That’s not to say I’m not a sports fan; it’s American sports I can’t seem to get excited about. Sure, being in the crowd when the Cardinals won the World Series was fun, but baseball seems to be more about sitting and chatting with friends while the game commences below you. It reminds me a lot of polo for that reason.

My true love is hurling.

I played on a camógaíocht team in college. That’s the women’s version of hurling. There’s not too much difference between men’s hurling and women’s camogie–just a few minor rule changes. I wasn’t a breakout star by any means, but I loved the game. It’s fast, challenging, and very dangerous if you don’t pay close attention to what’s happening around you.

Ash sticks, hard balls, and no padding. THAT'S a game!

I was quite happy, then, to discover that they are starting to expand the sport of hurling more in Ireland. An adult club hurling league has started its schedule this weekend, with plans to expand to an official youth league next year. Basically, this means that Ireland is going to start “minor league” hurling to help support the “majors” already in place. There had been talk that interest was waning, and that the sport might lose its status as one of Ireland’s national games. If this is any indication, I’d say it’s alive and well!

So while Rowan, Ben, RJ, and about ten other friends all gather around the television watching their game, I’ll be watching hurling highlights from last season’s games and gearing up for this year. I can’t wait, too, until March 31st–the first game for the St. Louis Hurling Club!

Rowan’s been working like a madman, and it’s starting to show. He’s tossing and turning in his sleep, getting little chance to recharge himself before he’s up and tapping away at the keyboard. I keep telling him to take a break–we’re both freelancers, after all, and he can take a nice, long vacation like I did whenever he wants–but he mumbles that he “has to stay busy.” We’re not in desperate need of finances, but he’s been intensely driven lately. He seems very distracted by something.

I’ve been spending a lot of time at the gym with Constance, who’s been out-of-sorts lately, too. She and Ben have such a strange relationship, and they’ve been in the “I can’t stand the sight of you” stage for about three weeks now. Ben’s usually pretty quick to anger, but quick to calm down, too. Whatever happened between the two of them right after New Year’s must have been something pretty big. The longest I’ve ever seen the two go without talking was about four days until this.

Oh, dear. Salinger just came up from the basement tracking cream paint all over the floor. Gotta go!

I love when I have enough time to relax and shoot what I want to instead of what the client demands

I’d be lying if I said I was busy lately.

In fact, I’ve been taking it easy. The busy holiday season allowed me to take a few weeks off–something I’ve been wanting to do for awhile now. I’d like to re-decorate the front room; flying about from shoot to shoot isn’t going to make that happen very quickly.

Why have I not blogged more often, then? Easy to tell:  Rowan.

Oh, he’s not being an amadán or anything like that. He’s just as wonderful as he always is. He hasn’t taken any time off, though. In fact, he’s been working overtime. It appears that half of St. Louis needs his services to fix their computer-related problems. Poor Rowan has been working 18-hour days for a few weeks now.

My laptop died right after Christmas. I would have bought a new one, but there are several programs I love and many, many digital images on the hard drive, and I want Rowan to see if it can be fixed before we spend money on replacing it. This is where the problem arises.

Rowan is so swamped, he hasn’t had the time to get to my computer. I’ve caught him nodding off at his desk several times and have had to remind him to eat. He tells me “it’s slowing down”, but I don’t see that happening.

It’s somewhat serendipitous that the laptop died right when I took a break from work. While I love processing film the traditional way, I primarily shoot digital images and manipulate them for clients. It allows me a faster turnaround, and I can fine tune tiny imperfections however I’d like with the computer.

My next shoot is scheduled for January 30th, and it’s for a motorcycle shop. I may have to borrow a friend’s computer if Rowan’s workload continues like this. Quite a bit of airbrushing is needed for that client.

If fate demands a new laptop, can anyone recommend a good one?

Athbhliain faoi mhaise daoibh!

Felicity

That's not straight Coke in that glass. Santa knows how to party!

I picked up my brother from the airport this morning, and aye, aren’t we already warming to the holiday cheer!

