The leaves up north were a-flame. Entire yards were completely covered in a blanket of sodden fiery yellow leaves. The streets were canopied over with blazing red, or deep purple. Colors to take your breath away. Wet hillsides, raging with color, low grey skies above.<\/p>\n
There was a river down the street … a raging tumultuous river … catapulting itself down from the mountains … filling the air with its chaotic sound. We went down there at night to look, shivering in our sweatshirts, teeth chattering, staring down at the foamy madness. Beautiful.<\/p>\n
Cashel wore a bright orange hunter’s cap.<\/p>\n
\nThe telescope gift was somewhat eclipsed (pun intended) by the deluxe Star Wars lego set.<\/p>\n
I mean, please.<\/p>\n
How could we compete with the Lego construction of the chamber where Han Solo was frozen up – complete with small carbonized Han figure (face screwed up in agony) and an actual chain which lifted Han’s chamber up and down?<\/p>\n
We did all huddle in the yard at night, with black clouds crossing over the half-moon, each taking turns with the telescope.<\/p>\n
It truly was spectacular.<\/p>\n
The craters were so clear, so vivid, you felt that you could reach out and touch them. Magnificent. Awe-inspiring. Makes one feel teeny-teeny-teeny, and yet also rather enormous, because, after all, one belongs to the race of beings who actually sent men up there!!<\/p>\n
Cashel informed all of us, “We put men on the moon – but nobody has gone beyond the moon!”<\/p>\n
He loved Apollo 13<\/i>. I held him in my arms, while we waited for a turn at the ‘scope, and discussed some of the issues in the film.<\/p>\n
Cashel had to make sure I knew that the REAL STORY of Apollo 13<\/i> is that everything turned out ALL RIGHT. Yes, there was a near-disaster, yes, it was scary, yes, it was bad – “But they came home safe, Aunti Sheila! They came home safe!”<\/p>\n
Yes.<\/p>\n
We will not dwell on the negative, Cashel. They came home safe.<\/p>\n
Oh, and speaking of “coming home safe” – the Aunties broke down in the car, not 10 minutes after getting on the road – at the beginning of our long journey.<\/p>\n
It was 7 am.<\/p>\n
A rattling sound grew and grew and grew – until suddenly – Auntie Jean lost control of the wheel – the steering belt had snapped, apparently – and calmly cruised us over to the side of the road. Where we sat for a bit.<\/p>\n
Then came much improvising, many calls on cell phones, much discussion – much being on hold … Triple A … trying to come up with a Plan B – as cars hurtled by to our left.<\/p>\n
Triple A man showed up within 20 minutes. Looked under the hood and immediately saw the snapped belt. He towed the car to Auntie Jean’s garage — with the 3 of us pig-piled on top of each other in his truck with him. Lucky man. The three of us were pretty much in a barely controlled state of hysterical laughter. Siobhan realized at one point that she was literally holding onto Jean’s thigh with a death-grip, as we went around corners, and I realized at one point that I was gripping onto Siobhan’s fur collar, with my own death-grip, during corners.<\/p>\n
We basically needed a ride to the rent-a-car place in the next town and so who you gonna call? Friend Beth.<\/p>\n
Too funny – after Beth dropped us off at the car place, I said, “Thank you SO MUCH, Beth – Thank you SO MUCH” – and as she slid back into the driver’s seat, she called back, “Oh, no problem. I know I’ll get a mention in the blog for this.”<\/p>\n
We ROARED.<\/p>\n
Later in the weekend, Jean said to me something like, “I don’t want THIS to go in the blog, okay??”<\/p>\n
Ha ha ha<\/p>\n
Finally: we picked up a rent-a-car, stopped and got some coffees, and were on our way, a couple of hours off schedule, which meant we would miss Cashel’s party. Which made us sad.<\/p>\n
We BLASTED music as we drove.<\/p>\n
Charlie’s Angel soundtrack. White Stripes. Eminem. A mix Siobhan made for Jean – awesome stuff: Johnny Cash, and others.<\/p>\n
Further and further north … into the hills, the mountains, the streets crowded up with trees, lakes off to the left, lakes off to the right, reflecting the silver sky, surrounded by this blazing gold – purple – red.<\/p>\n
A family weekend.<\/p>\n
Star Wars. Blueberry pancakes with chunks of butter.<\/p>\n
Cashel does not like the butter to melt. As a matter of fact, he once ordered me, when I was making him toast, “Put the butter on so I can see <\/i>it!” He actually called this to me from another room. Hilarious. We were laughing about it this weekend, and I said, “Suddenly, his voice sounded like Ray Charles’ voice or something.” Brendan said, “Well, that would be really<\/i> interesting – for Ray Charles to tell you to put the butter on where he can see<\/i> it.”<\/p>\n
Hm. Good point.<\/p>\n
The Aunties all piled onto Cashel’s bed with him, and tag-team read him a story.<\/p>\n
(A terribly written story … whatever it is. We kept making faces to each other, behind the book, so Cashel couldn’t see.)<\/p>\n
Cashel was leaning up against Auntie Siobhan, laughing, and happy. In his little pjs.<\/p>\n
My heart hurts!! I feel like I could never be a parent because my love is too much<\/i>.<\/p>\n
A beautiful full weekend.<\/p>\n
Flaming foliage, Cashel’s happy face, raging river, endless cups of coffee, my parents smiling, uproarious laughter. Tears of laughter. Laughter that HURTS.<\/p>\n
Oh, and to my little 6-year-old brave boy, here is my blessing for you:<\/p>\n
(Do I have any fluent-in-Irish readers<\/b>?? Oxblog Patrick? Do you? <\/a> The translation of this may be very rough – I pieced it together on my own)…<\/p>\n A blessing (Beannact) for Cashel:<\/p>\n Go nueire an Bothar leat. Well. I hope that says what I THINK it says.<\/p>\n It’s the Irish Blessing. I just like the way it sounds better in Irish…<\/p>\n Blessings on you, my sweet little nephew, from Auntie Sheila.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The leaves up north were a-flame. Entire yards were completely covered in a blanket of sodden fiery yellow leaves. The streets were canopied over with blazing red, or deep purple. Colors to take your breath away. Wet hillsides, raging with … Continue reading
\nGo raibh an ghaoth go Brach ag bo chul.
\nGo lonrai an ghrian go te ar aghaidh
\nGo dtite an bhaistead go min ar do phairceanna.
\nAgus go mbuailimid le cheile aris
\nGo geoinni Dia i mbos A Laimhe Thu.<\/p>\n