How I Almost Killed my Family on Thanksgiving

***Prepare yourself to be shocked, and to never want to eat over at my house again.***


This was a bad Thanksgiving. I was absolutely trashed. Substituting on my friend's paper route seemed like a good idea at the time. She needed the help, and my boys needed the experience and a little bit of money. It was only four days, how hard could that be?
Never. Again. Ever.

It was awful. We were terrible.

I think we set the record for complaints.
I was a grouchy, emotional zombie, all tied up in knots. Thanksgiving was at my house; all my siblings were in town. I was doing the turkey, dressing, potatoes, jello salad, and cheesecake. Typical of me, I began days and days ahead of time.
Except for the turkey.
I was planning on brining it, but it just didn't happen. Instead, I stuck it in the microwave for about 15 minutes the day before to begin the thawing process. That thawed the skin, and maybe a little deeper, and cooked the place where I forgot the little metal clamp on the bag. After pulling it out of the microwave, I stuck the turkey in the roaster pan with the lid on, handed it over to one of the older boys, and instructed him to put it in the downstairs fridge to thaw.
Thanksgiving morning, I staggered to the kitchen to start my preparations for the big day. It was around 9, and dinner was at 1:30. Shoot! I needed to get that turkey cooking right away! I went to the basement to grab it from the fridge. The blood forsook my face when I found the fridge empty. He must have re-frozen it! I opened the chest freezer and my lips began to tingle. Not there! I ran upstairs, ransacked the upstairs fridge and freezer (as if a 22 lb turkey was hiding behind bags of frozen peas). Nowhere. My turkey was nowhere. I saw spots.
I drug the offending boy out of bed and demanded to know what he did with my turkey.
"Turkey? I never touched the turkey, you just gave me that empty pan to put away. I put it in the storage room."
I swayed on the spot and tried not to get hysterical. I dashed to the room, and found the roasting pan on the ground, lid still in place. I lifted the lid and hefted the heavy pan under his nose.
"You call that empty?!!!"
He shrugged.
"I thought you said to put it downstairs. That looked like a good place."
My mouth opened and shut again several times, no sound coming out.
What was there to say?
My practical mind clunked into place. I turned to Lewis and told him that there was no way I could serve this bacteria-ridden piece of poultry. He insisted the turkey was fine. I consulted google, and no one on google agreed.
I dug deep, and remembered a horrifying story my mom told me about chicken slaughterhouses. According to her, they throw the carcasses in heaps. After they are well on their way to the dust from whence they sprang, the processors throw them in a bleach solutions and pack them for sale. Then off they go to the shelves of our favorite stores.
Bleach!
My mind clung to that idea like a life buoy.
I filled the sink with water, and added a bit of bleach- not enough to kill anyone, but enough to kill any germs breeding in the turkey. I soaked it inside and out. Then I rinsed it like no turkey has been rinsed before.
Then I cooked the crud out of it, and broiled the skin.
Then I served it. With a tremulous smile.
I watched everyone like a hawk.
And only the offending son threw up.
How's that for irony?

Obama Teleprompter Malfunction

This absolutely cracked me up! Thanks for passing this along, Jen.

Obama's Home Teleprompter Malfunctions During Family Dinner

A Sweet Gig.

I've realized lately, that I have a pretty sweet deal going on over here. Do you know, the place beside me at the table is the hottest real estate in town? The spot next to me on the couch during morning scriptures is fought over. Logan never wants the drive home from violin lessons to end because it's 'our' time together without anyone else. My husband shivers with delight to get a hug, kiss or shoulder rub from me at the end of the day. My little guys melt when I wrap my arms around them, like mommy hugs are some kind of drug. Dainon's eyes light up and he flexes enthusiastically when I punch him on the shoulder. It's like I'm a sought-after celebrity that no one can get enough of. Who knew that along with the dishes and laundry came so much power to make others so very happy?
It's a very sweet gig indeed.

When is the last time you really screamed?

Mine was the other day when one of my older boys shoved their cell phone to my ear and played a voice mail. It was from a girl. I heard the phrases "I've been watching you....If you want this relationship to work, you need to....I LOVE YOU...."
Then I screamed, loud and long. Then I think I fainted.

***Warning to you young ladies out there. My boys will not be played. Their mom has a black belt in feminine wiles and will instruct her strapping young men in the martial art of resisting you.***

Man Secrets Revealed

My son Dainon has just started going to dances. He has mastered the smooth art of conversing with the fairer sex throughout a three minute song. Apparently, that's not all he's learned. He imparted some secret man wisdom to me the other night that left me speechless.
Want to know how to impress a girl at a dance?




