Time Travel

We're back in Islamorada, attempting to get our body clocks in sync with our surroundings.  Going East is always easy for me - the beginning of every trip always is - but coming back West is a bitch.  Reliving five or six hours (depending upon the time of year and if it's daylight's savings time) after being awake for eighteen hours is not fun, especially if those hours include flight delays and annoying American tourists.

I won't bore you with the details of our lengthy trip home because I'd come across as an ungrateful brat. Suffice to say it was typical airport stuff, but we finally caught up with each other in Miami (we were on different flights out of Dublin) and rented a car to come home.  I drove while Doug slept and Lauren talked/texted with the friends she missed while we were off trekking.

I wanted to drive on the left, but resisted the urge.

The highways were bright and busy.  I miss the twisty, green canopy-covered country roads of Kerry and Mayo.  There are no cows, sheep or donkeys for many, many miles.  I miss them, too.

At some point yesterday, after taking out the dogs - who are so happy we're home that they never leave my side...which makes for a very crowded bathroom - I needed to write.  I pulled my wheeled computer bag that I'd carried for three weeks over to my desk and unzipped the compartment that stores my laptop.  It was empty.  Frantically, I searched every compartment, finding all of them sans laptop.

Aw feck and shit, too!  I must have left it in Customs.  At Dublin Airport, I had to remove the laptop once while going through security and then a second time while going through Customs.  I must have forgotten to put it back the second time.  What if some bad guy took it and is savvy enough to pull personal information out of its memory?  Credit card numbers, our home address, information about the kids, SSNs?  The list running through my head was endless.

Dougie and Lauren were still asleep, doing a better job adjusting to the time change than me.  I knew I needed to call Dublin's Customs and Immigration Office immediately.  I sat down at my desk to look up the info online...but my laptop wasn't there.  I may have had tears in my eyes.  Thankfully, Dougie recently allowed us to upgrade to big girl phones, so I grabbed my iphone and found the number.

I spoke to a very kind man who said my laptop hadn't been turned in, but suggested I call at a more civilized hour.  I'd failed to consider it was 2:30am in Dublin.  I filed an online report for my missing laptop via my phone and waited.  I needed to stay busy or I'd go crazy.

I decided to make an Irish-inspired breakie.  I started with a vegetable tart and while it baked, I made boxty. While the tart cooled and the boxty fried, I made bacon, too.  As is always the case, just as the food is almost ready, the family woke and joined me in the kitchen.  Two nieces were with us - they'd stayed with Bear and Boozer while we explored Ireland.  It was a nice meal and helped to keep my mind off how bad things could be regarding my lost laptop.

Once Doug's belly was full and he'd had a cup of coffee, I broke the news.

"I've something to tell you and you're going to be really pissed," I said.

He waited.  He hears things like this from me often enough that he waits for more before getting excited.

"I left my laptop in Customs at Dublin.  I've already called to report it missing, but no one's turned it in yet."

I waited for a string of bad words and a few fist poundings on the counter, but instead he smiled.

"No you didn't.  I have it."

What!?!?  It was true.  The night before, he'd removed it from my laptop bag so he could order me a new battery.  (As of late, if I'm not plugged into a socket, the battery is good for only forty minutes or so.)  Talk about relief!  I hugged him tightly and sighed.

My laptop was safe at home.  My personal information was, too.  Do you know what else I was worried about?  I've begun two new novels, each one is upwards of 200 pages already, and I don't have them backed up on anything.  If my laptop had been lost, so too would those two books.  There's absolutely no way I could recreate them.  They'd be gone and I'd have been crushed.

As you can imagine, I'm so relieved and plan to back up both novels on multiple drives today.  Without delay.  Also on my list of to dos, is to mail a rum cake to Mr. John Doyle and his sister, the wonderful people at Camp Junction House for their extreme kindness to me and Lauren.  It's a small gesture and certainly doesn't repay them for all they did.  I also need to send off some thank yous to others who made our trip such a delight.

Between you me and the lamppost, I've begun to look at small farms for sale on the peninsula.  Just out of curiosity, sorta.  My head is still full of dreams of living on a small, clean farm with a few milkers, chickens, a donkey or two, goats and sheep.  I don't want a full-blown agricultural production, just enough of a farm to keep me busy and surrounded by hairy, four-legged beasts to love.  Imagine the fun Boozy would have with a donkey!!  Bear is a bit of a herder with us, so he'd probably love to boss around a few goats and sheep.

There are, of course, rules to be dealt with regarding Americans moving to Ireland to live and Americans buying property.  I've only just begun to research them, but I'm confident it can be done.

It's just a pipe dream for now, but one that makes me happy to chew on.  I'd love to return to the life my ancestors enjoyed - except I want indoor plumbing and heat.  Since there aren't many living, it's the best way I can think of to stay connected with those who've already moved on, including my Dad, who was also a farmer.  I don't need a lot.  I have more than I need.  I love Islamorada and its marine mammals, but Kerry and Mayo have a different kind of hold on my heart.

You can't escape your roots, I guess.  As a kid, I swore I'd never live on a farm or step in cow shit again. Forty years later, I can't think of a more wonderful way to live.  Convincing Dougie may be difficult, but I've done it before.  He understands how I feel about the Emerald Isle, at least to some degree.

Time travel is a funny thing.  I traveled through time zones and into the past.  I'm back in the present, but my mind is ever revisiting Ireland's old fashioned ways.  Before long, I'll have to answer that call to keep alive a way of life that may someday be gone.  For my Dad and all the Lavelle farmers who came before him.  For me, too.