As he promised, he had no trouble getting out of Ireland. He wasn’t given special dispensation or anything; they simply told him he had served his time and be on his way. He says my worries are only because Americans are distrusted for life if they protest. “To be Irish is to be a rebel; the authorities understand that,” he says.

We’re sharing a bottle of Kilbeggan whiskey at the moment. He’s laughing at my terrible typing skills, too, as I’m more than a little tipsy. We’ve scheduled a visit to Mother and Da’s tomorrow morning, and Austin said we needed to steel ourselves for the day. Thus the whiskey. And amn’t I feeling stronger already!

If I don’t see you before the solstice, I wish you all a most blessed holiday!

-Felicity

(This is Austin. Looks like a certain someone left her post unlocked! Now I can tell everyone that my sister is rubbered enough to be singing songs from her school days. Now shouldn’t I be recording this!)

First, I was lucky enough to have six holiday flyer jobs tossed at me at the last minute, so I’ve been extremely busy. I’ve already seen three of those flyers in the paper, so perhaps I’ve gained a few new loyal clients due to the quick turnaround!

Second, the MCS called me in last Saturday to shoot a crime scene right as I sat down at the computer to put a blog entry together. When the flu makes its rounds, I start getting calls. Luckily, it wasn’t anything like the last one I worked, but that didn’t stop Rowan from tagging along. He’s a big help on the documentation part!

Finally, we’ve been steadily working our way through our annual Yule party dance card. Three get-togethers down, five to go. Well, four Yule parties and one Christmas party at my parents’ house to go. That is, if Rowan doesn’t get us banned from the house again. It should be a lively one this year, as Austin has plans to come visit. My mother’s nervous about that. She doesn’t think the gardaí will let him leave the country after what happened back in May. He says he’s cleared it with the authorities, though, and I’m scheduled to pick him up from the airport on the 18th. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

I find myself wishing it would snow. I really love how the landscape shows such a contrast of soft whites and gnarled browns in the winter. St. Louis is becoming known for its ice storms, but when it snows, it’s so pretty. We haven’t had any here yet, though. I’m looking forward to wandering one of my favorite paths in the fresh snow. It’s so quiet and peaceful after a snowfall, and I get a chance to slow down and remember that this is a season for introspection. That’s hard to do when your days are filled with looking through lenses and windshields.

Looks like Rowan’s got plans for us for dinner. He’s having trouble hiding a smile, so I know he’s up to something. I hope it involves chocolate!

Have a great week, everyone! I promise I’ll be back next week, although it may very well be Sunday before I get to the blog again!

-Felicity

We saw Rescue, a documentary about the first responders to horrible disasters. It was my first 3-D movie, and I’m told I’ve been spoiled now. I really felt I was in the midst of the action, especially during the Haiti scenes. I’ll definitely be keeping my eye out for more 3-D movies like this!

The impassioned focus those firefighters, soldiers, police, and other rescue workers bring to their jobs is so inspiring. I really needed this look at the selfless nature of humanity this weekend after dealing with the far less gracious folks over the last two days.

I’ve never been one to venture out on Black Friday. There’s just too much negative energy bristling around in stores this weekend, and it takes less than five minutes before I feel lightheaded and sick to my stomach. I had a lightbulb burn out in the kitchen yesterday, so I had to take a trip to Lowe’s to replace it. Luckily, I ran the errand later in the day, so the store wasn’t too bad. Traffic was another story, though, and I was glad to get home. When Theresa suggested the movie, I jumped at the chance to see people working together to help others instead of reading stories about pepper-spraying greedy customers.

Not only did that move lift my spirits, it reminded me of the intense power of the Elements. Fire, Water, Earth, and Air can alter the course of our lives in an instant. We do well to honor and respect them.

We’d also do well to think of those less fortunate than us this holiday season. Times may be difficult for us economically, but remember:  what you give comes back to you tenfold. Give your spirit a gift this year by giving to others.

- Felicity

If you’re not sure what groups you’d like to donate to, I’d like to suggest a few of my favorites:

Red Cloud Indian School in Pine Ride, South Dakota

Trees, Water & People

Sierra Club

St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital

Usually, illness doesn’t knock me out of the running so badly. This one certainly did. Our doctor tells me that I had this year’s influenza strain. Aye, that will be the last time I skip the yearly flu shot!

