There once was a driver named Gene. . .

who kept his bus very clean.
At a very low cost,
we never got lost;
even while looking for Kilbeheen.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Even with that pathetic bit of doggerel, you can guess where we passed through today. It's a dumpy little industrial town, the only place we saw in Ireland that wasn't really pretty. Think Gary, Indiana, or maybe a small version of Philadelphia. The Clarkes originated near Limerick and I was hoping to at least have a drink in a pub named Clarke's but no such luck. The owner of the place we do stop in at says he hasn't even heard of any pubs called Clarke's so we give up after a couple drinks and meet Gene back at the bus.

Even so, getting to Limerick, we passed through several mountain passes and although the fog is in and out, it is still breathtaking. See example below:

On our way into Limerick, Gene stops and we all take a drink from a cold mountain stream.

After Limerick, we head toward the Dromoland Castle where we will "demand the exemplary service demanded by the O'Brien's." But first we stop at the Bunnratty castle just outside Shannon. The castle is closed for tours, but Ben and Wendy track down someone who agrees to give them an abbreviated tour. Luckily, for the rest of us there a pub next door. Even better, it is one we are (sort of) familiar with. Durty Nellie's, has some history with us because Melissa, myself, Bruce and Megan went to a knockoff called Dirty Nellie's located on the Riverwalk in San Antonio, Texas about 5 years ago when Iowa went to the Alamo Bowl. It was a piano bar, and we had a great time. The original is very cool. Not your ordinary 150 year old pub, this place was established in 1620. Yep, Same as when the pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock. I'll bet the folks at Durty Nellie's had a better time. I know we did. Yours truly:

Ben, Corky (I mean Bruce), and I:
After a good time was had by all, and we had purchased numerous trinkets and trash, we headed to the Dromoland castle located in Newmarket-on-Fergus. Here's what you see as you pull in (note our bus on the right):Dromoland was built in 1543 by the O'Briens (my mother's maiden name) who were barons of Inchiquin, and direct descendants of the High King Brian Boru the "valiant leader of a victory over the Danes in 1014. Today, the eighteenth baron of Inchiquin still lives on the grounds" (which consist of over 370 acres, including an 18 hole golf course, horseback riding and shooting). Who would have guessed we descended from the landed gentry? Even more impressive than the outside is the inside:

The doors in the place ranged from 10 feet to 12 feet high. We showered before dinner, not necessarily because we needed to, but because they were hot showers with blasting water and normal controls. Robes and slippers were provided and so were complimentary aperitifs in the room. We were supposed to have jackets for dinner, but luckily they provide one for me. It is nice to see everyone dressed up, and we have a cocktail in the "lounge" before dinner. The lounge is an area with very old and expensive looking furniture, huge portraits 10' x 6' (maybe?) and ceilings that are probably 20' high. We are seated for dinner, and we are usual selves which the staff seems to enjoy since their other customers are there for a particularly stuffy wedding rehearsal dinner. We have a great meal, very good desserts and the company is even better. Don't miss this place if you ever go to Ireland. After dinner, we all retire to our bedrooms and Melissa and I almost immediately fall asleep.

Doing Nothing

"Let me say to you now that to do nothing at all is the most difficult thing in the world, the most difficult and the most intellectual." Gilbert, Intentions, Part II by Oscar Wilde

"I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone. . .but they've always worked for me." Hunter S. Thompson, quoted in Life, Jan. 1981

I went to the Stoddard Cancer Center yesterday. Got a CT taken, as well as blood counts, and went to see my oncologist. The tentative plan was to do another round of chemo unless the cancer had spread so far in the lung as to make chemo irrelevant.

I had been antibiotics for the previous 10 days ending Sunday and the cough and hacking I had was gone. After I stopped the antibiotics, the cough has come back some, but I'm no longer coughing up the white crap.