Wait for it....

















Wait for it...........








You dance with her fat friend.

My New Career (again?)

So we all stayed home today, and were really, really bored. Then the kids started sniping at each other and I thought about auctioning them off. My oldest son Dainon started editing photos of himself for his Facebook profile. I saw what he'd done, then I begged him to let me take some of him and mess with them myself.
I begged, pleaded, shed a tear or two and then he let me! Now, I have a really cruddy point and shoot camera. It does a terrible job with faces, the flash is so harsh and no flash is blurry, but I had a fantastic time. I was giddy.
Am I a pro? Alas, a lack. But my son will no longer have a lame facebook presence. Any little thing I can do as a mother, you know?
I present to you: The Many Faces of Dainon

I love his eyelashes. Did you know he stole them from me? Mine kinda fell out after he was born.

He let me mess with his hair too. The sacred forehead is showing. That sucker hasn't seen the light of day in years.

This one reminded me of some Andy Warhol print.

I call this one "Edward" I think he should be all pale and sparkly for Halloween.

I'm lovin' the hair. Would that mine had curl like that!
The eyes have it.
This one has a 'rebel without a cause' feel to it. Yeah, it was such a blast to do, too bad Logan won't let me take pictures of him. Maybe I can bribe him with something?

Hey, Loganski, I've got some chocolate soy milk for you!

Bullet Dodging no More

With all the sickness going around, the pukies, swine flu, the regular flu, bad colds...etc. We've come off pretty easy. Until today. I suspect the tide is turning. I have one guy in bed with a really sore throat, one with a rumbly tummy, one with painful swollen glands, and another one because it didn't seem fair for him to be the only one in school. I mean, if we're quarantining, we'd better do this thing right, right? So what's the forecast for today? Chicken Soupy with a strong chance of Netflix.

Speaking of Photographic Evidence....

I call this video "Will they never learn?" Or, "If you're going to break something, don't try to film it!"

How to Throw a Real Fit

I saw this on Facebook and had to haul my whole pack of boys in to witness it. This is fit-throwing at its finest!

Go Barefoot Burgler, Go!

I mentioned that I absolutely HAVE to read the morning paper sipping herbal tea with WAY too much sugar every morning, right? I read any news story aloud that catches my fancy, and did I ever enjoy reading about the Barefoot Burgler this morning! His story isn't one I've shared with fam, but we've (I've) been following his progress back and forth across the state, admiring his daring and brazen ways. Leaving bare footprints on the wall indeed! I'm thinking about leaving a care package for him on my roof for the next time he flies across the state in a stolen plane.

Photographic Evidence

I downloaded a bunch of pics from my camera today, and found this one. There are several pieces of information I can glean from this photo:
1. The whole 'don't play with fire, especially when adults aren't home' lesson has not been internalized.
2. That's what happened to all the lighter fluid.
3. At least it was outside!

Found:

2 gray hairs. Anyone missing any?

Please advise.

Bright Cheery Mornings!

I used to loathe mornings. As the alarm would rip me from slumber, I would feel the weight of dread hit my chest. There was so much stress, so many details. I was absolutely certain that if I didn't get out of bed, the world would cease to turn and all mankind would be annihilated. All that changed this year.

What is different?

I wake everyone up earlier. And I no longer pack lunches.

If anyone forgets their lunch, backpack, coat, homework etc., it's not my problem.

I still wake up every morning to the alarm, but that just means it's time to roll over, curl up with Lewis for about 10 more minutes of snuggle time. I gradually waken to Lewis sitting up in bed, reading his scriptures. At this point, depending on all kinds of environmental factors, I either sleep a little more, read some scriptures myself, or go wake up the kids.

It never ocurred to me that I might have it easy with my boys until I saw my mom's expression of shock when I told her it's not tough at all to get them out of bed. It's usually somewhere between 5:50 and 6:05. I come down the stairs calling "Good morning handsome princes!" I begin tickling Dainon's feet and cajoling him out of bed. I summon Logan repeatedly until I get a verbal response and I hear at least some movement. The little boys almost bounce out of bed. I carry Liam upstairs and put him in my bed, where he gets a little snuggle time with dad if it's still early enough.

Then we have scriptures. Tuesday and Thursday, we have Daddy here, which is new, and I love it.

