… left in Ireland. And at least three and a half of those will be in an airport, which doesn’t really count. Then Boston, to do my four-month student exchange stint in BU.
A lot of lasts this week. Today was my last day in work. Last night was my last training session. Sunday will be my last camogie match, and my last night of revelry in Ollie’s.
Only four months I suppose.
Packing now. Or rather avoiding packing by making lists of things I need to pack. Taking four months’ supplies of some stuff. Am asking a lot of stupid questions like “Do they have saline solution in the Americas?” They must do, they’re very advanced.
It should be fun. The shopping, seeing all the Cheerses, the JFK stuff, the baseball, the soccer moms, going down to New York and shrieking “Ooh, I remember this from Sex and the City!” And just seeing so many Americans gathered in one place … I’m going to want to poke them and marvel at them. Hope for my sake I get over that urge pretty quickly.
Downsides: I’m not 21 until the end of September, so I’ll be relying on keg parties thrown by frat boys. (Unless keg parties thrown by frat boys are a myth sold to us by the makers of teen flicks.) And nobody will play hurling with me. I’ve emailed a load of people and they all say that GAA finishes up out there at the end of August. So, it’s clearly not as overwhelmingly Irish over there as I thought. Pity, I thought all I’d have to do would be to speak in my vaguely Tipperary accent and people would flock around me to do my bidding. Possibly not the case …
“Do they have saline solution in the Americas?”
When I wore contacts I had to mix my own using salt and distilled water.
I like the countdown. I’ve got a widget that’s at 33 days 13 hours and 57 minutes until Curtains. And then you can leagally drink too.
With a mortar and pestle, right?
CURTAINS! And LEGAL DRINKING! I’ll be torn between marinating in beer and wanting to be lucid enough to appreciate DHP. It’ll be quite a conundrum.
Hi there, my favourite Eimear! Leaving Ireland for the US, you be insane.
Ah, i know you’ll have a great time, and I reckon Ireland must feel rather small after 21 years. Legal drinking age, pah, like that has stopped one before. 
Talk to you soon, guess you’ll be in the states by then though!
I’ll end on a Peppe quote; “don’t push your mate, luck!”
“With a mortar and pestle, right?”
Yeah, and that’s after I mined the salt.
“CURTAINS! And LEGAL DRINKING! I’ll be torn between marinating in beer and wanting to be lucid enough to appreciate DHP. It’ll be quite a conundrum.”"
That’s easy enough to solve. You see the show then you drink.
By the way you should bring your Spamalot Playbill and get the lovely David to sign it.
Hey Eimear the Lemur! Ren is right – Curtains first and then when DHP invites us all to 21 for an after show booze up, we marinate ourselves – and him – in whatever is being served up.
Kajsa: Aww, my favourite Swede! I like you better than all of ABBA and the Cardigans put together.
Peppe is awesome, I hope you guys get married and come to live in Ireland and have lots of little Kajsas and Peppes. Do that.
Renee: Ooh, the Playbill! Excellent idea. Maybe I’ll tell him I was at Spamalot and he refused to sign for me, and I’ll make him hug me in contrition.
Jules: You are bad. Beyond bad. But … 21? That’d be appropriate! Though exclusive, and they might beat us out of there with sticks.