If memory serves…

Spring is well on its way here, nothing highlights this more than the view from my bedroom window. Not just because the almond trees are in full bloom either. The view first thing in the morning is like something out of Mission Impossible or Oceans 11 or 12 or any one of those ‘big heist’ movies. The scene with the crisscrossing laser beam alarm system. The morning dew highlights millions and millions of silvery strands crisscrossing the top of the grass. It would be quite beautiful if I didn’t know what it meant. Yes siree bob, thousands upon thousands of brand new baby spiders floating on the breezes to seek their fortunes. I have pretty much managed to eradicate them from the house by frequent and injudicious use of spider killing sprays. There is probably a three inch band of death set around the perimeter of the house with additional bands around doors and windows; and that’s just the outside of the house. Every three or four weeks the house gets an interior treatment along exterior leading doors and all the windows. I’m not arachnophobic, I’m arachno-disgusted, which, let’s just face it, amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it. I’m sitting out in ‘my office’, also known as the back porch, warming in the sun like a lizard. The back porch is the only place that has proven to be anti-arachnid resistant…um…meaning I can’t get rid of the spiders here; I lay my perimeter spray just the same as the rest of the house, but the spiders waft in on the breeze and manage to live, neigh, thrive, within the perimeter. The only solution to that would be to drench every square inch of floor and walls with bug spray regularly and let’s face it, that would be just plain crazy. ………………………… Always Blog when you’re drunk….wait…wait, that’s wrong I think… I think it’s supposed to be never Blog when you’re drunk… This is precisely why I didn’t give you all the low down on the St. Pats bash when I got home on Thursday night. Granted, it would have made for a more colorful narrative, but I couldn’t have guaranteed correct spelling and grammar (as if I could do that even sober) and it probably wouldn’t have qualified as PG. Not that I was that drunk, I only had 3 or 4 beers, not like a certain someone I know who shall remain nameless to protect the guilty, but who didn’t quite put in a full days work on Friday. It was like a reunion of sorts, sort of like the bow taken at the end of a play. Well, first in a minor roll was Stacey and her husband Terry (or Todd or Tad or Trevor or something that starts with a T). Stacey has also just been voted onto the board of AIT, she’ll be coordinating adult activities (as opposed to the kids activity coordinator, geez people). Anyway I just met Stacey at the meeting the other day, or so I thought. It turns out that one night when we went out to dinner with Mags and Paula, Mags met Trevor (or Terry…..) while we were waiting to be seated and introduced him and Stacey to us because they were American too. I vaguely remember this event. When they showed up at Killarney, Mags greeted Tad (or Trevor ….) like they were old friends, she re-introduced him to us and that’s when I recognized Stacey. We said hellos and then moved on. Todd (or Tad…) has that frat boy look to him and he was ready to party. Next in slightly bigger role was Dominic. You met Dominic back on March 29th when we met her and her husband Fred. Only in that Blog I introduced her as Nicollette, because I forgot her name. Anyway…Dominic arrived with our friend Claire. When Claire came up to say hello and make the introduction. I recognized Dominic immediately (she has a very distinctive thin face) and said Hi! Then I proceeded to remind her about the night we met. She was impressed with my memory; I did not disclose the fact that I thought her name was Nicolette. It would have ruined the whole second first impression. In other minor rolls were the Frenchman named Patrick who felt he should celebrate St. Pats just because of his name. Boobie introduced me to a British painter named Phil and his violent ‘scandanavian model’ looking girlfriend named Christine. We met Didier who was helping at the bar. He has fabulous English. And of course in a starring rolls were Mags and Boobie. Mags who kept checking in on us to make sure we didn’t run low on beer. She was working the bar with Paula and Roger and Marie and others. And Boobie who introduced us to people and would wave at us periodically from down the street. The good news was that being outside meant that you didn’t arrive home smelling of smoke; though a group near us was smoking something far more pungent than regular cigarettes. The drawback of being outside was that by 10:00 the ‘brick wall’ had seen much traffic and the stream was in full flow (see post from last St. Pats). Unfortunately for the women it’s not so easy; you could fight your way into the bar and reach the back in 30 or 40 minutes only to find that you are the 300th person in line waiting for the one women’s toilet or walk the 2 blocks to the nearest pay toilet. Neither one an ideal solution. So how long you stayed at the party became determined by how long your bladder could hold. Anyway, a good night. I didn’t get many photos though, I’ll post the one good one of Mags and I and a couple of the crowd.

The crowd in the street

Boobie, highlighted just under the Killarney sign.

The crowd at the outside bar service window. That's Rogers car (bar owner) apparently he wasn't aware that last year people stood and sat on the cars in front of the bar.

Two cute girls we saw. No idea who they are.