So we go in to see Dr. Heddinger, and he said that after reading the CT I have a partially collapsed right upper lung lobe and I could do one of three things: have chemo again, do a bronchoscopy (the procedure where they stab you in the back with a humongous needle), or do nothing. The CT showed stable tumor (at least in the lung), so he wasn't going to recommend chemo. The bronchoscopy is highly invasive, hit or miss on results, and in all likelihood would only reveal the partially collapsed lung which we can't do anything about. That left option three: Do nothing.

As an attorney, this was often my advice especially in criminal cases. It's hard for the attorney to give, because he or she isn't making any money doing nothing. It's hard for the client, because they want to feel like they (or their attorney) was hard at work on their case. So usually, they were too dumb to follow the advice and would either open their mouths as soon a cop asked them a question, or often, would actively seek out the police to "tell their side of the story." They ended up screwing themselves, of course, whereas the people who followed the advice often ended up with their cases dropped by the county attorney, or sometimes (if they came to me early enough) not even being charged.

Similarly, doctors don't make much if they are not performing procedures or surgeries and only running diagnostic tests. It's hard advice to give and to take. So I admire Dr. Heddinger even more for giving this advice.

This doesn't solve the brain mets problem upon which I'll probably have stereotactic surgery (again) in mid-May. But for now, it's morphine, Crown Royal and Smithwick's. Breakfast of Champions (with apologies to Kurt Vonnegut).

St. Valentine's Day

February 14, 2007

[You can't ] "wallow with the eagles at night and then soar with the pigs in the morning." --Hunter S. Thompson, The Great Shark Hunt

We wake up having got our best night's sleep in God knows how long. The shower is hot and there is plenty of water. We call room service and have them bring us coffee and a soda while we are getting ready. It is a rested casual morning. We go down to breakfast. We get a great window seat in the restaurant. Service is marginally better than we've had. They at least fill our coffee and other drinks and bring us soda bread. The buffet itself is very good, but frankly, after seven days, I'm ready for a chocolate doughnut. We have to track down the waitress to get her to bring more juice and coffee. Ben is not feeling well this morning. Apparently, too much booze and rich seafood has done in he and his stomach. Wendy tells us this. My wife and Megan immediately volunteer to stay another night in this beautiful hotel, but I'm non-plussed. If we weren't on such a tight schedule, I'd go along with staying another night, but if I miss stuff now, it's not like I can come back next year or some other time. I indicate to Wendy that we are pressing on. Wendy says that if we give Ben until 11:30 a.m. he can move on. We're not on that tight of a schedule, so we give Ben an opportunity to man up.

My wife bought me underwear and t-shirts at a Target type store yesterday, so I use the additional time to return my 60 Euro underwear. The dollar is falling so fast against the Euro that I actually make $0.24 on the exchange. Ben, does in fact, man up, and we move on shortly after the noon hour. It is not a long drive to Dingle, but it is beautiful. Cattle laying down right by the shoreline. Damnedest thing I've ever seen, except maybe the cattle on the mountains on our right. The cattle are negotiating the mountains!!

We stop at Tom Crean's South Pole Inn in Annascaul or "Áth na Scal" (Ford of the Heroes). Most people in the pub speak Gaelic. It helps that Gene does too. Crean went the South Pole twice, once each with the well known explorers Robert Scott and Earnest Shackleton. He also single handedly saved a member of the expedition when most people would have left him for dead. If you're really interested, a link is here:

http://www.70south.com/resources/antarctic-places/irelandannascaul

We then head into Dingle, where we check in at Walsh's Townhouse B&B. We are actually warmly greeted by the owner, and she doesn't complain about the fact that we are early. Good first impressions are usually correct, and in this case they turn out to be. The Rooms are small, but clean. The shower has American type controls on it. The breakfast room has been recently redone, and the lights work. We meet across the street at the an drocied beag (Gaelic for "the small bridge"). Ben, Wendy, Bruce and Megan decide to take Gene up on his offer to show them the "beehive" huts. Melissa and I decide to stay back at the pub where we are seated by our usual spot near the fireplace because neither of us have much interest in the beehive huts and it is getting cold and windy out. After awhile, Melissa and I walk up and down Main Street during which we discover that Doyle's, the place where I was planning on taking everyone to dinner, is closed. We stop at another Pub (Sheey's) and ask for a recommendation from the owner for dinner and she mentions Ashes, down Main Street.

