I gots new stamps in my passport and euros in my pocket

Found two people to watch the dog, and one to feed the cat and we're off to Ireland and Italy for 10 days! John and I got back early this morning from a whirlwind trip to [in order of visit], Goose Bay, Labrador, Canada; Dublin, Ireland; Rome and Florence, Italy. My first trip to Goose Bay and to Italy. His first to all of the above although he's been to Hugary and South Korea with Habitat for Humanity. Gotta love a guy who can build houses internationally.

have to turn back and land at Goose Bay Canada...nearly to Greenland. We spend a glorious 15 hrs in Goose Bay being fed, playing Uker, not showering, and then head on to Ireland after the issue has been repaired and we're cleared so we took off from DC on Saturday afternoon [4/15] and were supposed to land in Dublin at 8:30 a.m. the next day. However, as we're over the Atlantic, there's a brief electrical fire and we to fly again. One day later [we land in Dublin at 8:30 a.m. on Monday], we're back on track. We go to the hotel, have some breakfast, get a cup of tea, cavort with the locals [trying to understand the accented English they're speaking] and then check into the hotel, take a shower and nap [in that order] and head back out to the Jameson factory to take a tour, and more importantly a tasting, of Irish whiskey. Then its off to dinner at the Brazen Head tavern, one of the oldest in Dublin and a requisite Guinness. That's about enough for one day...bed time.
Day two [4/18]
The next day we head out to see St. Patrick's and then the Guinness Storehouse tour...the latter is loads of fun. Suffice it to say that we drank our way through Dublin. We had dinner that night at a great Nepalese place, Monty's of Kathmandu in Temple Bar. Great food.
Day three [4/19]
We head out for Rome today but before we leave Dublin, I'm on a quest for Irish knitwear from the Sweater Shop. Mission accomplished and we get a cab from St. Stephen's Green to the airport and catch our flight to Rome. We flew Ryanair, which makes Southwest Airlines look luxurious. They load the plane from the front AND the back to cram as many people on in the shortest amount of time possible. We land at Ciampino airport in Rome and look for a man holding a sign with either John or my last name [Murray or Churches, for those who don't know]. John's friend Dave has generously arranged to have a car pick us up at the airport so we don't have to hassle with a taxi [neither of us knowing (a) Italian or (b) where we're going]. The driver is holding a sign that says "John Murrae" and its close enough. We hop in the car, hold on to our seats, and enjoy the ride into Rome via the old Appian Way, passing all sorts of old [1,000 years +] stuff along the way. We finally arrive at our destination, or at least the car stops long enough for the driver to get out and unload our luggage, so we assume we're at the end of our wild ride. Along the way, we nearly hit a police car, drove down streets barely wide enough for the car and made so many twists and turns, I think we're being kidnapped. We find Dave and head to his apartment to drop off luggage, freshen up and head to dinner (pizza) at Da Buffeto [means "mustache" in Italian] and beer. Great first night in Rome.

I'll post more photos and continue the "journey" later...a side trip to Florence and a "football" game with AS Roma. Stay tuned.

In Which Poppi Explains A Hip Replacement To A Fairly Bright Eleven-Year-Old

Garrett recieves a fat envelope containing a letter written in pencil on sheets of drawing paper. He is entranced by the drawings, the explainations and the wry humor. I'm either lucky or selective: I have no men without a sense of humor in my life, though I hear that they exist.

We're winding down the spring semester, gearing up for summer madness. The good news is that I just discovered a dog-sitter, and so can travel with impunity, if I can dig my impunity out of whatever closet it's been buried in these many moons.

I just finished my third screen. I’ve been taking a class in screen painting, which is as close as Baltimore gets to a native folk-art form. Tradition dictates a landscape of some sort, usually with a cottage worked in, usually red, and water, in the form of a pond, lake, or stream. Beach scenes are not preferred. Naturally, I had to turn the idea on its head and my first screen, the one for my front door, was a take on Picasso's Femme a la Fleur. Then nothing would do but window screens for my bedroom, and the childrens'. I let the kids select from a book of Matisse. They chose Icarus. Hawk preferred Miro’s Daybreak to his Woman In Front of the Sun. Unfortunately, I realized after becoming attached to these images that the screens in question were horizontal, not vertical. So I adapted the paintings, rather than my plan.

Maybe when Cory gets back from Mozambique and Guam, or wherever she is, she'll take pictures of my house and post them. Because I am still a techno-tard and can’t do it on my own, plus that whole I-don t-have-a-digital-camera-and-there-are-so-many-to-choose-from-that-even-shopping-for-one-is-intimidating thing.

My sister the athlete will be competing, but I look forward to meeting new people and drinking bubbly wine at my cousin's wedding in June. It occurs to me that I have not spent any quality time with my cousin since we've reached the age of majority, and have thus missed out on serious drinking-together time. Which I hope to remedy. I will participate in barhopping, and I will drink! With impunity!

Well, provided I can find my impunity.