Okay, so here we go!
I’m moving to Ireland. That’s what I’ve been telling everyone anyway. Gonna pack my bags, sell the house, garage the car and set out on a big jet plane to the land of my ancestors. That’s my plan; whether or not I can play it out is another story…well, actually, it’s this story.
So here’s the story of how one middle-aged woman, with no real resources other than the internet and the help of strangers (I feel ya, Blanche Dubois) made a move she never thought she could make. Or failed miserably. It remains to be seen…
The girl is the pic? That’s me, only my butt is slightly much, much bigger; the hair is the same, though, as is the hand on the head as in: what the hell am I doing?
Last September, my one and only child, Michael, went off to college. Once month later, my beloved Dad told us he had colon cancer. Two months after that, we said goodbye. It is just about the one year mark and I can tell you that nothing good has happened in the interim. After the dust settled (mostly in my living room, but that’s another story), I realized that I was all alone in the world. Not really, but you know how it starts to feel sometimes. I had developed a new allergy during my father’s illness, triggered by the stress they tell me, and now I can hardly eat or drink anything without breaking out in hives. Add these–loneliness, illness, depression–to the other factors I cull to describe my life: unemployed, unloved, unable to lose any weight, unable to get off the couch, and you see how it looked: sad.
Yep, I’ve been really sad, so sad that I started thinking about how everyone would be better off, especially me, if I just called it a day, if you know what I mean. Yep, considered kicking the bucket of my own accord. A rotten idea, I know, but one that sounds good when you’re down and out. I knew I didn’t really want to put a gun to my head, yet I didn’t know what else to do.
Then came the notices about The Gathering, 2013. Ireland was having a year-long PR party, calling back the children of all who had left those rainy shores so long ago. Are they calling me? I couldn’t help but wonder.
The Sunday after I saw this, I turned on the tv and what popped up but an NFL game being played in–Ireland! What the what? That’s weird, I thought. But a few days later, I knew it was all too true. I got an email from Groupon offering “Seven Days/Six Nights in Dublin, Ireland.” I mean, really. You see it, right? I had to go, I knew that now.
So, if you are a woman (or man) who’s been unhappy/frustrated/fed up/sad/depressed about life in general–or you are a human being who’s interested in other human beings–or just plain bored, please follow this blog as I make my way to jolly old, er, Ireland and begin the arduous task of turning my life around, or the longest pub crawl known to man. Either way, it oughta be good.
We leave in ten days. My son will travel with me and stay for a week, as we mark the first anniversary of our beloved Donald J. O’Brien’s passing in the land of his ancestors, amidst millions of partying Dulbiners during a three-day New Year’s Celebration kicking off The Gathering. So here’s to the next ten days of packing, cleaning, organizing, worrying, doing, planning, doing, packing….well, you get it. Taking a day off for Christmas, but maybe not, we will, in ten days:
Well, we already booked, but you get it 😉