We then head down Main, window shopping, until I spy a place called Foxy John's Bar and Hardware. I insist on stopping in, and damned if it isn't a bar on one side and hardware shop on the other. While I'm drinking a pint, two people actually make hardware purchases. You can see Foxy John and I in the photo above. I'm the ugly one on the right. Note the girl's bicycle in the left window in the lower photo on the left.

We meet back up with gang at "the small bridge" and are also told by the people there to go dinner at Ashes.' Dinner is very good, one our best in Ireland. We finish the night at the Small Bridge where they have live Irish music every night. You'd be surprised how many places have only American rock'n'roll. I'm pretty tired, so Melissa and I call it an early night.

My Greatest Albums (CDs) of All Time

Okay. I admit it. This is a cheap easy column to substitute for actual thoughtful reporting that I usually (try to) do. Yet it is sure to engender a lot of discussion. Please feel free to add your top 25 (or top ten or five) of all time, too. I assume that most people noticed I included a couple of bootlegs you probably haven't heard. If you want copies let me know.

Only two rules: (1) No anonymous lists or anonymous criticism of mine; and (2) no greatest hits or boxed set compilations. Without further ado:

My 25 Favorite Albums of All Time as of March 18, 2007 (In no particular order)


1. Van Morrison Street Choir
2. Alanis Morrisette Jagged Little Pill
3. The Who Who Are You?
4. Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon
5. Bruce Springsteen The Saint, the Incident and the Main Point Shuffle (Bootleg 2/2/75)
6. John Cougar Mellencamp Pink Houses
7. The Band The Band
8. Van Morrison Into the Music
9. Delbert McClinton One of the Fortunate Few
10. Warren Zevon The Wind
11. Run DMC Raisin’ Hell
12. The Beastie Boys Licensed to Ill
13. Little Feat Waiting for Columbus
14. Shelby Lynne I Am Shelby Lynne
15. John Lee Hooker Live in Montreaux (Bootleg 7/15/83)
16. AC/DC Back In Black
17. Led Zeppelin Physical Graffiti
18. Indigo Girls The Indigo Girls
19. Norah Jones Feels Like Home
20. Jackson Browne Running on Empty
21. The Beatles Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
22. R.E.M. Document
23. Matchbox 20 Yourself or Someone Like You
24. Bob Dylan Blood On the Tracks
25. The Pretenders Learning to Crawl

Hopefully back to Ireland and cancer next column.

"Many Sanks"

"I want to thank everyone who made this day necessary."
---Yogi Berra, on Yogi Berra Day, 1947

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

This is what the interpreter for the French people kept saying as the proprietor was trying to get them out so could serve us breakfast. She kept handing her all these worthless brochures (I know these were worthless because I had looked at them on the way in), like those "guidebooks" full of coupons for the town they were leaving. Also featured, since, they were going to Dublin, was a three year old map of Dublin, which didn't even include the new highway (I think it's the M1) that encircles Dublin. Every time the proprietor handed the French interpreter a map or brochure, the interpreter would repeatedly say "many sanks" (i.e., many thanks). We were in the the sitting room, waiting for breakfast, just off the entry way where this "conversation" was taking place.

We were desperately waiting for coffee, (even the nasty instant coffee placed in the room was decaf), but it was so damn funny listening to this, because the harder she tried to get rid of them, the longer and and more repeated the cries of "Many Sanks" became. This became one of the catchphrases for our trip except in France where it became "une petite thanks" for snotty desk clerks, waiters, etc.

