As I write this, I’m sitting in a small Irish pub after having Oxtail for the first time and waiting for another Guinness as I listen to two young men sing authentic Irish music. Music that reminds me of what my dad would play on Saturday mornings as we made French toast.
Today I’m in Europe. I’m in Ireland. I’m going to Italy tomorrow. I can’t believe this is my life. I can’t believe that the trip that Mike and I have talked about for 3 years has come to fruition. This trip was our end goal of years that won’t go down as the happiest but will go down as the most memorable. THIS was our goal. Traveling together was our goal. Seeing the world together was our goal.
Today we reached our goal. Today our goals were exceeded when we were in St. Patrick’s Cathedral and the main priest came over to us as we were quietly taking in the beauty that this church was and said “he wanted us to experience something.” After having us pray in a pew that is 400 years old–out loud to him—he took us to a door that had once been used by the church when murderers were trying to get in. They cut a hole in the door so that they could stick their hands out to shake hands to signify that they were going to try to be peaceful. The door has been preserved but isn’t open to the public. Yet, somehow, “Father Tony” saw us and asked us if he could “do something special for us.” So he took us to the original door and trusted that we put our our hands thru the hole and ask those who we’ve wrong done to, to forgive us. Then, he had Mike go to the other side and he had us reach thru to touch our own hands. We promised to be loyal to each other, to always try to understand each other, to always be faithful, to always honor each other and most importantly, we promised to love each other deeply forever. All in a chapel that is hundreds of years old, with Father Tony, lingering around the corner with excitement.
It may not have been July 22, 2017, but it felt like wedding bells were ringing as I swore to be a good wife to an Irish Father.
Then as a typical Mike and I move, we headed from the beautiful church to the beautiful Guiness factory. It was incredible. HUGE. The history was wow-worthy and the “stouts” were even better.
After we had gotten enough of the Guinness factory, we headed to a small pub (because thank god I had barely eaten all day!). As we arrived, it was relatively quiet but the menu looked authentic and there are Guinness’s on the menu. In. What made it magical was when two young men came with their guitar and violin and began performing traditional Irish music. THIS WAS AMAZING!!!!!!! They played so many great songs but as they began “Wild Rover” and asked if anyone knew it to sing along, I was THRILLED to get scream “this American knows!!!”
What a day! And it was only the layover.
Lots of love & light,
P.S. Yes, I made a custom shirt with Phoebes face on it so she got to come on the trip too. SUE ME
Wednesday night, the Red Sox became world champions for the third time in a decade– dynasty. I was in high school when they won it in 2004 and was living in Tampa when they won it for a second time in 2007. Thankfully, 2013 I’m right here in Boston to be able to get in on all the celebratory action.
With any big championship, although you like to hope that it will happen time and time again for years to come, you just never know when the next time will be so I was ready to take on the city and get the full championship craziness. Saturday morning rolled around and I was up at 7 and making bloodies by 730. Great way to start the day. Mike made a delicious breakfast of potatoes and bacon egg and cheeses– meal of champions right there. Finished up breakfast and popped a bottle of champagne because clearly that’s necessary on a day such as this. Overall, champion choices were being made time and time again before 9am.
Took the train down to City Hall and the energy was electrifying. Everyone out and about dressed in their red, blue and Sox finest. Not like it doesn’t always, but it felt pretty damn good to be a part of this city. The streets were absolutely packed and buzzing with excitement. The parade had begun and we just had to wait for the Duck Boats to arrive on Cambridge Street. After about an hour or so of waiting, the rolling rally was right in front of us. Mike put me on his shoulders so I could see– which really was necessary, as these 5 foot stumpy legs were not helping my cause of seeing anything past the kid in front of me’s baseball hat. Up on the shoulders I went and I suddenly had the best seat in the house. The boats went by and it was so exciting to wave to all the players and see the trophy in person– so shiny and big, it’s quite the sight. I nearly broke Mike’s neck with the amount I was jumping around up there but I couldn’t help myself– it was like partying with the team, and that, that’s a fun time. 20 minutes later and all that was left on the street was red, white and blue confetti.
The parade may have ended but the day certainly did not. The streets were still buzzing and every bar in Boston was absolutely packed– just the way I like it. After about 15 minutes of waiting in line, we headed into Hennessey’s (seems to be my go-to place for big days and nights of drankkkking lately) and continued on a glorious day of beers, wings, singing, friends and laughs.
Yesterday reminded me of every reason why I love living in this city. Yes, it may get cold in the winter months and yes, the traffic can be really horrendous at times but the heart of this city is pure perfection. The sports are second to none. The bars and restaurants are absolutely on point. And the people are the most genuine, spirited and big-hearted people you’ll find just about anywhere. There truly is nowhere else in the world I’d rather live. So today, I’m waking up on this cold, rainy Sunday feeling wicked grateful and wicked happy to live in the best city eva, Boston, Massachusetts.