A Lovely Little Lager

Studly Doright was tired of getting rained on, so instead of venturing out with the group last evening we opted to have dinner in our hotel’s pub, The Punchbowl Bar. 

I perused the beer list and asked about a draft called Crean’s. As luck would have it the barkeep said it was brewed locally in Dingle, and she had one remaining glass with the beer’s name on it. Apparently people steal the Crean’s glasses! I promised I wouldn’t abscond with the bar ware and soon I was sipping this lovely little lager.

It’s a good thing I’m walking a bazillion miles a day or I’d be unable to wear any of the clothes I packed.

Peace, people!

Scenes from Old Head Golf Club

Studly Doright and his golf buddies played the beautiful course at Old Head on Sunday, not far from where the Lusitania was sunk off the coast of Ireland in 1915, having been torpedoed by  German forces. 

The course, according to Studly, featured an abundance of hazards and a flair for the dramatic. All along the fairways signs advised players to abandon any balls that fell too close to the cliffs lest players find themselves tumbling down the rocks into the Atlantic. I’m pleased to report that all eight men returned safely to the clubhouse. 

Lighthouse at Old Head


That’s Studly bringing up the rear. He shot an 81 on this challenging course.


We call ourselves Eight Mire Mná which roughly translates to Eight Great Women.

Sipping Smithwick’s at Old Head

Another fine Irish brew, Smithwick’s, or “Smitticks,” as the locals say, was my pick on the fourth day of our trip. This pint was touted as being the finest in the land by the waiter who took my order. I impressed him with my spot on pronunciation, and told him that beer had become my second language.

Here’s to your health!


A fitting toast for today:

I drink to your health when I’m with you,

I drink to your health when I’m alone,

I drink to your health so often,

I’m starting to worry about my own!

Cheers, y’all!

On the Road to Dingle

Yesterday we dropped the golfers off at Tralee Golf Club and then five of us non-golfers went on a scenic drive to Dromore Point, the westernmost point in Europe, with a stop in the fishing village of Dingle.

It was like driving through heaven.


My photos take forever to upload here, so these will have to suffice for now.

From left: Susan, Geneva, Me, Sheila, Rachel

Pour Me Another

On the third day, let there be Murphy’s! 


I thoroughly enjoyed this beer. It’s got a bit of a sweet taste compared to Guinness, and went down velvety smooth. 

And we toast:

Here’s to a long life and a merry one.

A quick death and an easy one.

A pretty girl and an honest one.

A cold pint– and another one!

Another Day…

Another day, another beer! 

After a day of riding a tour bus and touring the Muckross House near Killarney, several of us found a small pub and enjoyed a locally brewed beer. I had the Killarney pilsner. It was lip-smacking good!


Here’s another Irish toast befitting the occasion:

Irish Quotes

I wish you health, I wish you well, and happiness galore. 

I wish you luck for you and friends; what could I wish you more? 

May your joys be as deep as the oceans, your troubles as light as its foam. 

And may you find, sweet peace of mind, where ever you may roam.

Peace from Killarney, County Kerry, Ireland.

When in Ireland…

When in Ireland, do as the Irish do!


I’m operating on three hours of sleep after a long flight, but managed to down a pint or two of Guinness at a highly recommended pub before our room was ready. Maybe I need to relocate to Ireland. 

Here’s an Irish blessing that seemed appropriate for this momentous occasion:

“When we drink, we get drunk. 

When we get drunk, we fall asleep. 

When we fall asleep, we commit no sin. 

When we commit no sin, we go to heaven. 

So, let’s all get drunk, and go to heaven!”

Travel Games You Cannot Play on an Airplane 

One cannot play the alphabet game, the signs are too far below,

And the license plate game is likewise moot, no cars zip to and fro.

One could play the I Spy game, at least a round or two

Until it’s apparent that the objects in view are limited to just a few.

Name That Tune is out, ’cause other passengers aren’t amused,

When you sing an off key Yellow Submarine and they all feel abused.

So I’ll twiddle my thumbs and wiggle my ears the better to pass the time

Or maybe I’ll write silly poems, some may even rhyme.

Cochlear Implant Update

Wonderful piece by Jan Wilberg at redswrap.wordpress.com

Red's Wrap

I wear this thing on my head. Looking at it now in the photo, it strikes me as enormous, a contraption. I wonder why people don’t just stop in their tracks and ask me what it is. But they never do. It’s like seeing someone with an artificial leg and wanting to inquire about how it works but being compelled to ignore it. What artificial leg? I didn’t see an artificial leg, did you?

This is the receiver (behind my ear) that captures sound that travels through the wire to the round thing (which is actually a magnet) and transmits the signals through my skull to a twin round thing inside my head which then sends the signals along several wires to 22 electrodes hanging out in my cochlea. The electrodes recreate the function of the nerves in my cochlea, sending the sound signals to my brain to be made…

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