Kristin Bair O'Keeffe: Writer. Mom. Teacher. Traveler.

They Freed the Plum Pudding!!!!!

Last week, my husband and I got word that our family in Ireland had sent the annual Christmas basket of goodies, including, of course, plum pudding! Whoo-hoo!!!!

Then we got word that the Customs Dept in China was holding it for investigation.

Boo! Boo! (the crowd goes mad!)

And THEN we got word that they weren't going to release it until...what?

• First, an investigation into the contents. (cookies, brandy butter, plum pudding, Christmas cake...yum)

• Second, completion of an official (rather lengthy) form...in Chinese. (Shout out to the secretary at my husband's office for filling it in for us!)

• Third, cash. (Yup, knew that one was coming, didn't ya?)

So, after the Customs folks cracked open the beautiful box in which the goods were packed (and I mean cracked!), studied the contents, received the form, and yup, palmed the cash, we got the goods delivered!

So a big thanks to everyone in Ireland. Makes China feel a little homier at the holidays.

Here's a little peek...

 

Stop Right There! (back in Westport, Ireland)

I took this photo in Westport, Ireland. It cracks me up.

Technorati Tags: Kristin Bair O'Keeffe, Shanghai, China, Ireland, Westport, signs

The Buxom Pirate-tess in Westport, Ireland: What Do Girls Think?

Back in May when we were in Ireland, Andrew, Tully, and I headed to Westport (a charming little town appropriately located on the west coast) for a few days of quiet time. One afternoon we went to a park that also featured a small amusement park (actually a wee amusement park with four or five rides and a bouncy castle).

The park had recently adopted a "pirate" theme for the amusement rides. "Cool," we thought. "Tully will like pirates."

Well, this (see below) was the (ONLY) pirate placed in strategic spots throughout the park.

Obviously this lovely, buxom pirate-tess provided a grand distraction for the fathers being led around by their kiddos, but what do eight-year-old girls learn from this ridiculous display?

How to be a cool pirate?

How to have a sense of adventure?

How to enjoy being different?

Or simply how to aspire to huge breasts? How to look sexy (even when you have to fight off enemies with swords)?

The sad thing was, the park is on the grounds of the home of a REAL Irish woman pirate. What an opportunity they have to inspire girls and share cool stories.

Instead...this.


Technorati Tags: Kristin Bair O'Keeffe, China, Ireland, expats, travel, Tully

How Happy Was Tully in Ireland?

So, so happy...

Loved the trampoline!

Even when she fell.

And loved being with her older cousins.

And being with Mom and Dad at Fore (a crumbling abbey).

Ah, the green...

And finally...the dance series. (Tully's quite the dancer...no matter where she is.)

Technorati Tags: Kristin Bair O'Keeffe, Ireland, Tulliver, Tully, Travel, Expat

Home Again, Home Again: But Can I Sleep Yet?

It's 2:14 a.m. Night #2 with jet lag. Tully finally asleep after hours of restless crying. Suffering his own jet lag stupor, Andrew spilled a bowl of cereal on the bed (his side, thankfully). Want to sleep, but can't. Made my grocery orders for the week and emailed them in. Checked in on all the blogs I read. Played popword. Read a few pages of the new Oprah magazine that I bought at the Amsterdam airport for something like $353.55. Drank three glasses of water. Changed my wall calendar from May to June. Ran my software update.

What else can I do to pass the wee hours?

Hhhmmm...could download the 2,673,228 photos I took of Tully in Ireland...but that would mean getting up from my desk for my camera.

Maybe time for bed.

Cute Photos of Tully on My Facebook Page

Friend of mine on Facebook?

If so, check out the new photos of Tully on my Facebook homepage.

If not, friend me.

Frozen in Westport, Ireland

I love Ireland. I love the green. I love the rolling hills. I love, love, love the black-faced sheep frolicking on the green rolling hills. I'm a great fan of crumbling castles. My heart melts when I see one of the few remaining sod-roofed houses surrounded by a stone wall.

Tractors?

Love 'em.

Sad-eyed cows?

Bring 'em on.

But for Pete's sake, why does it have to be so bloody cold?

And if you're thinking of answering this rhetorical question, don't. I don't want logic, a geography lesson, or a lecture about wearing the right clothes. The plain truth is, Ireland is f'ing cold. It might as well be winter. The other night it was 5 degrees. FIVE degrees!!!!! (That's something like 41 degrees Fahrenheit!)

Ugh. Ggrr. Bah humbug. It' s June!

Thank god I brought my sleeping hat.

But aside from turning into a popsicle, the trip is grand. This morning, Galway (in the cold, lashing rain); this afternoon, a warm hotel room in Westport.