As soon as got in the breakfast room, we were told we were sitting at the wrong table. How we supposed to have figured this out, I'm not sure. However, we moved and we finally got coffee. After a pretty good breakfast, Gene had arrived, but it was still raining. Before we leave Kenmare, we visit one of the stone circles. It is known locally as the “Judge and Jury” as it consists of thirteen stones with a central bolder burial. It is the center piece of a complex astronomical calendar, which includes both solar and lunar cycles. Monuments on the horizon mark the rising and setting of the moon on significant dates.

We head on toward Killarney, and the scenery, even in the rain and fog, is beautiful. In several places, we see palm trees growing. Who knew? We stop at the Muckross House, which is a national park. Unfortunately, it is raining and the Park is closed for renovations until mid-March . We get out and take a look anyway. It's pretty impressive. It starts to pour. We run into the visitor center which is more or less closed except for the cafe and the trinkets and trash store, i.e. the gift shop. We spend an hour buying trinkets and trash and then head into the cafe. It is a beautiful cafe where you can watch the storms roll in and out through the large glass windows.

We make the rest of the short trip to Killarney, where our hotel is. After circling the hotel several times, and being unable to approach the hotel within 3 blocks our driver Gene does what we do in American cities: park illegally, and then ask the person who tells you to move for directions. Unlike Chicago, however, they are a lot more personable in Ireland. We unload most of our luggage, and the smartly dressed hotel desk clerk jumps in the van with Gene and she not only gives him directions on where to park, but a recommendation on where to go for dinner tonight. The hotel lobby is absolutely gorgeous and the service is top flight. It is easily in the top five hotels I've stayed at, including Ritz Carlton, Marriott resorts and so forth in major American cities. We are shown to our rooms by the bellman and flop onto the comfortable bed.

The guys and Wendy go to Ross Castle, which is a 14th century castle just outside of Killarney. The other two girls go shopping (or at least so we thought) in town. The castle is closed; however, they let us wander around the grounds where we run into a former tour guide who gives us the history of the place.

After rounding up everyone, we head to Hannigan's, a pub that is a James Joyce Award winner. Bruce and I split up from the girls and go in search of a laundromat. We find a laundry, but they can't guarantee the clothes will be done by the time we leave in the morning. I go to a men's store and drop 60 Euro's on new underwear and t-shirts. Bruce and I head to place named Tattler Jack's quaff a couple of Guinness's and then it occurs to us that tomorrow is Valentine's Day. We quickly purchase some flowers, a card, and a bottle of wine for the girls. Hope Ben remembered to do the same.

We meet back at the hotel and go to Lord Kenmare's, the place the desk lady recommended for dinner. It is fantastic and we have a great time. For a nightcap, we head to Jack C's, a place Melissa and Megan discovered while they were out earlier. It is a tiny place that seats a total of 14, but it's great, The owners are very personable and we stay until nearly closing. Tomorrow we are off to the Dingle Peninsula.

Good News I guess. . .

(Or at least not bad news)

"No news is good news." James Howell, Familiar Letters, June 3, 1640

Well, all of the scans determined that I don't have any cancerous growth on the spine, which is good news, I guess. It is doesn't solve the problem of what is causing the numbness in my legs and feet, though. I still have a couple of new brain mets that popped up on the follow up scan to my stereotactic radiation that I had on March 1. I'm waiting for the "RADMAN" (as his vanity plate states) to consult with the neurologist and see what's causing the numbness and headaches. No tales from Ireland today. Maybe tomorrow.

"Rainy Days and Mondays. . ."

