MY IRISH LUCK CONTINUES

It was a typical Irish morn, the blue sky, rolling verdant hills and babbling river brooks, all covered in a shroud of mist and dampness as the day began for me. There was a gentle touch, a almost hesitant nudge, no, come to think of it, it was more like a very sharp pointed instrument that awoken me from my slumber, interrupting my dream of wee little leprechauns, at my door, delivering a pizza.

The Little Woman needed her bag, the one that we kept all essentials in when traveling. Yes, it had the restaurant guide, along with other items not as essential, but good to have like: road maps, Bed and Breakfast listings, aspirin, and her book that she reads wherever at whenever the mood moves her. Usually the mood to read hits my wife first thing in the morning, before she got out of bed, before breakfast in the living room, at breakfast, lunch and dinner, while watching TV, and reading the newspapers. However, the Little Woman NEVER reads when giving me orders.

The first order of the day was issued, “Please go out and get the bag. It’s in the car.” “Yes, Dear” so I says, and swing over to the side of this very high, comfortable bed, that sat in the immaculate room, tastefully decorated with fresh flowers, starched linen doilies and country pictures depicting fields of flowers and roads lined with trees. I jump into my trousers, and slip on my sneakers and go out the door. I pass (This is an Irish establishment) pictures of the Guinness stout, Sacred Heart, St. Mary, Jesus praying in the garden, and Saint Patrick himself, plus a lot of dead people who must have been relatives to the owner of this bed and breakfast. Aye, it was a fine array of pictorial display, bejesus. I step out into the chilliness of the early morn, and meander through this beautiful garden, peppered with bushes and flowers of all kinds, with pathways that were covered with vines, as the path wined and twisted this way and that, until I came to my little red car, which was parked next to a pasture.

The morning visibility is nil, I can’t see more than 5 feet in front of me. My car slowly appears in the mist like the Lock Ness monster in Scotland, a little blurry and slowly appearing as the color became redder, and deeper. I get to my door, and open it without much thought. Standing in front of the car, I felt a spooky feeling, like I was being watched silently, by some unseen presence, perhaps passive, but perhaps not. I shrugged off the feeling and bent down as I reached for the bag. Suddenly, and without warning, I was pushed into the car! My head reeled from the anticipation of who or what it was that pushed me. It didn’t take long for me to find out what it was that pushed so firmly. A long string of MOOOOOOOO came out of the shrouded mist, as I turned around to see this big old cow, and I don’t mean the proprietor looking at me with her big round eyes.

Aye, all that steak, yet so far away, a good stout an I be thinkin' tis a grand day indeed.