The Everywhereist

It seems somewhat politically insensitive (or perhaps merely uninformed) to lump all my photos from our Ireland trip together, especially in light of last Monday’s post. I wondered if I should split them up into two posts - 10 photos from our trip to Northern Ireland, and 10 photos from our trip to the Republic.

But there is no border between the two places; we drove seamlessly from Northern Ireland to the Republic, and back again. The countryside remained lovely, the people continued to be friendly, and glasses of Guinness flowed freely on either side.

And so, because our similiarities in this world should always triumph over our differences, I’ve mashed all my photos together in one post. (Also, I was feeling kind of lazy.)

1. Most covered lattice, Castle Leslie Estate, Republic of Ireland.
   

   You lichen? GET IT? LICHEN? HA.

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2. Caution: Horses sign, Castle Leslie Estate.
   

   I wanted to add little fangs to the silhouette and change it to say “Caution: VAMPIRE HORSES” but Rand mentioned some nonsense about defacing property or something, so I didn’t.

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I’m just saying … I think it would encourage me to pay better attention to the directions.

“Turn … LeeeeEEEEFT!”

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Because frankly, right now she sounds all hoighty-toighty and bossy.

I become a huge, unmitigated dork whenever anyone points a camera at me.

Okay, fine: I’m a huge, unmitigated dork in most circumstances, and that includes when someone points a camera at me.

See?

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It’s grey in Seattle. And chilly. I’m sitting here in my office, contemplating grabbing a sweater.

For the record, I’m already wearing jeans and a t-shirt. But it’s in the high sixties in here, and I have goosebumps. It’s out of sheer stubbornness that I don’t grab a cardigan, because it is July, and that sort of thing is just not acceptable for this time of year.

Indeed, it hasn’t been the most summery of summers.

Supposedly Memorial Day weekend was nice, but Rand and I weren’t here for that. Instead, we popped down to Oregon, and spent that weekend in Portland and Astoria, where it was – you guessed it – chilly and grey.

But I don’t need the sun to have fun. These pictures are proof of that.

They are also proof that my husband in the cutest thing in the world. As though there was any doubt.

1. Driving to Astoria (road near Longview, WA).
   

   Fact: there is sunshine right up until you get too close to Astoria.

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I have never really liked Las Vegas.

That statement may sound like blasphemy to some of you. And it’s almost a surprise to me, too. After all, Vegas is an entire town built around the Seven Deadly Sins – and you guys know how much I love those. I try to incorporate at least four of them into every single day (fact: I have eaten 3 desserts in the last 12 hours). But despite this, Vegas never managed to strike a chord with me.

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I hope you aren’t yet sick of hearing about our trip to Germany. I still need to tell you about the rest of that Europe excursion – we went to London and Madrid, too – as well as our jaunt to Vegas from which we’ve just returned (in a word, AMAZING. And this comes from a girl who hates Vegas). But right now, I’m not yet done thinking about Bavaria. The place is just too darn pretty – and we had too much fun – for me to get it out of my head. So I hope you don’t mind if I dwell on it, just a little bit longer.

Then I’ll you about churros and Spitalfields and neon lights and the rest of it. I promise.

But in the meantime, here are ten pictures from our trip.

1. The Neues Rathaus (New Town Hall) in downtown Munich:

One of my favorite places to pee in downtown Munich also happens to be in this building (relax: it's in a bathroom.)

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I intended to hang on to the elephant for longer. Rand bought him for me on a rainy afternoon at a toy store in Portland. He was sitting in clear bin in the window, with a zoofull of other animals.

A plastic menagerie.

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Rand and I have been planning out the year’s travel – or parts of it, anyway (There are a number of trips for which we can never plan. They come up last minute, usually in the early hours of the morning, when Rand will shout from his office something along the lines of ”I need to be in Boston in May,” or “I need to go to Las Vegas next month,” and ask me if I want to join him. Usually the answer is yes, but occasionally it is “COOKIES!” because I am fast asleep and that is primarily what I dream about). And when he mentioned that we’d have to move our annual pilgrimage to Ashland because of scheduling conflicts, I realized something: I didn’t write a word about our last trip there.

I figure it’s understandable: that trip was cut short – sandwiched between visits to Peru and Barcelona, and the six days we spent in Southern Oregon, going to the same place we go every year, didn’t seem worth writing about at the time.

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