Tuesday, May 06, 2003

(I tried to post this last night, but there was a problem with Blogger, so just pretend that the header says Monday night at around 11PM...)
There's been so much going on lately that I don't know where to begin... this weekend was just an action-packed, social butterfly fest. I got no housework done, of course, but it was all for community, right? Sacrifices must be made! :^)

Tonight was another cool bit of socializing. A friend had told me that there are some folks trying to get up a Celtic Association in town and that they meet the first Monday night of each month at McCarthy's, a local real, honest-to-goodness, Irish pub that real Irish people go to and work at. (I make that distinction because there's one or two bars in town that have Irish themes, but are mostly college-kid bars.) Anyway, I decided to go down and check it out, and had a great time. I was told "everyone bring your instruments", so I took my "bones" with me. I figured no one really wanted to hear me screech on the tin whistle or whine on the dulcimer, and it only took a few minutes for me to get back up to speed on the bones, even though it's probably been a year since I picked them up last. They're kinda like the tambourine--if you have a basic sense of rhythm and get the hang of holding them properly, then you're set. The friend who had clued me in to the meeting didn't make it, but I found some old friends there that I hadn't seen in a while, so I didn't feel out of place. There was a fiddle player (who explained the difference between a fiddle and a violin--a fiddle is violin that's had beer spilled on it), a bagpipe player (Scots, not Irish, but close enough), an accordian player, and my friend Dave, who brought his bodhran (his wife Jan was there, too, but she's a listener, not a player). I was too shy to stand up with the rest of the musicians (hard as that may be to believe), but I did play my bones at my table. The reason I was more timid than usual was that KET, the local public television station, was there filming. As it was, it was a small section of the pub we were in, so I think they ended up filming closeups of me playing, or hopefully just my hands. There was a time when several people told jokes, so since I was halfway through my Harp, I chimed in with my favorite Irish joke. Let's see if it translates to print:

An American tourist is visiting Dublin and goes to an old "curiosity shop" to look for souvenirs. It's a cluttered place, as most curiosity shops are, with every imaginable knick-knack and artifact for sale. He notices, high up on a shelf behind the counter, a human skull. He asks the proprietor, "Tell me about that skull." The proprietor answers, "Oh, well, you see, that is the skull of Brian Boru."
"Really!" says the tourist. "How much do you want for it?"
"For you, my boyo, only $500 American," the proprietor replies.
"I'll take it!" the American cries. He gets it home to America, installs it in a place of honor in his home, and takes great pride in showing it off to all of his friends. A few years later, the American goes back for another visit to Dublin and decides to visit the same curiosity shop. He shops around for a bit, then notices that, in the same spot as before, there is a skull on the shelf. He asks the proprietor, "Tell me about that skull." The proprietor answers, "Oh, well, you see, that is the skull of Brian Boru."
"How interesting," the American says. "Funny thing--I was in this same shop a few years ago and purchased a skull then that you assured me was the skull of Brian Boru. How can that be?"
"Well," said the proprietor, "isn't this skull just a bit smaller than the other one?"
"Yes," said the American.
"Well, that's it then," said the shop owner. "This one, you see, is the skull of Brian Boru as a child."

posted by #Debi at 6:38 AM | permalink | 0 comments


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Hi, I'm Debi. Once in a while I have a thought and I like to write it down before it goes away. This is where I write it.

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