I don’t remember much of the last week. I was delirious with fever for several days, and all I recall is Rowan being at my side every time I’d wake. Once I had my wits about me again, all I wanted to do was sleep. He forced me to eat when I’d wake, and after about four days, I started feeling a bit better. I still feel pretty weak, so Row called my clients and canceled everything up until after Thanksgiving. I’m to focus only on getting well, he says. The clients can wait.

Before that nasty bug slammed into me like a truck, I was getting ready to start on a new project. A company in Los Angeles is producing a television commercial that will feature still photographs that will morph into each other. They had asked me to take the shots, and we had scheduled that I fly to the coast this past Tuesday. Rowan tells me they were understanding and that they plan to wait until I’m feeling better, but I still worry that they’ll choose another photographer. I know their deadline is approaching, so I think I’ll book a flight out there this coming week. I should be back to normal by Tuesday, I think.

I hear Rowan calling from the other room. Time for me to be nursemaid for him. I suppose I forgot to mention that–now that I’m better, Rowan is fully under this flu’s spell!

Blessings to all this week, and may this particular visitor NOT stop at your door!

- Felicity

The Samhain season should be a time to reflect upon those who’ve passed to the Otherworld recently. I’ve lost several close friends this year, and while our coven will be celebrating the sabbat together this evening with our traditional dumb supper and ritual, Rowan and I will be holding another more intimate ceremony later tonight by ourselves to remember the special moments we shared with those who have gone before.

If you so wish, feel free to leave a comment telling about your special someone. Sharing with others stories of the joy and love they brought you allows them to keep carrying on their legacy through you.

Mary Kathleen Walsh, Cerise Kohlner, and Quigley, I love and miss you deeply. Until we meet again…

Photo courtesy of Arundale Products, Inc. You can get Rally Squirrel items from them at http://www.skycafe.com/

If you follow sports, you’ve probably heard about our hometown baseball team. We’ve got a bit of a reputation. We’re pretty damned good.

This year was a bit of a struggle, though. We held our breath before the season started, unsure if our golden ticket Albert Pujols would remain a Redbird or not.

We struggled toward the end of the season, but worked hard enough in the homestretch to come back from No Man’s Land to capture the wildcard spot in the playoffs.

A misguided squirrel got lost on the field and became a mascot.

And we battled back from the brink of disaster several times to finally clinch the pennant.

Rowan and I attended last night’s game. I don’t think I’ve ever been around that many happy people before in my entire life. The emotion was overwhelming; people were crying, they were so overcome. We slept in VERY late today after celebrating at The Dubliner for much longer than we probably should have.  I have no voice and my face hurts from smiling. It was worth every minute though.

It’s a good month to be a Cardinal’s fan.

I like to think I’m a seasoned traveler. I try to think ahead, anticipating the objections security, flight attendants, and other passengers might have about my luggage or my behavior. Perhaps it was the Luck of the Irish, but I hadn’t really run into any serious problems before. Until I tried to get home this week from Montana. Now I know that just existing might cause me some trouble nowadays.

Unlike most jobs, freelancing usually requires that you go to the work. It’s quite rare that the work comes to you. For this particular job, I was shooting the Grinnell Glacier for a story in a nature magazine. I spent three days in some of the most beautiful country I’ve ever seen, and should my beloved Jeep ever stop running (gods forbid!), I just might grab one of those GMC Yukon hybrids. I had a lot of fun putting it through the paces in the park. I was a little sad, then, to let it go when I returned it to the rental agency.

Glacier Park International was a well-run airport. Our flight left for Denver on time, the staff was wonderful, and the passengers were chatty and pleasant. The moment we de-boarded in Denver, though, things turned quite different.

We were met at the gate by an attendant, who rudely told us that “if you’re connecting to St. Louis, you’re going to be pissed. United canceled your flight.” I’ve dealt with cancellations before, but usually, the staff is more formal with the announcement. The ticket counter helped me re-book for a Friday afternoon flight, and I left to settle in to my airline-paid hotel room.

