33

[Niall Munnelly]

Today was my first birthday in Ireland since I was four.
For my birthday, I got pleurisy, or something.

It's never freezing in Kerry like it is in New York, Chicago
or, presumably, Goteborg, but the relentless rain keeps you
cold and damp all day.  The cuffs of your pants, shoes and
coats never really dry, and there's a clammy chill on the
back of your unprotected neck to send you running back
inside to start a fire and drink gallons of tea.  Taking the
dogs down to the wind-whipped beach takes twenty minutes'
preparation, looking for scarves, hats, anything to keep the
ocean spray and roaring rain from soaking your skin.

So, I'm chuffed for the hand-me-up from my Kid Brother, a
pair of steel toed Docs a size too large for him, and the
hot ports he made for me when he visited.  Herself scored
two bottles of Porterhouse Brewing's Celebration Stout,
which I thought I'd never get to try {it's not as good as
the many outstanding double stouts brewed in the US, but
it's definitely the best Irish beer I've had}.

Maybe the best thing I got was this {warning, Flash}:

http://www.kongcompany.com/worlds_best.html

It looks like a massive butt-plug.  My older brother bought
these for his dogs years ago; they're spend hours trying to
lick peanut butter out of the toy.  Ignatz, the Jack
Russell, isn't a chewer and has no interest in what's inside
the Kong - all he wants is for you to throw it as hard as
you can, so he can fetch it and not give it back.  If you
have a long tarmac drive, like I do, then it's the dog's
bollocks.  Throw it as hard as you can, and the irregular
shape makes the bounces nigh-impossible to predict.  After
half an hour, you have a sore arm but the world's happiest
dog.

Then make a hot port according to your brother's recipe, sit
on the couch for awhile with your lady, and enjoy the
tentative life you've created, silently thanking your Ma, until
you start hacking like an old miner again.

Alright.
-- 
Yours,
Niall.
.. .  .   .    .     .       .           .             .                 .
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