After scriptures and family prayer, the boys all get themselves dressed and come up for breakfast. I quickly assemble a lunch for Lewis and kiss him as he dashes out the door. The boys get their own cereal while I sit at the table reading the paper, sipping herbal tea.

They eat, and I read any interesting articles aloud. Today, we discussed the Al Quaeda suicide bomber that got into the palace of a Saudi prince and detonated while he was standing right beside him. Apparently, he had a whole pound of explosives AND a detonator shoved up his rear. The prince was only slightly wounded, but the assasin made a BIG MESS!

What lovely breakfast discussion!

Then they pack their own lunches, and I'm slowly working my way through the paper. Heaven help anyone that tries to grab the comics out of order!

I'm available for consultation and various signing duties as I sit on my throne at the head of the table. First the big boys leave, then the little boys do. Somewhere during this time, Liam arrives looking toussled and grouchy. In an effort to avoid hysterics, we quickly supply him with cereal.

Then, before I know it, everyone is gone but Liam and me. It's lovely.

At the Checkout

I shop at Winco, which is a veritable United Nations. I love to see all the different styles of dress and hear the accents. Sometimes I'm just dying of curiosity to know the stories of the people around me, and how they see America. I also love to read all about different cultures and current events. Some of the stories I read break my heart, and I wish that everyone could live in a place with as much order, justice and equity as we do. Our country isn't perfect, but as I look into the faces of handsome young men that were fighting in Bosnia, or what look to have been lost boys in Africa, I'm SO GLAD THEY'RE HERE!
I was unloading my cart yesterday, when I noticed three very tall African men behind me. I heard them speaking in their native tongue and I tried to imagine the events they've seen. One of the men was quite imposing, and I remembered reading this article. I found it so sickening, and I wondered if any of the men behind me had ever raped anyone. I glanced up and my eyes locked with the mountain of a man behind me. His face was devoid of expression, but his eyes looked straight through me. I supressed a shudder and flushed, certain that he knew exactly what I was thinking. I felt terrible.
Who am I to judge anyone when I've never missed a meal or had to really fear for my life? A drug-addled thief at my door doesn't count.
I was pondering this when I noticed the woman beside me loading her groceries. She was from Africa too. I discreetly peeked at her face and saw the pinpoint scars that swirled decoratively on her forehead and cheek bones. She had a large scar slashing down her jaw. I was certain there was a long and painful story there. My self disgust was still fresh in my mind, and I decided to do something about it. I looked at her, smiled, and said "Hello!". She was startled and looked around, unsure if I meant her. She saw my smile, and I could see the thoughts forming in her mind. It went something like this: "Oh my gosh, she's talking to me. What do I say? What was that phrase again?" I repeated my greeting, and and asked "How are you doing?" I remembered how scary it is to try to form words and sentences in a foreign language, regardless of the goodwill of both. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree, and she proudly said, "Hello! How you doing!" She'd bagged her few items and turned to leave, and I wished her a good day. We both grinned at each other, and I left the store feeling light as air.

Sip-n-Ditch

This is the maneuver you employ when your four year old makes you a delicious drink (made of cold water, apple chunks and butter) and then waits with shining eyes for you to drink it.

Fiesta Friday

I've been trying to make little occasions to brighten everyone's day around here. The adjustment to school has been tough for most (all) of them this year. We had such a kicked back summer, that fall reality was especially harsh. I decided that Friday's dinner should be something of a celebration- as in, "Hooray! We survived another week of school!"

This Friday was our first fiesta, which meant that I made a ginormous platter of nachos, and we all sat around and ate them without plates and forks.

This is a full size cookie sheet! The coolest thing about it was, we couldn't finish it all! Do you know how hard that is for me to do? It gave me great satisfaction to see food still on the table. I'm already planning this weeks fiesta, I need to get my hands on some good Mexican mariachi music!

Goth Baby

I came home from violin lessons last week and found this. His 14 year old brother dressed him all in black, and made him an emo goth. Is his big brother a goth? No. He even takes great care to not pair black jeans with a black top lest others suspect him of leaning that way. While this was a slightly disturbing sight, it was also a very sweet demonstration of how much big brother is invested in Liam's life. I'm still taking away the markers, though.

I've Been Sent a Howler!

Not one of these, he's a little canine friend. Because I don't have enough to do, or enough people to keep alive and fed. In order to appreciate this story, I need to go back a few weeks.

