Crafty Souvenirs

'Member when I headed to Ireland with my family?

 We brought back many fond memories,

but something we didn't bring back was a lot of kitschy souvenirs.

However, we did have a big ole bag of maps and pamphlets.

What to do?

Well, one thing I always make is a Christmas ornament for my kids.

And so when I saw this Pin on Pinterest...

...I though, woo hoo!

I used the die cut at work,

cut poster board for the center,

and chose pamphlets from the places the kids loved best.

The Glendeer Petting Zoo was for The Girl...

... and the Coach House for The Boy.

But there was still A LOT of maps and pamphlets left.

Then I realized, they would make terrific pennants!

So I got out my rotary cutter and ruler...

... cut them into pennant shapes....

... and strung them up to decorate my new guest room.

I love it!

So much more meaningful than a "Kiss Me, I'm Irish" beer mug.

Just What Did I Learn, Anyway?

DAY TWELVE

It was time to head back home.

The flight was loooong, but all through the daylight,

so our brains were tricked into thinking we didn't need sleep yet.

Although Toronto nicely had a Tim Hortons...

... it also sent The Girl back through layers of check-in

because she had some duty-free booze.

(But nicely.)

When we finally made it back to our hometown,

 I suggested that we swing through the Scottish Restaurant,

because although I'm no fan, I knew the others would enjoy it.

And even I couldn't resist the siren song of their fries.

***

Looking back,

we decided that while Rick Steves' guidebook was invaluable

 for choosing the cities to stay in...

... almost all our most memorable times were at smaller places we chose or found ourselves:

the stone rings at Tullahought, with our doggy guides...

... the Glendeer Petting Farm...

  

... the Dublin Pride Parade.

So I recommend being flexible when it comes to choosing where to go.

Also?  

Tell yourself you're coming back to see the things you missed,

so you don't go crazy, trying to cram everything in.

I know I'd like another go with my favorite travelling companion.

Who You Callin' A Hore?

DAY FOUR

It was time to leave Inistioge and head to County Kerry.

The road was soon a blessed two lanes...

... as we made our way to our midday pit-stop, the Rock of Cashel.

It should be noted that in the tiny cafe at the foot of the Rock of Cashel 

we had our first contact with a group of...

well, not Ugly Americans, but certainly Loud Americans.

I was already self-conscious about my American accent,

because while the lovely lilt of the Irish sounded to my ears

as though they should all look like this...

... I, on the other, felt that to them I must appear like this:

So I was glad to escape the din of the cafe and head up the hill to the castle.

And this was a CASTLE.

I could feel the agreeable weight of history.

I love this picture of me.

 It looks like a still from some USA Network procedural  named "Coldstone."  

(There would be tie-ins with Coldstone Creamery, natch.)

I'm a psychic, but I can only get a reading whilst among historical sites.

(So there's an educational element to it.)

 I catch the perps with the help of my trusty, fresh-out-of-college assistant;

she majored in history and gives me grief 

for not knowing more about stuff like The War of the Roses.

Aaaaanyway...

As we took photos outside...

... The Sweet Man pointed out the abbey at the bottom of the hill.

"We should go there!  Rick Steves says no one goes there!" he said,

so down the hill we trekked.

To my delight (and The Girl's sighing disgust)

the abbey had a name that lent itself to many juvenile jokes:

(And yes, I'm aware of the irony of my getting huffy about "Loud Americans"

when I can't stop from making jokes like a twelve-year-old boy.)

There were indeed only a handful of people visiting Who You Callin' A Hore Abbey (see?)

and we explored the quiet grounds, snapping pictures.

Look!  A crow!

 There was a tiny, seemingly-abandoned graveyard...

and then, surprisingly, a soldier's grave from 1917 that had been maintained:

  

 The Sweet Man snapped this photo of us...

... which looked, composition-wise, oddly familiar.

Hmmm...

 There we go!

It was time to head out.

After a few hours, we landed at our destination in Gortaleen,  at this place:

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Next Up:

Sheep!  Donkeys!  Baby Goooooats!!

Wee 'Henge and Doggy Guides

DAY THREE

Just about everyone knows about Stonehenge...

... but what a lot of people don't know is that the UK and Ireland are littered

with smaller, less-famous stone circles.

A quick Google search turned up one just twenty minutes away from Inistioge

in Tullahought, so off we went!

As we headed to the trail, three dogs came out of their yards, barking, with tails wagging.

We gave them a friendly"Hey, doggies," then set off.

However, the dogs stayed with us.

And stayed with us.

And stayed with us.

We soon realized that these dogs weren't doing the usual doggy thing...

... but were instead working as doggy tour guides.

Which was fortunate, because sometimes the path looked like this...

and sometimes like this...

but sometimes like this:

However, whenever we got lost, we just looked for the pups.

And look where they brought us!

I'll admit it:  one of the reasons I wanted to see the circle was so that I could recreate

the famous "Stonehenge" scene from Spinal Tap.

 "I think that the problem *may* have been, that there was a Stonehenge monument on the stage that was in danger of being crushed by a dwarf."

And, oh how they danced,

The little children of Stonehenge...

 There were some flowers placed there,

which was a reminder to this smarty-pants American that this was an actual burial site,

and not just a place for her to get her geek on.

The doggies, meanwhile, came up to get their fee (pets, of course)...

and after a final look around...

... we headed back down the hill.

(Technically, the above is from when we went UP the hill, 

but it's a nice photo of The Boy so I'm including it here.)

(My attempt at a family portrait.

Sorry, Girl!  I guess this won't be the Christmas card, after all!)

We headed into Kilkenny, to hit a cafe and bookstore...

Hey!  The Irish are fans of Captain Underpants, too!

...and then we went to Kilkenny Castle.

Which, although satisfyingly "castle-y" on the outside,

was not so much on the inside

as it had been renovated in a Victorian/Georgian/I can't tell the difference style.

The thing is, as an American, about the only castles I see in real life

are those on a miniature golf course.

So when I see a castle, I want it to be a CASTLE,

with damp stone walls and mysterious, blood-like stains on the uneven floor

 and mournful crows cawing on the whatever they call those pointy parts at the top.

"Caw!  Caw!  I'll pluck your eyes out!"

I should have just asked our doggy guides.

They probably could have led me to a more dramatic castle.

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Next Up:

I make many juvenile jokes about a sacred place.