After lunch the next day, I lugged all of my equipment back to the airport, where security pulled me aside to discuss the “excessive electronic equipment” I had. You’d think they had never seen photography equipment before! Rowan thinks they were trying to find an excuse to talk to me. If airports weren’t filled with panicky people now, I might have flared my temper a bit. I just wanted to get home, though, so I answered their ridiculously stupid questions and continued to the gate.

That’s where I came to the conclusion that some folks in Denver need to be educated a bit more on the terrorist issue. A young couple, newly-married, were giggling and snuggling with each other. The young lady was obviously nervous, so I asked if this was her first flight. She said yes, and that she was so scared, it would probably be her last. We talked for a while, and I barely noticed the elderly man next to me get up from his seat and approach the service counter. Several minutes later, four security officers came over to the couple and asked if they would “come with us.”

Do we all need these now?

Nerves plainly showing, the young lady asked if they were kidding, and one of the officers grabbed her wrist. Reflexively, the man lashed out verbally, telling him to “get your hands off of her.” Had he not slapped at the officer’s arm and cooperated, the incident probably would have ended after a few minutes of explanation. Instead, both were forced to the ground, their rights loudly read, and carted off to some hidden room in the terminal.

After the commotion had died down at the gate, the elderly man seated to my left mumbled loud enough for me to hear:  “Serves ‘em right. Damn protesters. Those terrorists are going to take down the government. Occupy a jail cell, missy.”

The young lady in question had been wearing an “Occupy Denver” t-shirt. I have no idea how the whole incident turned out, but that old man now knows what I think of his actions.

I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had much of a chance to really study the whole “Occupy” movement. I’d love to hear your opinions, if you have them, and I hope the staff at the Denver airport takes a deep breath and tries to relax a bit before I pass through there again.

2.  Flash the right policeman and everything’s forgiven.

3.  Singing “I’m Getting Married in the Morning” at the top of your lungs will often get you a free drink at the pub.

4.  Continued singing of “I’m Getting Married in the Morning” will often get you asked to leave that pub.

5.  Apple flavored vodka has a horrible aftertaste, but only after that drink has  revisited you in the ladies’ room.

6.  It is possible for your friends to tie sixty-two ribbons into your hair without noticing.

7.  Your favorite song can change every three-and-a-half minutes.

8.  Marshmallow does not come out of taffeta easily.

9.  Drunken laser tag will give you the hiccups so badly you will laugh until you cry.

Wouldn't this give you the hiccups, too?

10.  Posting flyers in the elevators (“Party in Room 138!”) will result in your hotel room full of college boys grinning from ear to ear.

11.  Crime scene tape placed over your hotel room door will keep the front desk from calling the police for a few hours.

12.  In order to keep the sound down at two in the morning, the management will re-open the pool for you and your guests.

13.  Cookies made in the shape of male anatomy are surprisingly tasty.

Saoirse, I love you to pieces. That party was epic.

I was blessed this weekend, as I was able to share in the Circle created by two very close friends, whose beautiful ceremony has reminded me how special that bond is.

Rowan and I recall our own handfasting fondly, but the memories can mellow over time. It’s only when you experience that moment again–when a new family is formed for the first time–that you vividly recall the intensity of the emotions you felt on your own wedding day.

Oísin and Saoirse, we wish you all the best, and we thank you for reminding us how precious those moments are.

Glendalough, County Wicklow

I love this time of year. The temperature in St. Louis drops, the wind picks up, and I can start pulling out sweaters from the moth balls.

The daily grind can make you forget to notice the subtle changes Mother Nature is going through as She changes seasons. Colors start to peek out on the trees, and leaves begin swirling around the streets and walkways, reminding us to start tying up the loose ends we have in our gardens and in our lives.

I’ll admit:  I feel more connected to the Elements when I’m in Ireland. No matter where you go, there’s a constant reminder of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. As soon as you escape the big cities (if you can even really call them “big), you’re immediately struck by rolling hills, stirring breezes, gentle rain showers, and the warmth of the sun. The weather is a constant reminder of the power of the Elements, and I think that’s why everyone comments on it. We revel in the presence of such magic.