And this afternoon, a swim in the pool with Tully and Andrew. I haven't swam in SO long. Like swam, swam. Not splashed or frolicked, but swam. Lengths. Back and forth. Freestyle. Backstroke. Freestyle. Backstroke.

But today I left Tully in Andrew's splashy care and did a dozen or so lengths. Not a lot, but they felt good. And they reminded me of my first days in Shanghai in 2006, when I swam every morning and chanted as I stroked, "Baby. Book deal. Baby. Book deal." And here I am, three years later, with both of my dreams realized: Tully and Thirsty. Amazing.

Manifest. Manifest. Manifest.

Cows, Ciaras, and Diet Coke

Reporting live from the lobby of the Bloomfield House Hotel in Mullingar, Ireland...

Popped in here for 30 minutes to check email, post a blog entry, drink a diet coke, and surprisingly, get out of the scorching sun.

Scorching sun?

Yep. Since our arrival Ireland has been experiencing an unprecedented blast of heat. It's lovely. The fair ones here (meaning almost every Irish lass and lad in sight) are burned to a crisp, and Buckley's (a local supermarket) had a run on sunscreen so that yesterday there were only six or so bottles left (and nothing above SPF 6).

Most likely, it won't last. Already today there's a wee chill in the air that brings a hint of weather to come, but for now, the barbecue is lit and we're ducking under trees to find a bit of shade.

More to report?

Tully now says "Mmmmmm" when asked, "What does the cow say?" which is actually a much more accurate representation of the sound a cow makes than the traditionally touted "Moooo." Thus her brilliance continues.

Tonight there's a mass at Delvin parish for Andrew's father who passed away a number of years ago. Andrew will be attending, but I'll stay at the house with Tully (who will be crashed out for the night). Lots of relatives heading this way for the mass, so another festive late evening O'Keeffe barbecue to come.

And earlier this afternoon, we went to our nephew Shane's elementary school for a picnic. Being the only American in sight, I drew a large crowd of lively, intelligent, inquisitive Irish girls who wanted to know everything from "Have you been to Hollywood?" to "Are the dumplings good in China?" Tully, too, took center stage, charming all with her smile and her sparkly soul. The kid loves attention; surround her with fifteen Irish girls who want to cuddle, play, and make her giggle...and call it heaven.

That's all for now

On the Ground! in the Land of Scholars and Saints (and the O'Keeffes)

Flight from Shanghai to Amsterdam?

Flight time = apprx. 11 hours; Tully slept for 45 minutes.

Flight from Amsterdam to Dublin?

Flight time = 1.5 hours; Tully slept for 30 minutes.

1st night in Ireland?

Tully woke at 4:00 a.m. Andrew and I woke at 4:00 a.m.

* * *

But sleep?

Overrated when you've landed in a green, lush country during the warmest weekend on record where the sky is blue and nobody kicks you off the fields.

Despite the jetlag--which is causing the Tullser to nap at unusual times (like three hours after initially waking)--it's glorious.

The thing I notice most?

How quiet it is.

Sssshhhhhh...

And how quiet it is--as a result--in my noggin.

So although I grudgingly decided not to bring my computer along on this trip AND decided I would not work, I feel the muse taking hold. I'm jotting notes on my left hand, which is always a good sign.

And off I go, to the farm...to introduce Tully to her grandmother.

To Ireland We Go...

If, of course, I manage to get my own clothes packed.

I spent most of the day organizing Tully's stuff. Then the Tully diaper bag...which has to contain all the necessities for around the world travel: enough diapers, wipes, emergency changes of clothing (which we needed two months ago in Thailand when Tullser spit up all over herself after a very wind-y taxi ride to the airport), binkies, tissues (especially important right now because T has a cold and is a snot factory), animal crackers, Cheerios, a blanket, formula, bottles, food, and so on). I'm pretty sure this is going to be our heaviest bag. I need a mule to move it.

Now it's 7:52 p.m. and I just feel like lying down on my bag on the bed and staring at the ceiling. I don't even feel like brushing my teeth or washing my face. I'm bushed. But first, decisions.

To take my computer to Ireland or not.

The thing is, we aren't going to be staying in places that offer wifi. Andrew's brother's farm--no wifi (at least not last year).

See, I can blog from Andrew's computer, but I can't upload photos from it. So yes, I'll be blogging, but without photos. Two entire weeks of text posts. No pictures of black-faced sheep. No pictures of Tully's first encounter with a cow. No pictures of crumbling castles.

But the thing is, I kind of need a vacation from this keyboard. Yes, I have buttloads of work to do on the marketing for Thirsty and the second book and a gazillion other projects, but I need a break.

A break is okay, right?

So that's it.

Decided.

No photos for two weeks.

(unless I can get some of the O'Keeffes to send them directly to Andrew's computer....hhhhmmmm).