Going Irish

   There are two things that I am beyond a doubt. I am writer, and I'm Irish. I don't mean Irish in a "hey, my great-great-great-grandfather was from Ireland...I think the family name was Scapolini." way. I mean Irish in a "my grandparents are from Ireland and raised six VERY Irish children that attain accents when angry (or drunk)" way. I have always grown up in an Irish like environment. Family always coming and going, wakes filled with laughing, crying, and hidden alcohol (that's a whole other story), and the many evenings spent 'round a fireplace (or camp fire, or nightlight) listening to my dad tell folklore from the 'auld country'.

Looks like the story of the "Soul Cages" from the worried faces!

    And it was this very childhood and the stories in it that made me silently (or maybe not so silently) rage against the authors who defamed, twisted, and flat out misused the information and stories of the Irish pantheons and storytellers. So slowly, carefully, I crafted a story as only a child born of  a storyteller could. I decided to write a book using the true and accurate (to my knowledge and research) stories and folklore. I have always loved where my family came from, I was raised being told repeatedly by my father "Keely, your Irish".

      I didn't realize how true that statement was until I went to Ireland. In Southern California where fit bodies, sun tanned leather skin and Blond Hair in a Box rule, I am the odd duck out. I am pale with freckles (mostly gone, but I was really freckled as a child), brownish red hair, and curves that most girls pay heafty sums for here. But I am odd. So when I landed in Ireland and found that every one was as talkative as myself and could spin a story out of their life just like I always did,  it made me realize just how culturally 'Irish' my dad had raised me.

     I had come home. And if felt wonderful.

      So now I'm writing this book. I love it because I feel I can write the Good Folk of Ireland and all its glorious folktales and do it the justice and honesty it deserves. And a plot line hopefully worthy of the heroes of old. But for all of the little nuances that make me Irish, the simple fact that I wasn't raised there poses a problem when it comes to slang and dialect. My own cousins come from County Clare, and arrived in the 60's so other than gaining their accent, I don't know the slang. And I didn't know how Gaelic football (the MOST watched sport in Ireland, by the way) worked until I read the rules today for part of my story. Hell, its not even really going INTO the story, but  I need to know it for a character's sake.

      Writing is hard. Trying to find things out when you don't have a ton of friends from Ireland to help you with it is even harder. So for next two months despite my Irish heritage and upbringing, I must now GO IRISH. Its that or go home...or you know, to an Irish pub to nurse my wounds like any good Irish girl.
    

Rainageddon!

     Look out SoCal it's raining, and you know what that means! Get on your snow boots, down jackets, and thick scarfs because the temperature has hit 49 degrees! Remember to bubble wrap your children and get a couple of good books out, you're going to be stuck in traffic for the next five hours.

A plant in my garden during a break in the rain

    For those of you who don't live in Southern California, or have never visited us when we encounter a 'rain storm' let me enlighten you.

       For most of the world rain is a completely normal experience. You look at the rain and think 'I can just wear my hoodie' and then get on with your life. In Southern California most people take one look at drizzly rain and throw on a huge jacket and arm themselves with an umbrella. Now sure, I'm guilty of this, but to be fair its the ONLY TIME we're able to wear something even resembling fall fashion. The real problem here is driving.

      If you will recall an older entry I wrote on driving etiquette in the OC, then you will know how awful our traffic is. So you can imagine then just how god awful it is in the rain. People in California can barely drive (I should know, I've been 'almost' hit more times than I can count) and when the rain comes your safest bet--if you're smart or a visitor--is to just stay inside. Don't say I didn't warn you! I have seen a huge SUV spin out right in front my car because they were driving too fast, and CA roads are not designed for rain.

     Most people however treat it like a regular day and don't driver slower despite the knowledge of the slick roads--thus leading to 20 car pile-ups (car crashes). My personal favorite occurrence is a small fender bender where there is almost NO damage, but it doesn't stop 1.2 million people from wanting to look at it like its a new ride at Disneyland and creating traffic for NO GOOD REASON.

    I suppose my love of rain is in part due to my childhood, where I spent most of my rainy days happily listening to stories my dad would make up, read books, or snuggle into a couch with tomato soup and a movie. In other words, to enjoy the rain and use it as an excuse to not work. But most people in CA are hardly ever prepared for rain--not even a light misting.

    So please, if you visit while its raining and you want to live, stay inside while it rains. Or toddle over to a movie theater and stay there until the rain leaves (or the other people), because if you don't you'll be coming face to face with wild eyed freaked-out SoCal residences who will look at you and bemoan the rain that we actually need to keep our water sources and hills replenished. And you, you lucky people, only have to throw on a hoodie!

A Rose in my garden after a good soaking!