(Me, overlooking the vast lack of internet connection.)
Today's Lesson: Ireland has yet to learn about the beauty of a stable internet connection, and it seems Wi-Fi is only in the vocabulary of the technologically advanced. Each hotel we’ve visited has told us upon arrival that their internet is “spotty”…which is a friendly way of saying, “There’s no bloody way in hell you’ll check your e-mail here.” As the travel companion (recently renamed 'Muscles') is an IT geek, this drives him nuts. It drives me nuts, simply because I’m an internet addict, and whittle away more time than I care to mention wondering if bloggers have popped out their babies or thinking about editing my photos.
The lack of predictable internet connection means photos and writing is rather backlogged. I only worry about this because I'm the type of traveler who, if she doesn't sort through photos and edit them promptly, becomes completely overwhelmed by the 500 (really...there are more than 500) photos awaiting sorting, editing, etc. and winds up never touching the heap of memories. I've sworn on the Bible that I'll catch up and share when I get back stateside. After Ireland, the next leg of my trip is in sunny California to see my best friend. Muscles is close friends with my best friend's husband (got that? I'll give you a second.....), so we'll be spending a few days with our favorite couple.
(A window in Adare. Unrelated, but lovely enough to barge in on this post.)
There's been talk of visiting the beach in Santa Cruz. My friends have told me not to worry about beaching in Santa Cruz, as it's filled with floppy grandmas in unflattering apparel, so no one will notice my lumps. Problem: This girl doesn't own a swimsuit.
Time to vote, dear readers: Do I stay firm on my lack of suit and rock shorts and a tank, or do I shop stateside, find a swell suit and decide not to care about my thunder thighs?