Our dog Jill is getting old, fat and sassy. She has begun relieving herself on the basement carpet at night if we don't shut our bedroom door tightly. We've had her a long time, but incontinence is a bit of a deal breaker for me. (hear that boys? you've been warned!) A few Saturdays ago, Lewis was out of town, but it was okay because there was a church dinner. If I don't have to cook, all is right with the world. There was some sort of scout recognition and the big boys had to be early, so I sent them walking to the church. A few minutes later, I get a call from Dainon. "Mom, Jill just got hit by a car."
"What?! Are you joking? Is she dead?" There was a slightly hopeful sound to my voice.
"No, she's just limping on her back foot." Dang.
I went to pick her up, and found that she'd followed Dainon, and he hadn't sent her home. So she went and got herself run over, but not enough to finish the job.
Don't hate me, I'm not an animal person. I'm a people person. I like animals just fine, but they aren't on the same tier to me as humans.
Her back paw was injured. I looked at her, and saw dollar signs. I knew that I was going to miss that lovely dinner that I didn't have to cook. I was going to miss my boys' recognition, and everyone was going to think I was one of those flaky moms that just drop their kids off at stuff.
I called Lewis.
"Honey, Jill's been hit by a car. Where's your gun?"
"What?! How is she? How bad is she hurt?"
"She probably has a broken paw. Can I put her down? Please?"
"No."
Double Dang.
I didn't know if I actually could pull the trigger. Then I thought about her poop on my freshly shampooed carpet, and I thought I could. Lewis' dad told me about when his wife's cat came home badly injured with intestines hanging out. He knew the vet bills would be big, so he got out his 22 and took matters into his own hands. He washed, dried and fluffed the kitty back up. Then he curled it up under a bush like it was sleeping.
"Oh, look honey, I've found your cat."
"Ooo," she cooed "It looks like she went in her sleep."
He smiled.
I called him, and asked him to come up for a visit.
A week after this happened, Lewis came home with this little creature.

His friend from work had been begging us to take him. I'd been saying no, no, never. But they desperately needed a babysitter for the weekend. So, there he was, looking like some unholy combination of rat, monkey and dog. I approached him and he stood on his hind legs. I lifted him up from under his arms like a baby, and something magical happened: He put his arms around my neck and hugged me tightly. I'm not kidding. His breed has double jointed paws and can use them a lot like arms. He imprinted on me like some kind of werewolf in a vampire novel. I am now his whole world. Know what he's doing in this photo? Waiting and howling for me to come home. At first it was a little irritating not being able to take so much as a step without bumping into him, but he's relaxed a bit. He's quite naughty and steals food. When he's home alone, he has to be in his crate or he marks things (oh, the incontinence of it all!) But we like him. He makes us laugh. Violin practice is one of our favorite times now, see why?

*Oh, and Jill is still alive, and her paw is healing nicely.

I'm Flying!

It finally happened. I sent my chickadees out the door today for school! My trashed house is a long way towards order and peace. Now I just need to spend a quality afternoon with my TV and laundry. I feel like this huge weight has been lifted! Liam starts preschool on Wed, and then for three mornings a week, I'll be flying totally solo. I can't really take that in yet.
It was hilarious, the other day we were seated around the table, heads bowed in prayer before dinner. Lewis was giving thanks for all our blessings, and then deviated a bit. "We thank thee for school that is about to start, for all the hours and hours that Missy will have when her house will stay clean- for all the free time she will have to work on fun projects and enjoy peace and quiet...." He went on and on while I slumped with my head on my arms shaking with silent laughter. I believe I uttered a heartier than usual AMEN!

I Leveled Up!

This is what my boys call it if you've gained a new skill, learned to do something hard, or otherwise acquired experience points.

I'll let you in on a little secret. I used to be the wimpiest mom in the world. I wouldn't even take my boys grocery shopping by myself. For good reason. Little by little, I've gained confidence. Two years ago, I took my oldest three boys on an adventure to attend General Conference- that was huge for me. This week I did something that totally tops that: I took all 5 boys on a beach vacation adventure. All by myself. Monday, I got a wild hair. I thought to myself, "This has been a really lame summer for the boys. They should be able to have some fun." So I did some internet research, reserved a hotel room (camping is out of the question!) loaded up all the kids, and away we went! It was a solid 6 hour drive, and I only got lost once. At that point, I pulled into a Geico office and begged for directions. It worked, and we made it the rest of the way just fine.

I learned a few things. First, I have the coolest, funniest kids in the world. Sorry, but I took all the most interesting boys.

Second, I will never again try to fit 6 people on two queen beds. Ever. I thought I was saving money. No, I just purchased a terrible nights' sleep.