. . . (and not having hot coffee when promised) always get me down."
--Karen Carpenter

Monday, February 12, 2007

Monday morning, it is raining as we wake up. Although I enjoy rain at night, I hate waking up to rain. We shower and I head out to to the breakfast room at 8:00 a.m. for the coffee that was promised to be ready. No sign of coffee. I go back to our room. At 8:20 a.m., I go back out. No coffee, no sign of coffee. Back to the room. At 8:40 a.m., I head back out. Megan warns me she just got barked at for asking about the coffee. I don't give a damn. I head to the kitchen and ask if we can have some coffee. "Fine," she snaps. Five minutes later, I have coffee.

Gene shows up on time as always. We begin our journey again, headed toward Kenmare and the Ring of Kerry. We stop at a delightful little pub in Dunmanaway called the Shamrock and an older couple offers to let us sit down with them. They are very nice and entertaining.

We continue on with the trip through the southwestern region. It is as beautiful as you've seen in any postcards. We begin heading North through Bantry and take some pictures overlooking the Bantry Bay. We head toward Glengariff and drive by Maureen O'Hara's place. She starred opposite John Wayne in The Quiet Man (and four other movies), and was the wife in Miracle on 34th Street and The Parent Trap. By the the way, for those of you that don't know, John Wayne was born in Winterset, Iowa, about 30 miles southwest of Des Moines. Gene shows us his place and is very hospitable. By the way Gene, your place is beautiful. We look around town, but don't buy anything, because it all seems kind of pricey. We eat at the Park Hotel for lunch, and it's standard pub fare, but still very good.

Currently playing on XM as I type this: Alanis Morrisette, "Ironic". Perfect. I think I'll buy a lottery ticket today. :-)

It's raining as we leave the Park Hotel in Glengariff. It alternates between rain and sunshine switching to mostly rain by the time we get to Kenmare. We do get to see some beautiful scenery during breaks in the weather. Gene drives this large bus like a master up and down the very narrow and steep road . We are now in the Caha Mountains. and we drive through Turner's Rock Tunnel, a hand made tunnel.

Shortly after that, we stop at Molly Gallivan's Cottage and Visitor Centre. Although it is not open this time of year, Gene has arranged with the owner of the place to let us check it out. It is named after Gallivan who was widowed with seven children. She supplemented her meager income by selling part of her farm produce such as butter, eggs and honey on the local market. Her home baking and hand spun woollens were ever popular with the few passing tourists but it was her illicit home brewed poitin (potato whiskey) locally known as Molly’s Mountain Dew which she sold in her sibbeen (illegal pub) that was the most profitable. "The exploits of this enterprising widow are legendary" , according to the brochure. It sounds like she had plenty of advance warning when the local authorities we coming, both due to her vantage point at the top of the mountain and probably from grateful customers. The cottage where she stayed was 500 square feet. Can you imagine? An adult, 7 children, and a couple of animals (sheep and chickens ) inside a 500 square foot cottage! We see a short movie on the site and then Wendy gets to meet a "relative" (someone with the same name as some of her relatives), and have her picture taken with him.

We stop in Kenmare, and do some shopping. I decided to splurge and get a Gaelic wool sweater. Probably paid too much , but man it's warm. Plus Melissa negotiated the price downwards, so we didn't overpay too terribly much. Apparently, you can negotiate at any of the the shops in tourist towns, we later learn from Gene. We also pick up a Gaelic Football and shirt for Joe and Melissa gets a few things for herself.

We meet at the Wander Inn for a couple of drinks, and then head to the Rockcrest house to check in. As we are still getting out of the bus and bringing in the luggage, the owner demands to know when want breakfast tomorrow morning. Can we consult with the rest of our party before deciding ?", I ask. "No. I have another group coming in tonight so I need to know now," she snaps. Melissa and I decide that everyone is eating at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow. That means no coffee in the morning. I hate having no coffee in the morning.

