They don't check into that sort of thing anymore...

Two weekends ago, my grandma was in Ireland at the family house in County Leitrim.  Let me set the stage a little.  Mohill, the town where the house is - my great grandfather built the house his children grew up in in 1928 - has a population of about 800.  Most of these people are cattle farmers.  There are more bars per person in Leitrim than any other county in Ireland.  Anyway, the house is waay old, falling apart in several ways, but my uncles, mother, and sister have made it their mission to fix it up so it's actually a place that is inhabitable.  It's getting there.

So anyway, grandma, my uncle Jack and aunt Aron were all in Ireland for like 2 weeks, so I said I would go over the last weekend they were there.  Jack throws a big roast to thank all the neighbors for helping out with the house while we're all in America, and just get everyone all together.  I was really happy when the trip timing came when it did.  Even though I missed Allison's birthday party, I really needed to get out of the city at the time and get some family time in.  When things hit the fan a little in your personal life, it's always good to see family...even if you're a little nervous about what the trip may bring (awkward moments, ridiculous one liners, etc).  My flight left at 8 something, so I left the house at a ridiculous hour.  I had my cab come to get me at 7.  In the car, he's driving to the airport and decides to be chatty.  Usually I'm up for it, but it's really early on a Saturday morning.  I chat with him anyway.  He starts asking about where I'm from, why I'm here, blah blah. We chat about the turmoil in his native land, Afghanistan.  He says, "So, are you here by yourself?"
me - "Yes"
cabbie - "Your family is all back in America?"
me - "Yes"
C - "Are you married?"
me - "No, definitely not married"
C - "So, why you not married?"
me - "umm, I guess I haven't met the right man yet?"
C - "But, why you not married?  You are 30, yes?  Is good age for marriage!"
me - "Um, well I'm not quite 30"
C - "Oh, ok...29 then"

DAGGER. Two hits before 7:30 am.  That hurts.  I pray this isn't a sign of the weekend to come.  Lord knows grandma is 87 and itching for a wedding.

So get on the plane, get off at Dublin, head to the train station to hop a train to Drumod.  There was a man playing a banjo on the train.  Oh lord.  Continuing to get nervous for the weekend.

When I get to the house, I ask what I can do to help get ready for the party.  Clearly, my job was to peal potatoes.  How many stereotypes am I fitting right now.  Sitting by the stove (that heats the house) pealing potatoes.  While I'm sitting there my uncle starts telling stories about my great grandfather and how he used to kill Black and Tans (british soldiers brought in to chill out the IRA before Ireland was a republic....I think) while farming potatoes.

Ummm...what?  Ok.

So anyway, the party starts eventually.  I end up hanging out mostly with the 9 and 13 year olds who are there, and their parents.  Everyone else is in their late 50s, early 60s, maybe 70s...I don't know.  Apparently Irish farmers don't crack.  You can't tell their age.  All you know is they can put back the beer, and good luck understanding them.  When you do, though, they are absolutely hysterical.  I would marry one if we could live in New York together.  Great people.  And good to chill you out a bit.  They aren't like the pretentious asses you meet in London, who move to the city, get a job and a suit, and think they are the hottest thing since sliced bread.  These guys work hard, play harder.

I was laughing throughout the whole party because, like my father, I tend to drop one liners throughout conversation.  I made two comments, one a reference to Seinfeld (that's a lot of potatoes) and one to Back to the Future (roads? where we're going, we don't need roads).  Clearly these were going to be lost on the party guests.  Most times I just say things to make myself laugh.  However, I looked to my grandma, aunt and uncle after throwing them out there.  Oh yeah...grandma's 87 and jack and arin don't have a tv.  Lost.  oh well...I laughed.

My grandma's cousins drove up from County Claire to see her as well.  I am walking by my grandma when she grabs my arm:
G - "Kath, this is my cousin Annie.  You know, she has a grandson who is 29 and a mathematician"
Me - "oh.  that's nice!"
G - "And he's single"
oh lord
me - "Um...aren't we related?"
G - "Well, yes, but, Kath...29 and a mathematician!  What more could you ask for??"
me - "um..maybe someone who's not related to me for starters.  He would be my third cousin!"
G - "Oh come on now, they don't check into that sort of thing any more!!"
me - "Thanks grandma, but I REALLY don't think I'm there yet.  Annie, lovely to meet you."

As I walk away I walk into my aunt Arin who is sitting there laughing.  "Yeah, thanks for the help there Arin."

The party continues.  Grandma goes to bed, the cousins leave, my buddies (the kids and their parents) leave, and it's down to me, uncle Jack, aunt Arin, and Malachy.  Malachy looks about 65 or so - but who really knows - and he was putting them back.  At 1 am, the party is still going.  I am so full I can't have another beer, but I realize that with some of the ridiculous things that are being said, I can't not have a drink.  I crack up a bottle of wine.  Finally, at 2 am, Malachy leaves.  I wasn't happy to see him go to be honest.  He's so funny and I was having a great time.  But I had also been up since 5:45 am.  So I was ready for bed.

We all head off to bed.  The next morning, we wake up, have some breakfast, and then go for a drive to the Father Mike Judge memorial.  He was "victim 1" in September 11th, has been featured in several documentaries, and his parents emigrated from to America from County Leitrim.  It was really nice.  Then we all headed for a late lunch/early dinner, I hopped on the train back to the airport, and was home by 11 pm on Sunday.  Quite the whirlwind trip, but, as expected, totally entertaining, and great to get a reality check and see family.