October and March are probably my favorite times of the year, since St. Louis weather most closely matches that of Ireland. If you’re anywhere near the Gateway Arch, then, smile! You’re getting a wee taste of the Emerald Isle, carried on the breeze!

-Felicity

“Were you ever involved with the Troubles?”

I’ve never actively promoted the political agenda of any of the many different groups seeking to fix the issues that divide us in Ireland. But there isn’t a soul alive in the country that hasn’t somehow felt the effects of the fighting. I’d like to share my memory of the first moment I knew something very wrong was happening in Ireland.

My father, Seamus, was raised in Creggan, County Derry. He left the area when he was a teenager, but often traveled back to visit friends and family. He usually went alone, as Derry was very dangerous when I was young. One day in 1972, the world saw just how hazardous it was.

We were all sitting at the table enjoying our dinner late that evening when the telephone rang. My mother’s standing rule in the house was  that no phone calls were to be taken during meals, but as my father ran to the kitchen to answer it, she didn’t even look up from her plate. I remember thinking how strange that was, but I knew better than to ask her why Da was suddenly an exception to the rule.

Our dinner continued as my father took the call in the next room. I remember he said, “Just slow down, Tommy, and tell me what’s happened,” but I didn’t know who he was talking to or what had the man so excited. Everyone in the house jumped, though, when we heard his next words:  “THEY DID WHAT???” My mother quickly rose and walked to the kitchen, and I thought my father was going to get a stern tongue lashing on manners, but that’s not what happened.

After about half a minute of tense whispering, my mother returned to the dining room, her voice strained as she told us to go outside for a few minutes.

I remember protesting: “It’s raining and cold out, Mum. I don’t want to go outside.”  That’s when my mother’s usually calm, composed demeanor changed. With fire in her eyes and a sharp bite to her words, she threatened us with a thrashing if we didn’t “get out. Now!” We hurried into our coats and boots and rushed outside.

Austin, who was about five at the time, wanted to go play by the river, but I was too interested in what was happening inside. I sneaked over to the dining room window and peeked in. I saw my father hunched over the table, his face in his hands. It was clear from his shaking shoulders that he was sobbing. My mother embraced him, trying to console him, but obviously something had really shaken my father to the core. I couldn’t hear the words, but Da was pouring his heart out to my mother. After about ten minutes, he composed himself again and gestured to let us children come back inside.

The rest of the meal was taken in silence, but I recall one more event of that evening. When Mathair had cleared the dishes, she returned with a bottle of whisky and two small glasses. Austin and I made to leave the table, but my father held us there with his eyes. His eyes filling with new tears, he spoke directly to us, issuing a command I’ve never forgotten:

“You’ll learn their names and remember them.”

He then recited a list:

Jackie Duddy

John Pious Young

Michael M. McDaid

William Noel Nash

Michael Gerald Kelly

Hugh Pious Gilmore

Kevin McElhinney

Patrick Joseph Doherty

James Joseph Wray

Gerald James McKinney

Gerald Donaghy

William Anthony McKinney

Bernard McGuigan

After reciting them all, he lifted his glass to the heavens and drank a toast to them, my mother joining in the toast.

My father looked so sad that I couldn’t bear to ask him what awful thing had happened to those people. When we were being tucked into bed, I asked my mother what was going on. She told us that soldiers had shot them for no reason, and that they had died. I went to sleep wondering what kind of world we lived in where good people could be killed for no reason.

The next year, he repeated the sad roll call, and added another name:

John Johnston

Every year, my father repeats the list and the toast. When we came of age, we were allowed to join him, reciting the names in unison.

One of the famous murals in Derry showing the fourteen souls lost to the violence that day.

I still lift my glass on January 30th every year, and every year I pray the insanity will end.