We go to a place called Ryan's where a young guy (about 30 yrs. old maybe) who is bartending owns the place. It is a large place which has new decor, but is tastefully done. Lots of wood, brass, etc. We start talking to him , and he indicates that including improvements, he has E 2.2 million (about $3 million) into the place. I ask him where his cash came from and he states he got lucky fixing up two previous bars and flipping them. At least he doesn't think he's a genius, because he bought in the right place at the right time. Sure it takes hard work, but there's also an element of luck to owning a place and he recognizes this. I kind of like the guy. We meet a couple where the female is originally from Davenport, Iowa. We exchange stories about Iowa City.

We head to a fast food place where basically all they serve is fish and chips , but talk about fresh. The owner (at least I presume she was) actually pulls the fish out of the fridge and breads it in front of us before dropping it in the cooker. It is delicious. We head to couple of more pubs before walking home. If the weather clears up like it finally appears to be doing here, we'll be seeing the Ring of Kerry tomorrow.

"This Ain't No Party, This Ain't No Disco...

. . . this ain't no fooling around."

--The Talking Heads, "Life During Wartime"

"Old folks boogie, down on the farm. Wheelchairs, they was locked arm in arm."

--Little Feat, "Old Folks Boogie"

"The waiting is the hardest part."

--Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, "The Waiting"


Let's see. Where do we start? How 'bout with the visit from the lady from Hospice? She was certainly nice enough, but it was fucking depressing, going through my medical history for the umpteenth time. Shortly after the visit concluded, the delivery van from the hospice arrived, and set up a hospital bed in my (1st floor) office. I thought I was prepared for this eventuality, but I guess not. Maybe no one ever is.

Then a couple hours later it was over to the hospital for a three hour MRI session of my neck, cervical spine, lumbar spine, and sacroiliac spine. Then over to X-ray to photograph 8 views of the same thing. The first machine we were on broke in the middle of my pics. Kind of the story of my health the last 1 1/2 years. Got home at quarter to midnight, completely exhausted.

Now I have to wait until tomorrow (Thursday) to see if if the cancer has spread to my spine and if so, if any palliative radiation can be done. it's questionable due to the previous radiation on the lung. If not, I guess it's time to get fitted for a wheelchair. I was ready for pain, even extreme pain, but I wasn't (and I'm not) ready for that news.

Reality Interlude, Part II

I've got an appointment for an MRI tomorrow night. Dr. McGinnis thinks it may be metastatic cancer to the spine causing the numbness and tingling in my legs. Because of the previous radiation to the lungs, if there is cancer high up on the spine, there will be nothing they can do. A wheelchair will be in my near future. Pray for me.

The Redemption of Mary, Gay Bars, and Kinsale

Sunday, February 11, 2007

We woke up about 6:15 a.m. after a good night's sleep. Didn't freeze to death. In fact we were quite toasty . These blankets in Ireland are fantastic! We shower, and after a cup of the best coffee in Ireland (really!), Mary's husband, Sonny, drives Melissa, Megan and I to church. (The rest of our crew consists of unrepentant sinners :-) ). Mary warns us that they hit you up for two Euro a head on the way in, so I am prepared. 3/4ths of seats are unoccupied, yet there are numerous people standing in the back. I wonder if the $2 Euro is some sort of seating tax. It is a sunny, glorious morning, and mass takes only 27 minutes. The scenery outside the church is beautiful, even the graveyard (different than the one in Kilbehenny) adjacent to the church. We attempt to take to a picture from the steps of the church, with the Galty Mountains in the background but I think the camera batteries were worn out. No matter. I have the image in my head for the rest of my life.

Sonny, takes us around town and shows us some of the beautiful Church of England churches and possessions. He then drives us back to the B&B where we have more of that great coffee and a very good traditional Irish breakfast.

