It's Party Time!!

We had a rather large wedding in the States. It has been about 1.5 months since that incredible day. Jeff was looking through the beautiful photos that my cousin's wife took and said, "Our wedding was so awesome! I want to go back to that day." And he is right. Our wedding weekend was amazing. My aunts and uncles threw us a REMARKABLE rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding, complete with Japanese lanterns, a tent, and Irish dancers. I never could have imagined everything they did for us. It was followed by the most peaceful wedding day in existence. There was no panic. There was no fighting. There were no disasters. At least not around me. My mother put together and planned a beautiful day that we will never forget, and it all went off without a hitch. Neither of us can think of anything that went wrong. Even the rain that we got all weekend caused us to move the location of the ceremony to underneath a lovely tent, and it turned out even better than the original location. It was a magical weekend :)

Unfortunately, because of the distance, cost and time of year, not too many of Jeff's friends and family were able to make the trip. I was honestly surprised that so many of his guests were even able to make it. If the wedding had been here, it would have just been my parents and sister. But because so many people couldn't come for the wedding, Jeff's parents threw a party this past weekend so that everyone could celebrate with us. I had forgotten how my mom had worried about things like the food and the guest list, etc., etc., etc. Suddenly there were concerns of whether the room was big enough and how many people were coming and whether the heating would be enough. Nothing major, but still concerns.

And then the day came. The hotel gave Jeff and I the bridal suite, which was slightly insane. I wish we had thought to take photos before throwing our stuff and gifts everywhere. The shower attacked me with its hot water and I literally had to have someone come up and show me how to get the water temperature down. While I stood there in a robe that was most definitely not one-size-fits-all. And unshaven legs. Interesting note: I wore the other robe the next morning and discovered that they had given us two different sizes. Did they already know that I am a midget and my husband is a bear? And then I put on my fancy dress, and the lovely pearl earrings Jeff gave me for my first birthday as his wife, and walked down the hall to meet my new relatives.

It was a fantastic night! We had a short program with a few beautiful songs and some of the prayers from the wedding ceremony. Of course, when the aunts sang again, I burst into uncontrollable tears and wished I hadn't brushed aside the waterproof mascara as though I wouldn't need it. Who are we kidding?? Makeup carnage! And then I gave a short speech, telling everyone about how this past year I was scared. And I was sad about the Bar. And then one day, I realized that God does everything for a reason. And in this case, the reason was so that I could get to know all of them. Two points is something ridiculous to fail a test by. God had a plan when He gave me that score. That plan was to give me the opportunity to get to know my in-laws better; to keep me from having that "see you next Thanksgiving" type of relationship with them. When I finally realized that, I stopped crying over that stupid test. Then there was a slideshow of photos from the wedding, accompanied by Pee Loon (which might officially be my favorite Hindi song EVAR), and so the crying started again. My face was a disaster.

Everyone danced their socks off to the DJing of Jeff's cousin, Jimmy. I, on the other hand, danced my hot, yet sadistic, 5 inch heels off. They lasted longer than I expected!! We had a surprise guest all the way from Memphis: Elvis! He performed and gyrated and got distracted by the children running around in circles in front of him. And then at the end of the night, he turned back into one of Jeff's uncles. Just like Cinderella. Jeff's aunt, Shirin, made a beautiful (and scrumptious) cake for us, complete with silhouette of Paris's skyline, and my mother-in-law made a rather large batch (or 12) of tasty mini cupcakes. The night ended with my smashing my toes with a chair that I was sitting on and seemed incapable of not sitting on while my foot was underneath it. That was a hot mess. And we all ended up in the residence bar downstairs, singing and playing music, accompanied by drunk randomers, until about 3am.

What a wonderful night it was :)

The Fans Can Make A Difference

A marriage can be like a rugby match: the players are more likely to succeed when they have cheering, supporting fans.

This past weekend was spent in the arms of rugby. My big tall husband plays on a rugby team and they had a game on Sunday. And on Saturday, Munster was playing. Munster is the Irish rugby team that my new family supports. They support them by going to games, near and far. They support them by dressing from head to toe in Munster gear. And they support them by screaming like their lives depend on it. We are a sport-loving family :)

It is often said that it’s hard to beat a team in their home stadium. If you think it’s silly that a change in location can have such a big impact, go to your local team’s next home game. The crowd is intense; the colors are overwhelming; the flags are flying. Literally. They give out huge Munster flags and people wave them while (and this part I didn’t really understand) the team’s song is sung (well, THAT I understand) by a woman with a rather operatic voice (THAT is what I don’t understand. It doesn’t really match with the image of rugby, does it?). It is hard to beat a team that has so much support surrounding it for 80 minutes straight. Needless to say, Munster won. I still don’t understand much about rugby. I get the basics (they’re similar enough to football), and I basically screamed when the people around me screamed. I think I became the butt of a joke when I asked if you could keep the ball if it went into the crowd, but I’m okay with that.

Even when they weren’t playing that well, the fans still supported them. THAT’S the most important part.

I have heard so many people complain about their relationships with their in-laws. Sometimes a mother-in-law inserts herself too much into their lives/marriage. Sometimes a sister-in-law is basically a witch with a B. Sometimes you’re really glad that you live 2,000 miles away and only see each other on national holidays. And then, sometimes, you actually enjoy their company. They are kind people who help you and buy you gadgets and invite you over for dinner. They are people that you look forward to spending time with and who seem to enjoy spending time with you. And this can make a marriage so much stronger.

