How Did We Get Here?

We've been settled into the cottage for three days, and neither of us are

freaked out as we ask ourselves, "What are we doing here? " "What

are we doing with our lives?" That is, we still ask those questions, but they don't freak us out.

All the paperwork getting us here worked beautifully. Pippin was the Star of Aer Lingus Flt 138 as the flight attendants said there was no reason to keep him in his kennel under the seat as regulations require; "because it is so hot down there." So he slept on Artemis's lap and they petted his head (and sometimes Artemis's boob) every time they passed by.

I heard about all that later, because I took a pill and slept for the entire flight. I remember the slight sensation of items being placed on my tray. That would have been the free beers and food that the attendants gave to Artemis because Pippin was so cute. He is, basically, Everyone's Emotional Support Animal. 

While we were in the offices of the Department of Agriculture (Doggie Immigration) we were careful to keep Pippin in Artemis's arms to avoid his smelling some old pee-mail and making a contribution to the thread. We then heard about that one time that the US Secret Service was in that very same room with their 17 dogs. The officer didn't exactly say that Obama's dogs peed their carpet, but that was the implication. 

We took a cab out to the country and then picked up our car, a Honda Fit. This is not the Honda Jazz, an identical model which is usually sold here, but a Fit from Japan with Japanese radio dials. The dealer said the radio "didn't work" but I was eventually able to get Radio Kerry which broadcasts in Irish, and that's all I ever wanted from an Irish radio. 

We then drove five hours to Kerry, where we were met by our dear friends, glasses of wine, and a delicious meal. Not much has happened here since besides more glasses of wine and meals, same.