We drive to Cork City to allow Wendy and the girls to go shopping. Unfortunately, nothing is open until noon, including the bars in the area. Wendy and Megan go shopping at noon, and the rest of us go to some place called Les Chateau which is the only place open that serves alcohol . The place is quiet except for a few guys having drinks. You have to get a code to go to unlock the bathroom, which I find a bit unusual but the bartender is cool about getting our drinks and taking our food orders. On my way to the bathroom, this guy at a table of three two table over from ours gives me the evil eye which I think is a bit weird since I didn't think our table was even being our loud obnoxious, usual selves. On the way back from the bathroom, he looks at me again, and I give him my best "Fuck you" look. I figure we collectively outweigh these guys by about 150 lbs. and if we can't take them in a scrap, we aren't worth our salt. Nothing further happens. Megan and Wendy get back from shopping. My sister and Bruce say their chowder is good, and after a couple more drinks we leave.

After we meet up with Gene at the appointed time and place, we tell him where we went, and and he says in his Irish brogue, "Did you know that's a gay bar?" We figured that explained the looks we were getting from that table and had a good laugh about it.

We now drive on toward Kinsale. On the outskirts of town, Gene wants to show us something special. We lost on some old dirt roads, so Gene stops three ladies who are out walking to get directions. They mean well, but they are about as helpful as mud. "Well, if go down this road, there's a sign pointing to Charlesford." Gene explains we have been up and down this road three times and there is no sign. "Well, then take your second left where the sign used to be." Right. Gene eventually finds what we are looking for which is Charles' Fort. It offers a spectacular view of the Kinsale Harbor, and beyond that, the Celtic Sea. We have some great pictures that I'll add to this site when we everybody's pictures for the photo album (Hint, hint!).

Gene has called ahead, and there is a problem with our B&B. He assures us it will be taken care of . We try to assure him that if worse comes to worse we'll find a hotel, and work it out with Chris later. We drive on to Kinsale, where we stop at the Blue Haven Hotel for drinks and appetizers while Gene checks out the B&B. We watch the (Gaelic) "football" (a/k/a/ rugby) match on television. It is actually a pretty cool game. The scoring is like football, except there are 5 pts. rather than 6 for a "touchdown", and the point after is 2 pts. rather than one. You can kick the ball forward, but only can pass or lateral it backward. You tackle the guy with the football, and there are no pads, so you have to be a tough S.O.B. to play this game. Field goal opportunities are given when various infractions are committed, and can be taken voluntarily at other times which I never quite figured out. Ireland ends up losing a heart breaker to France in the last minute , 20-17. We end up yelling as loud as any one in the bar.

Gene returns and tells us the owners of the original place we were supposed to stay at went on vacation, but he found us alternate accommodations at the Ashgrove House in Kinsale. We find out that the Blue Haven doesn't serve dinner on Sunday nights and that only guests of the hotel get to have the seven course breakfast. The best laid plans. . .We check in at the Ashgrove house and meet the proprietor. She doesn't seem very pleased that we are here. We ask her to have coffee ready at 8:00 a.m. and then breakfast whenever she can get it ready after that. We have Gene drop us in town.

We have a couple of drinks at some pub and end up eating next door at a place called the White House. Dinner is very good for a casual place, and it is our turn to buy so we put it on a credit card. Luckily, Melissa checks the receipt before we leave and the bill was made out for 1,620 Euros (roughly $2,200 American). She points this out to the waiter, who doesn't even apologize for the error, but silently brings over a corrected bill for 162 Euros. It makes us wonder if the error is intentional. We have drinks after dinner at Dalton's but we head home shortly after arriving. It is raining out, and the taxi service says we are too close to them to be picked up, so we have to walk in the rain to the taxi stand and then intercom them from outside. Kinsale, a real customer oriented town. We watch a little t.v. in the sitting room at the B&B and then call it a night. In my opinion, Kinsale, is a tourist town that can be skipped.

Brief Reality Interlude

Going in for an MRI and meeting with the oncologist today. Have been experiencing numbness and tingling in both legs and headaches. It started in Ireland a little bit but I hoped it was due to the long plane rides and all of the walking we were doing on the trip, but has gotten worse since we got back. The headaches were really bad yesterday, too, but so far nothing today. I'll keep you updated on my medical status.