Galway Girl (my version)

Today I felt groggy. It was a groggy day outside, so it made sense. Not a lot makes sense in Ireland, so I took this to be a good thing.

Because I have been in Galway for 3 days, and because I have no money or ambition to buy actual food, I woke up to 2 pieces of toast with crunchy peanut butter. For lunch, to my dismay, a beautiful entrée did not appear in the fridge during the 5 hour gap, but rather I made two pieces of toast with peanut butter again. Except THIS time, I added a little nutella (or the knock-off brand, I’m poor remember?) and put the slices together to make a sandwich. Yeah. I had toast for breakfast and a sandwich for lunch. And for dinner? Well, what do you think?

Wrong. After my yoga class I became unrivaled with motivation and cooked some spaghetti and broccoli.

And then ate bread when I got hungry again.

Did I mention I went to Galway? Lovely town. Lovely people. I was welcomed by all glossy-eyed men aged over 50 with a few balding spots, and pints were handed off left and right to me. Grand, really. But the kicker is, alas, the bread.
During our tour of the Cliffs of Moher, we stopped in a restaurant that was serving lamb, and stew, and other things that I don’t like to eat. So, I went to the man doing the carving and asked for a plate of potatoes and bread. And he must have thought me to be odd, but he gave me a plate full of piping hot potatoes and poppy seed rolls. I then succeeded in talking the cashier into only charging me 3 euro for the food.

It’s amazing what one can do with a few Euros and a bargaining mind-set.

That night, we lasses were treated to a dinner in a local pub by Allison’s family friend. I got a big bowl of penne with broccoli and cheese sauce. And bread.
And while I was walking to my yoga class today, I began to think about lent. For no particular reason really, besides the fact that I’m living in an uuber catholic country, and I don’t practice an ounce of Christianity. But I began to think, and thinking led to an idea. I want to give something up for lent.

Not only to be one of those A la carte Catholics that only use religion for weddings, funerals, and fun drinking celebrations in between, but to also practice my self-determinism. I have begun consideration to give up bread for the duration of lent (I’m told it’s 40 days long). I haven’t decided if this is an incredible challenge that I am within realm of succeeding at, or if this is a terrible, terrible mistake. And should be put out of mind instantly.

Top 4 Reasons I am NOT a Galway Girl (though I will always squeal in delight for Gerard Butler):
1. I do not own a skirt shorter than the length of my ass.
2. I cannot support the terrible nutrition habits of Supermac customers at 3am.
3. Galway girls are tough, striking, crazy women. And I’m only two of the three.
4. GG’s (for the quick ones….) don’t dance. They sit posh-like and stare at me, shakin my butt to Sweet Home Alabama. And you know what? I just want to dance.