping you get everything wrapped and the cookies out for Santa.

It happens every year!

Passports

So, here we are, anxiously awaiting the receipt of our passports in order to travel to the USA for Thanksgiving.  I am already salivating like Pavlov's dogs waiting for the table to be covered with turkey, mashed potatoes, my Mother's gravy, and pumpkin pie with spray-on whipped cream (I apologize profusely to my gourmet relatives about that comment)!!!  I hadn't realized that we would need our American passports to travel until a significant brother-in-law mentioned it at the Sunday lunch table a couple of weeks ago.

I had an experience at the American Embassy, which in spite of all the trouble I felt we had about the passports, really put everything into perspective.  We were seated at the American citizens side, which was practically empty, while on the other side of the room, the area of visa seekers, asylum seekers, etc. got busier and busier.  So, when another person came into our side we were ready for a bit of conversation.  Coincidentally, and this happens all the time in Ireland, it happened to be somebody my husband knows, from the very town we live near.  Well, we had a great chat, and talked about our mutual plans to go to the USA, and then headed back home, thinking nothing of it.  We didn't get our passports, and we are still hoping we will get them in time to travel when we want to!  But, even though this was a bit upsetting and stressful, it was nothing compared to what my husband told me a mere 4 days after the Embassy visit.  Our friend we chatted to died suddenly.  He was young, fit, happy, seemingly unstressed.  I really felt shocked. The fact that you'd be chatting to someone like him, and I used to see him on the main street of town all the time, and then suddenly that's it, he's gone.

So that has shown me that I could be stressed out about a small detail, a glitch in my schedule, but that something like that is actually very trivial when I look at what happened to our friend...

Paris

Roughly a year ago this weekend I was in Paris. I recently saw the Woody Allen movie Midnight in Paris with my famous cinema going friend and I loved it.  There is something about Americans in Paris, and families going to Paris, working out kinks in their relationships and rediscovering themselves and each other... Paris is indeed another world, an escape from mundane reality.  When we were there, we started the trip just like the beginning of the film, in Giverny. Little would I imagine that our artist friend would remember those "mauvaises herbes" growing outside Monet's house...Every little street is different, every cathedral and church is lofty and silent (except for the one where we tried to stifle our "fou-rire" that we caught after lighting a candle...Just near Les Halles...

I hope we make it to Paris again in 2012.

October

It is October now and we are well into autumn.  This morning, walking out to the car it felt distinctly chilly, all the dead leaves scattered across the drive.  The Ted Hughes Poem "October Dawn" perfectly catches the slow shift into winter.

October brings a special tradition into our life as it is the autumn Station Mass which is held in the home of one of our neighbors.  It is an old country tradition where a mass is said in the chosen home and afterwards,  sandwiches and cakes are served.  I always fare poorly at the table in front of the neighbors as I do not (cannot) eat a piece of each and every delicious cake that is offered to me.  It is a special night, because in some parts this tradition is dying out.  It is great to keep contact with everyone who lives down our narrow rural road. Our priest remembers those who passed away from the area, and usually reminds us that some time sooner or maybe later, it will be us.

On a more upbeat note, Halloween is also coming. I pulled out my worn bag of children's drawings, half burnt skull candles, and plastic skeletons to decorate the house with! I want to dress up as a witch definitely, if only my two sons didn't find it horribly embarrassing.

Rain

When you look at pictures of Ireland, windswept and wild, it seems beautiful and even romantic.  I imagine sitting by the fire with a book, doing chemistry experiments with the boys, or just hanging around the house, feeling no pressure to go anywhere.

Of course on a day to day basis, rainy weather is a different experience.  Yes, it means running errands, negotiating traffic, and doing the school run in the pouring rain.  September has not been a great month here weather wise.  Let's hope that October brings an improvement.

For more thoughts on rain, check out the poem "Rain" by Langston Hughes...

Bandon Final

Today is the final of the last real "Summer" tournament in Cork.  I miss not playing in it, but our club have a good couple playing today.  I recall meeting some really tough, great players from Bandon in the women's doubles.  Solid hitting and tidy play at the net.  Yes, thank you for using me as target practice!!!  I can only hope that has improved my game.

I truly don't know how I became so hooked on tennis in the last two years...

It all started in a small Santa Barbara suburb with a fantastic teacher named Gail.  So,  going to my local neighborhood courts, I learned the grips, the basic service motion that I still have today, and got free extra lessons for helping with the younger kids' classes.  Following that introduction, I was fortunate enough to make my high school tennis team (starting first year at the bottom!!!) and slowly working my way up the ladder.  California is a great place for learning tennis because the competition is stiff.  There are excellent players receiving hours and hours of coaching and participating in some of the top clubs in the state.

Tennis team was the best extra-curricular school activity by far.  Road trips all around Southern California, matches in the 35 degree Calabasas heat, being plied with sweets before a match on the grounds of Beverly Hills high school (now that's a fantastic strategy from the Beverly Hills girls), and most of all benefiting from the endless patience and knowledge of our coach.

So, that brings me back to Ireland.  It's a far cry from the warm sunny days, where the only thing we worried about in training was having our thermoses full of ice water and being able to finish the drills our coach gave us before the other teams.  Or even beating Santa Barbara High School, the old enemy.  Here, you have to constantly battle with the wind and rain. We even had to get an ordinary broom to try and sweep the ice away from the baseline.

Having said that, it is the people who play who have proven to be fantastic sportspeople, great fun, and enjoyable new friends.  I salute you! And here's to more tennis this winter. Let's hope it doesn't snow!!!

September

Fall is here, and I have to say it's my favourite season. The dry crisp leaves are being blown everywhere, the boys are back to school, and the air is constantly changing between warm and chilly. The farmers down the road were just trimming the hedges today, which certainly makes these narrow roads more passable. The blackberries are out in force up and downthe road, and at the weekend people come down in their cars to pick them. Anyone who wants to enjoy the sensory and atmospheric experience of this must read Seamus Heaney's Blackberry Picking poem.

Its been a long month, sidelined with a tennis injury after a fabulous summer on the Cork tennis circuit. I never realised that for such a wet, windy country, there'd be so many people out there playing tennis. And as crazy about tennis as me. In fact, in Cork City there is a fantastic social scene and quite healthy competitive spirit. Playing in Sunday's Well where you have to wear white was a real treat. It was like stepping into another world. And Carrigaline, everybody was so friendly. Especially inspiring, all the women players, of all ages, playing well, enjoying themselves competing at all levels. So keep playing, I'm coming back soon!