I’m very fortunate to have somewhat local access to what I feel is the best coffee in Ireland:  Bewley’s. I travel to Chicago occasionally, and I always make sure to stop in at Harp and Thistle Imports in Peoria to pick up some of the stuff. It’s the only coffee I’ll have for a true, authentic Irish Coffee, and it’s by far the best for daily drinking. I think adding sugar to it enhances the flavor, too. That’s not the case for many other coffees I’ve tried, and I must have sugar! Ben jokes that I “take coffee with my sugar.” Aye, I do like it sweet, but no amount of sugar can mask a badly brewed pot. The mud he drinks at work is a last resort for me!

The perfect cup!

While Bewley’s is my daily cup of choice, if I’m going to treat myself, I brew up a pot of Dangerously Delicious Coffee. It’s roasted by a good friend of Rowan’s, and it’s better than any other cup of coffee I’ve ever had.

If I’m on the road, I always make it a point to try and find a local coffee shop before resorting to the big chains. They always have a better brew than the chains, and it helps keep local businesses strong. There’s usually a friendlier atmosphere in the local shops, too!  A few that I’ve found in the St. Louis area that are top-notch:

Wired Coffee  in Sunset Hills (My favorite shop in town!)

Stone Spiral in Maplewood (They have installed a small spiral of stones on their front lawn. It’s beautiful and so tranquil!)

The London Tea Room downtown (Many friends of mine drink tea, not coffee. When we meet for a cup, we go here, since they do a very nice latte, too! Click the link if only to read the food menu. It’s hilarious!)

Is there a favorite you have? How do you take your coffee?

I decided to share two little gifts Mother Nature sent my way this week. I was definitely blessed to be in the right place at the right time for these!

Have a great weekend!

I had no such thing Wednesday afternoon. I was a gawky klutz.

There is a small company in St. Louis that manufactures toys. (They had a huge hit a few years ago with a sort of wind-up rat. I have no idea how that became so popular.) This company hired me to shoot their current production line in preparation for the holiday season, so I arrived bright and early, ready to go.

These sorts of shoots are rarely very complicated, unless the toy is a technological marvel of sorts. None of the samples I was given were very complicated, so I started to set up the first shot and get going.

That’s when the lamp blew out in one of my reflectors.

That’s happened before, though, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. What made it truly aggravating was that I didn’t have a spare lamp that wasn’t blown, too.

Why I didn’t take that as a warning, I’ll never know. If The Universe was using those lamps as a signal to me that I needed to be extra careful during this shoot, I wasn’t getting the message.

After making a trip to the jeep and rigging up another reflector, I was off and running. I got six shots in before I noticed that the model looked a bit off. One of the little robot’s arms was not quite in a realistic position, so I tried to move it.

It broke off in my hand.

Embarrassed, I found someone to provide a new one for me, and continued the shoot.  I moved on to the handheld shots, and everything seemed to be going well. I thought the attack of bad luck was over. The first model shots were finished, and I started to set up the second…

…and I knocked my camera off the table.

It fell right on top of the one-armed robot reject I had left on the floor next to the table.

As you can see, I now I have a shattered UV filter. It’s jammed itself on there so tightly that I can’t seem to get it off. I’ll likely have to take it in to get it fixed, and I really hope the lens itself isn’t harmed. I can replace a UV filter for about thirty dollars, but the lens is FAR more expensive.

Our lesson for the week:  always use a UV filter, if for no other reason than to protect you from yourself.

Tire Shop Yokel

That idiot running the shop has no idea how to treat a woman. He drooled–yes, really–so badly that he spat on my chin as he talked. Instead of apologizing, he laughed about it, then asked if I liked it. I was stuck; I had to have the tire, but he took his own sweet time putting it on. I’ve been stared at before, but this is the first time I can say I’ve felt I was leered at. It’s not a comfortable feeling in the least. I talked to Rowan on my cell phone the entire time, not wanting to give that sicko any more of an opportunity to try and engage me in conversation. He overcharged me for the tire, but I wanted nothing more than to leave, so I paid it. When I got home, I took a long, hot shower to try and get that greasy feeling off my soul. I think I’ll be flying for awhile, even to Chicago. I can listen to Dylan on my iPod instead.