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.

Souvenirs from Universal Studios, Orlando

Studly Doright and I were in Orlando, Florida, on Monday and Tuesday this week, prior to flying to Shannon, Ireland, on Wednesday. He had meetings to attend, while I had some time on my hands. Monday I treated myself with a trip to one of the outlet malls, but on Tuesday I decided it was high time I visited The Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal Studios. 


I walked all the way back to where the map indicated Harry Potter’s world would be. I saw the bus, and I  took a selfie in front of #12 Privet Drive, but I was confused. Where was Diagon Alley? I walked all the way around the area, but was stymied. Was this all there was? 

I’m such a Muggle, but on a hunch I walked through a nondescript opening in an unmarked brick wall, and voila! 


Diagon Alley! Honest, one can’t see this opening from the area where the triple decker knight bus and Privet Drive are, even though they’re just a few feet away. How wonderfully magical to be forced to stumble onto it! 





Butter beer is pretty damned tasty; although, there’s no actual beer in it. Drat. 


I ogled the newest Firebolt model:


By far the longest line in Diagon Alley was formed outside the wand store. I spoke with a little girl who was still giddy that the wand she purchased had chosen her. I was tempted to join the queue, but I’ll wait until I can bring my grandkids. And a wand in my hands might not be a good idea. I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good. 

So, what were my souvenirs? 

A pair of scraped palms, and a skinned knee.


I fell, having failed to realize that the curb was about five inches higher than my bifocal lenses led me to believe. Fortunately a couple of young men rushed to my aid, and helped me to my feet. The part that’s the most injured is my pride. It could’ve been much worse, so I’ll take my lumps as a renewed call for caution. 

Packing Hell

 

I’m trying to pack for an eight day trip to Ireland with a two day stay in Orlando prior to the flight.  So, ten outfits should do the trick, right? Then would someone tell me why I’ve packed a carry on bag to full capacity along with a suitcase the size of Delaware, and I’m still wondering if I’m taking enough along.


Studly Doright’s side of the large suitcase contains exactly one pair of shorts or pants for each day and a complementary shirt, along with an equal number of underpants and pairs of socks. He’s not even taking a carry on bag; although, he will have his golf bag in tow. 


I’m stressing out, but I found this message tucked in with the packing humor in Pinterest. 


Thank goodness none of the above takes up space in a suitcase. I’m all out.

Peace, people.

Tell Me Two Things

Studly and I have been discussing pop music as we drive the back roads around Doright Manor. Well, I’ve been discussing music while he pretends to listen, just occasionally asking, “What?”

I recently told him that I think the Beatles’ Eleanor Rigby has the finest lyrics of any pop song from the 60’s, perhaps the finest of all time. 

“What?” Studly asks, then after I repeat myself, “Oh, yeah, it’s got a catchy tune.”

“Don’t you even listen to the lyrics?”

“Not really,” he said.

How have I managed to stay married to this man for 40+ years? Oh, I guess there is that crazy little thing called love. 

So, readers, tell me two things: 

1)Which pop song from the last five decades has the best lyrics? 

2)Does your significant other understand what lyrics are?

Eleanor Rigby
The Beatles

Lyrics

Ah look at all the lonely people
Ah look at all the lonely people

Eleanor Rigby, picks up the rice
In the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face
That she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for

All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?

Father McKenzie, writing the words
Of a sermon that no one will hear
No one comes near
Look at him working, darning his socks
In the night when there’s nobody there
What does he care

All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?

Ah look at all the lonely people
Ah look at all the lonely people

Eleanor Rigby, died in the church
And was buried along with her name
Nobody came
Father McKenzie, wiping the dirt
From his hands as he walks from the grave
No one was saved

All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?

Songwriters: John Lennon / John Winston Lennon / Paul Mccartney / Paul James Mccartney

Eleanor Rigby lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Learning to Sleep Again

I overthink everything, even managing to overthink my tendency to overthink. Lately I’ve been overthinking about my inability to sleep. Granted, I do sleep better now than I did a couple of years ago, but there are still many nights when my brain refuses to shut off, nights when I feel like I have twice as many arms as a normal human and none of them can find a comfortable position in relation to my head or torso or legs.

As I engaged in overthinking I realized that part of the problem stemmed from the acres of clothing I seem to wear to bed. My simple nightshirt magically turns into a parachute-sized garment around midnight, and no matter how I turn or twist or reorient my body, it bunches up beneath me. Plus, my pajama bottoms ratchet up to my knees causing my calves to rub together and causing all sorts of unpleasant irritations. 

I liken my dilemma to that of the princess and the pea. No matter how small the annoyance, it becomes a boulder as I ache for sleep. 

I tried sleeping in the nude, but none of my body parts like touching each other. They need their own space, little divas that they are. Ideally, I should be allowed to sleep like a starfish taking up the entire bed; however, Studly Doright wouldn’t have a spot, and since he pays the rent I can’t very well shoo him away.

And honestly, I’m a side sleeper. Fetal position works best, but again, those darned body parts come into play. What I need is a mummy wrap. But then I’d get too hot, or I’d have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I can picture me in the throes of a hot flash or doing the potty dance, trying to unwind my wrappings as quickly as possible, and ultimately failing. 

So today I bought a sleep bra, and tonight I’m going to pair it with a pair of yoga pants. There’ll be no excess material to speak of, and just maybe I can prevent my arms from coming into contact with each other. I wonder how a straight jacket might work? 

Anyway, wish me luck. Better yet, wish me sleep. 

Peace, people.

Pretty Dress Blues

I bought a blue dress,
Fits me like a glove,
Blue lace over silk,
So what’s not to love?

I’ve got those low down, pretty dress blues.

Dress hangs in my closet,
Beside five pairs of jeans,
It looks out of place there,
You know what I mean!

I’ve got those low down, pretty dress blues.

I bought shoes to match
That pretty blue dress,
They’re silver and sexy,
Will I wear them? No guess.

I’ve got those low down, pretty dress blues.

I’ll pack that nice dress
Maybe wear it one night
Shock my dear Studly,
I’ll be such a sight.

I’ve got those low down, pretty dress blues!

(I did buy a dress and heels. Now, whether I wear them in public is a different matter. I’m such a committed blue jean girl, and dresses have a way of bringing out all my insecurities. But, I’m taking this thing to Ireland in hopes that an occasion will call for a dress and heels.)

Took Me Long Enough!

I posted my first piece on July 10, 2014, and voila! It only took me nearly three years to reach the 1,000 follower mark. Oh, and if you add in my follower numbers from Facebook (468), Tumblr (78), and Twitter (237), it’s still fairly dismal, especially considering that many of those are folks who follow me on more than one platform. 

So why do I continue? I asked Studly Doright, my husband of forty plus years why he thought I continued writing in spite of my low followership. He said, “I dunno. Because you’re a masochist?”

So there you go! And if you’re a follower, thanks for being here! I love each and every one of you. Yes, even you. 

Peace, people!

Snapshot #183

Today’s snapshot is of a collection of photos taken on our recent visit to DisneyWorld in Orlando, Florida. Studly and I joined his sister, Angie and her family for a couple of days of their vacation. Angie took some of the photos that Studly and I were in and had them made into a collage for us. 

Neat idea, right? I call this one, “Family Fun.” Many thanks to Angie, Steve, and their kids for asking us to tag along.