When we were in Ireland, Eric and I kidnapped Jordan and Aaron for a day and took them to Johnstown Castle and Kilmore Quay. We had the best time, and they were good sports indulging my auntie kisses. I love those funny, sweet boys!
This is what greeted me on my brother-in-law's blog on the 18th. I can't wait to see these four in a few weeks. Almost the whole family is coming out, with the exception of Leigh (I'll miss you Leigh). The well-wishers below, Aaron, Jordan, Lauryn, and Nathan are all awesome kids, and we are going to have such a fun time with them.
Yes, it was my birthday during the week. Eric and I had a wonderful meal in Kokkari. I was going to have a little friend gathering today for pints of Guinness, but then I thought I would prefer to have a day in the studio. I don't need to have a party every year!
So we are at the studio right now having a very productive day. I did a painting of a narwhal (what a strange creature). We had a visit from Victoria to plan a event we're doing together. We're really excited about it, so stay tuned.
P.S. I know I've been a lame blogger. You can blame Facebook, Twitter, and general laziness!
And here is my other grandfather, my dad's father, holding me when I was a wee tot. (Both my grandfathers were John, and both my grandmothers were Mary.)
He died when I was about three, but I do have one memory of sitting on a flatbed cart pulled by a horse on the family farm in County Kerry. I didn't like sitting near the horse's tail, because it would swish at me, and my grandfather lifted me and moved me back a bit.
Memory is weird though. It could be that my mom or dad told me that story and I think it's a memory.
Here is another old photo. This is my mom's father, my grandfather. Photographic evidence that he liked motorcycles too. He was a policeman - garda in Ireland - so maybe this was a police bike.
Here is what I remember about him: He drove a green car. He was tall and quiet and kind, with big hands that trembled when he poured tea from their dented tin teapot. He smoked a pipe, carving the tobacco from a block of solid stuff he kept on a breadboard in the pantry, along with a short blackened knife he had specifically for the purpose.
He played golf with my grandmother, and once I ran after the ball he hit and brought it back to him. I didn't know why they both got so mad at me.
I asked him what a cannibal was, and he said "someone who eats people," which drove me wild with curiosity, but he wouldn't go into further detail.
I was 18 when he died. I ended up with his big leather wallet, which I used for years - until my purse was stolen from a pub in Dublin in 1989.
I came across this photo the other day. It's me and my niece Leigh. She's 20 now, so this must be about 13 or 15 years ago. We were always so thrilled with each other when I would come back to Ireland for a visit. This makes me miss her. Hello Leigh. Write your favorite aunt a letter once in a while, won't you?