My final full day in enchanted Ireland was indeed overflowing with magic and merrymaking. Dancer friend and I had two artistic achievements in sight for the afternoon. I had gone to Ireland with the preconceived agenda to work on a creative scheme I have been concocting for a while. I packed my old pirate wench costume, constructed by my mother circa ten years ago for a pirate themed going away party I was thrown before moving to NYC after college. The costume has served me quite well over the years, from piracy to medieval times and now to princess fairyland adventures. I found some extensions in my favorite store ever (Penney's or Primark, depending on the country) and I was ready to go. You may have taken note that on the Aran Islands I had the extensions in my hair as well, mainly because my original plan was to use Inis Mor as the backdrop. Due to inclement weather and ferry (not fairy)-induced nausea, I put the idea on the back burner until we made our way back to the shining sun-scape of Limerick where I knew there was some beautiful old abandoned ruins nestled in a woodland alcove. The project will someday soon culminate in a bit of a photo-saga with song, but I have attached a sneak preview of pics below to whet your appetite. After this fancy and free photo session, I accompanied Dancer friend to her university dance studios where I was so fortunate as to watch her work on some of her final masters solo performance. Stunning to be sure, and apparently Colin Dunne was lingering in the adjoining studio at one point, so I felt very certain that the creative gods and goddesses were smiling down upon our day's pursuits.
After a rigorous afternoon of artistic delight, we ventured back to the apartment to rest and get ready for an evening about town. We ordered some yummy thai food, sipped on some wine, and prettified ourselves to go meet friends for live music at a local venue. Now, let's be honest, I had a little bit of an agenda here. I'm sure we have all noticed thus far that wine plus mission equals Angela on fire. There is very little that can stop me when I get a notion stuck in my silly soul. The hair was curled, the cheeks were rouged, and we frolicked across town to Cobblestone Joe's, which was surprisingly busy for a Monday night when all was said and done. Not too long into the proceedings, a lovely little Irish leprechaun struck up some conversation with us slash me, noticing that none of us had native Irish accents. We chatted for a while until the girls decided to migrate elsewhere in the bar, though I managed to make my way back once more for more drinks and twice more for more conversation. Now, I'm certainly no Carrie Bradshaw, I would rather allude than detail, but when a girl wants some attention a girl can easily get some attention. I snagged this Irish rogue and had him trailing after us for the next three bars we paraded around over the course of the night. Despite the fact that my fervent intention to feel spry as a lilting Lady of the fields for my travels home the next afternoon, I will say that was the one thing I failed miserably to accomplish. However, one has to feel rather slightly embarrassed slash much more proud when asked back in your hometown post-holiday if your face is peeling because you got too much sun on vacation, but you have to honestly answer that no, it was from too much man with a face of stubble... Yes, high school, amazifying, absurd, let it go...
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