Tag Archives: Ireland

The Gift of the Gab. Or the Gift of Something.

It’s funny that I wanted so desperately to kiss a giant stone that would give me the gift of the gab, since, you know, I have been gabbing here several-times-weekly for almost nine years. Shutting up doesn’t really seem to be a problem that I suffer from, but, well, it’s just one of those things. How could I come home and tell people that I went all the way across the pond and not only did I not partake in any tripe or black and white pudding, I didn’t kiss the Blarney Stone either?!

Toronto Nosebleeds Brown Bread: A New Tradition

I made my own bread this week. It’s okay. I have no idea who I am anymore either.  An Irish highlight for me was waking up each morning on our trip and no matter where we had slept the night before—in a bed & breakfast in Cork, looking out at…

Irish Giggling Is Still Giggling, Right?

I’m sitting at my desk right now, giggling my fool head off. And no, it’s not because of the German in the speedo who jumped on the ice. Well, maybe it is a wee bit. Mein arsch! But mostly it’s because, like out of some sort of romcom, my life…