I'm about 44 days behind.

es decir... let's rewind.

31 August 2008 3:32 to 1 September 14:12

As usual I refused to pack until the last possible moment & consequently was still trying to figure out how to get my hockey-bag-of-choice to lose 10 pounds while en route to O'Hare. By some divine leprechaun magic my luggage managed to weigh in at Aer Lingus' exact 80 lb. weight limit and escaped through the carrousel flap with only a slap of a bright-orange 'HEAVY' tag.

The Kaney family (minus my Purdue-d brother) then proceeded to grab a goodbye lunch from the O'Hare food court. The on break-ing tsa agent at the adjoining table graciously pointed out the large knife halfly concealed by a foreign woman standing meters away:

"That type of knife will pass through security if no one sees it," he reassured my already nervous mother.

5 claps for security.

Perhaps the fear-implanting image of the knife... or maybe that I was leaving for a year... inspired the winningest gold-medal family hugs of my lifetime. But before I could catch a glimpse of anyone's tears I lost myself in the security line & continued on to join the rowdy group of 20-something Irish chicos at the Aer Lingus gate.

I arrived in Dublin a whole 5 minutes early and shot off to catch the direct bus into Dublin City Centre as soon as the customs stamp released me.

My 8 hours of Ireland playtime were ticking.

I wasn't particularly tempted to skip into a pub to get sozzled off some scoops by my lonesome for the sake of it being "authentically Irish"

... even if it would be the last time for a while that my hair color wouldn't alienize me in a bar setting.

Instead I opted to keep my feet occupied exploring the humbly overcast streets from O'Connell to Grafton...

stopping for a bench break in St. Stephen's Green...

and lalala-ing over to Trinity College to see the Book of Kells.

---

I don't know if I was expecting to find some deep connection to my Irish heritage in my 8 hour Dublin romp... or perhaps casually bump into my future Irish husband as my grandma (nee McWhiney) has already happily consented to...

...but mmm no such "luck".

Looks like I have to go back with some squidders in the back burner and search for the fellet some other day.

Top dollar.
:)