I really enjoy my in-laws. I still miss my family LIKE CRAZY, but my in-laws help make it a bit more bearable. I am blessed in that they help us. They support us. They wear our colors everyday. They drive me into town to join them in running errands; they help me put together furniture for the house; they invite me out to coffee, and they make me laugh. Our supportive fans will make it so much easier for us to have a strong marriage and to win the game, even when we aren’t playing well.

I wonder if my mother-in-law knows any opera.

Life is Not the Same As the Movies

You know those movies like Boondock Saints or Lock Stock that portray the UK and Ireland and these places on this side of the ocean as the breeding ground for loud, cursing, beat-you-to-a-pulp “tossers” who won’t hesitate to be loud, curse and beat you to a pulp? Well, I’m learning that, not only are we strongly influenced by what we see in the movies but those scenes are not always completely accurate. Shocking on both counts, right?

The other night on our way home from dinner, we stopped at the local petrol station to buy some more briquettes for the fire (since I had used up what we had to decorate the living room). And while my husband was inside, lovingly seeing if they had anymore of their seemingly innocuous but simply decadent and diabetic-coma inducing Bakewell Tarts, a car whipped in front of me, right in front of the door to the station. Before the car had even come to a complete stop, three of its doors flew open. FLEW! Like with wings! Three rather large guys jumped out, loud and cursing, and ran into the store in a manner that one would associate with those stupid movies. The workers, who were pumping gas for their customers like it was 1962 in South Carolina (something I actually liked), looked around, slightly jittery. And I sat there. Wondering why I was even the least bit concerned, I watched the door and waited for my husband to return, hoping it would be without a bloody nose and sans wallet. Well, I wasn’t actually thinking that, but it gets the point across. And instead of seeing him walk out, I saw one of the guys from the car. But he wasn’t as large as I remembered. In fact, it was a kid. He was maybe 13. Why hadn’t I noticed this before? Wasn’t it possible that the guys in the car had to use the restroom? Or were really thirsty? Or were really excited to get some Taytos or bacon waffle crisps (which are just amazing, by the way. Be jealous that they don’t have them in the States)? Why did my mind automatically think they were the beat-you-to-a-pulp guys?

Movies and television have too much influence on us. What I mean by this is that there are so many people who do not travel for whatever reason. Their only knowledge of the world is through the media they ingest. And while I’ve always been open-minded and I like learning about new places and experiencing new things, I am ashamed to admit that movies have had an impact on what I expect from this country. That and my husband telling me that everyone from Dublin is a tosser. Maybe everyone from Dublin IS a tosser. But shouldn’t I let them mug me before I come to that conclusion?

Making and Putting Out Fires, Literal and Not

As a newly married lady, I also take on another 'first' in my life: I no longer live in the sunny state of Florida. After spending 30 years in that fire-pit of a swampland, complaining about the sun and the rain and the ugly brown grass, I now find myself missing it all. I now live in Ireland :)

Today is exactly one week since we arrived back in Ireland. It is also, coincidentally, exactly one month that we have been married. Yay!!! A friend suggested, most likely as a joke, that I start a blog about my year here so that people back home can know what we are doing and what it is like in Ireland. Little did she know, I take most jokes seriously. I also will take any opportunity to write. And to talk about myself. So I'm starting this blog to tell everyone about Ireland. But I think it might also be interesting to add in things that I learn as a married lady. The good and the bad. Shhhh. Don't tell the other half. Wait, secrets. That should probably go on the bad side. And maybe also the good?

Something that has become a necessity to my life here in this rather chilly country is the ability to make a fire. I'm pretty sure I've never built a fire before. I've never HAD to build one! It is very rare that you need one back home, and sadly, I've never been camping. So there I was, on Day Two in a foreign country, alone at home because my husband had to immediately go back to work (Husband! Eek!!). Let's just say that there is NOT an exact science to making a fire, which really sucks for me because I want things to be the same every time. I want there to be instructions and if I do it the way I'm told, then by God, I better have a fire! WRONG.

So far, I have sprayed briquette pieces all over our living room; lost a piece of one of the fireplace tools IN THE FIRE; almost burned myself a number of times, and not been warm. BUT I have refused to give up. The thing about a fire is that once you get it started, you just have to add more coal to it every so often and it keeps burning for as long as you want it to burn. You just need to build a good foundation and then the fire can be sustained for as long as you make the effort to take care of it. And so for the last few days, I've been warm :)

Now let's relate this to a marriage. I'm learning that sometimes it's just not worth it to get your point across. How things make YOU feel is not always the most important part of the argument. Sometimes you need to just let it go and be more aware of how your words are upsetting your spouse. It might seem important to make sure the other person knows exactly when something he/she does upsets you, so that it's not done again in the future. But look at it from another angle: "I don't like it when you do that. Please stop" can sometimes be perceived as, "This is something that is wrong with you." And while it's important to help each other grow as individuals, it's also important not to beat the other person down under the guise of growth. Remember that pain which is unintentionally inflicted is still pain. So instead of pointing out your beloved's faults, perhaps it is better to just tell your spouse how much you love him/her and put out the fire. In the end, I think it will build a stronger foundation for the marriage, and allow it to really become that "fortress of well-being." Once you build a good foundation, the marriage can be sustained for as long as you make the effort to take care of it. And isn't that more important than whether it bothers you that the person leaves crumbs on the counter after making toast?