Third, I can do this. I can take the kids places overnight and still have so, so, so, so much fun.

Take a look!

We just happened to be at the best tide pools in northern Oregon at low tide. The boys climbed all over rocks, hunted crabs, played with starfish for hours.

Insert your own sound effects here: shrieks, screams, frantic calls for the brothers to come see the biggest crab of all time.

This was his first experience with the ocean since he was four.

This guy was fascinated by the sea. He had to explore every wave, every nook and cranny of every rock.

This guy had to test his nerve, out there in the freezing waves. How far out there could he go? I think he went under a couple of times. The big boys were wild men in the waves.

What's a boy outing without fire?

This is proof that I was actually there.

The scenery was amazing. We were at Ecola State Park. We're going back. We have to.

I begged, pleaded and commanded them to all get together for a group shot. This was all I got.

Logan buried himself in the sand, and Dainon came up and asked, "Does it hurt if I punch you right there?" As I recall, the answer was yes.

Doesn't the scenery just make you swoon?

Liam had a ball sticking his fingers into the little sea creatures. They're sticky and close around your finger. Are they anemone? Maybe.

The first day at the beach, I was pretty nervous, and lectured the boys on never turning their backs on the waves, and what to do if they got caught in a rip tide. I was sure someone would get nabbed by some freak wave and I wouldn't be paying attention and I wouldn't realize it until that night at dinner. If you know me, you know that could happen.

The next day, I just relaxed and enjoyed being with them. Like I said before, they were crawling all over some really sharp boulders. Even Liam, who the day before was nervous to get his toes wet, was leaping around like a mountain goat. I was with them the whole time, though. A couple who looked like they were in their 50s made their way over the rocks to me, and asked me if all those boys were mine. I smiled and told them yes, they were. They congratulated me on letting them play and really be boys. They told me they had figured they were brothers because of the way they interacted. That made me feel really good. There are so many things about mothering that I'm pretty terrible at. Letting my boys have adventures is something I really get. Having that noticed made me feel all bubbly inside.

Home.

I've been home for a couple of weeks. For a while there, the jet lag worked in my favor. I blinked awake at 5am every day, as chipper as can be. I was tired in the evening, but it didn't seem to slow me down much. I'm over it now, perfectly capable of sleeping in until 9 if given the chance.
My oldest son went to his first stake dance. (!!!!!!) I was mastered by the urge to spy on him, so I went to pick him up 15 mins before the dance was over. What a flashback! They were playing the exact same Bryan Adams song that Lewis and I danced to at stake dances. Nothing against Bryan Adams ballads, but dang. They need some new music. Dainon was teased mercilessly about his mother skulking about the dance,but it just rolled right off him. "She was just there to make sure my shirt stayed on." Classic, huh?
My second son got to go to Uncle Gib's house and work bees with him. Yes, my husband's only brother is a bee farmer. There's a fancy word for it, but it escapes me now. Logan got to do some serious work for more money than he's had in his whole life. On the way home, we introduced the concept of saving for his mission. (yes, if I were more responsible, that would have happened a decade ago) There might have been a tear or two over that.
I've also been looking at my Ireland pics, and I thought I'd share some more. Some of the silly ones.

Here's one of me driving in the wrong side of the car, on the wrong side of the road with a sitck shift in the wrong hand. It was very late at night, and we were a little tipsy. I don't need alcohol to get tipsy. I just need to be with girls, late at night, listening to fun music, telling funny stories and feeling wild and crazy. We went out in search of an authentic Irish pub. Strictly for the atmosphere, mind you. They were all closed, so Kimberly pulled over and let me drive. I got the kph/mph mixed up and was going way too fast, but I thought I was going too slow.

Some people have no sense of adventure! We hit some bumps, avoided a collision, and I decided to pass the torch back to Kimberly. Just in time. We saw a bunny. We stopped to take pictures, and voila.
The cops. The Garda, as they're called in Ireland. They just stopped to make sure we were okay, but I'm sure glad I wasn't driving!

This one cracks me up. I'd been posing for a perfectly lovely portrait when I got caught in some one's wicked tailwind. A digestive disturbance, if you will. Our road trip was hilarious, because at some point we all had health ailments that hindered our progress. All three of us were pretty pathetic. Most of you know that I have a delightful condition that can make life interesting if I get a little dehydrated. In order to abate my suffering, I need to get fully hydrated, as quickly as possible. Alas, what goes in, most come out, every 5 minutes for over an hour. What fun! On a long road trip, that can add an extra spice to liven things up. Lets just say that I have christened the land of my ancestors.

I love this pic of my sister, she's so cute.

Good times, I tell you.

Pictures

I was so sad as I was taking these pictures, because the camera just doesn't do Ireland justice. So when you look at these, keep it mind that is was WAY more spectacular in person. The beauty literally hurt my heart. Click on any of them to see up close.

It's Over. Almost.

I can't believe it, I am now on home soil. I'm not actually home yet, though. I flew into Spokane late last night, and stayed to sleep at the Earl's. It was so good to see my two sleeping babies! I smooched their cheeks and whispered how much I love them. Yesterday was a day that lasted about 60 hours. We began Tuesday with an all-out sight seeing blitz. We walked through the oldest castle in Ireland, it was built in 1180-something. It had been in the family for 30 generations, then sold to the Irish government in the 70s. I was drooling over the library there. Then we drove to the coast (a 15 min drive) and had lovely fresh fish and chips. Yum, with vinegar and salt! We hiked along a scary cliff-side path that left me feeling woozy, then we fed seals on the wharf. They're huge! It began to rain, but we hit the beach anyway. We frolicked in the surf in the pouring rain and got soaked. It was a blast! I have pictures of all this, and I'll share them when i get home. We drove home in various states of undress and got ready to hit the pub. We drove through downtown Dublin, which has been around since 100BC, and marvelled at the architecture. Then we shopped for souvenirs, so fun! The pub we stopped for dinner at was on Temple Bar, and there was a fantastic dinner show. A trio played traditional Irish songs and sang. Some of them were so bawdy that they asked Kimberly to cover her daughter's ears from the stage. I was so frustrated because I couldn't understand all the words. I appreciate a good bawdy drinking song, you know. Then the Irish dancers came on. They had performed all over the world and blew us away. We got home after midnight and started packing. We had to be a the airport at 3:30, so we figured, why sleep? We didn't, so after a 3 hour flight to Amsterdam, some crazy confusion there, (we had a connecting flight not listed in our itinerary) an 81/2 hour flight to Philly, another delay, then a 5 1/2 hour flight to Seattle, then a panicked run for my sis to catch a flight to Salt Lake that should have left before we arrived, I had to take 2 trains, 4 flights of escalators to get to my flight. On my last flight to Spokane, a guy who sat behind me literally never shut his mouth. Ever. But I made it without killing him, or even being rude. I pulled into the in laws house at just before 11 pm. I realized I hadn't eaten since Amsterdam. Then I couldn't sleep. I eventually did, and thus ended the longest day of all time. Now I just have a 2 1/2 hour drive home. I hope I don't fall asleep. If I do, all my gifts for everyone are in the smaller black bag. Got it?

Discoveries

This intrepid traveler has discovered many interesting facts about Ireland. The first, is that you take your life in your hands when you go jogging/walking on narrow winding roads at dusk. Especially if there is a steep bank on either side of the road filled with nettles. It's all trails for me from now on. It was a breath-taking walk though.
Another is that a majority of the people here are, let's just say, on the petite side. I could seriously be a pro wrestler here. I could call myself Amazonia. There could really be a future for me here. Kim assures me that all the men that I see that look to be lighter than 115 lbs are not indeed Irish. All the Irishmen at that time of day would be in the pub. This leads me to my next discovery.
There are tons of Polish people here. The Polish people are slightly resented because they flood the workforce here and work really hard, then send the money back home. Sounds familiar, huh? It was so much fun to peruse the aisles of the grocery store, eavesdropping on all the conversations in Polish. I only remember a few phrases, so unless they were saying they had to pee, I wouldn't be able to understand them. I did make me homesick for Poland, though.
Look at the teensy carton of milk! Not a gallon in sight.
One sister for sale! Did we look like dorks to all the Polish shoppers? Yep.
My mom was a Kerr, so I thought these potatoes were cool.
Look at how bright and clean the carrots are! The produce was so fun to look at, each little container was from a different place in the EU. Cherries were from Greece, blueberries from Poland, parsnips from Spain.... Look, I'm a professional grocery shopper back home. Could I resist the lure of the local store? Indeed not!
Want to know something cool? Everything is in English AND Gaelic. Britain was ruthless at trying to homogenize Ireland. Now Gaelic is required for every school child. Way to stick it to the Man, Ireland!
We're heading into the countryside for a road trip to Limerick today, so get ready for lots of pictures of pastoral fields, cottages and sheep. I can't wait!!!