Irish Fest 2013

Our Irish Fest adventure started early: Traffic was backed up. Everyone seemed to be arriving at 4 p.m.

"This is a blog post," Denise said as we drove around and were redirected to different parking lots. But the festival gods must have been smiling upon us; we paid five bucks for rock-star parking.

The store was in a new location this year, near the Miller Lite stage. Even though there were plenty of volunteers, it was busy so we jumped right in — Denise by the tchotchkes and me by the long-sleeved shirts.

The weather was unbelievably beautiful, one of those days when you just want to cling to summer, hanging out with your friends and refolding t-shirts warmed by the sun. (Or whatever you like to do on a sunny day.) Everyone who stopped by was in a great mood, even though we were already starting to run out of sizes. I got a chance to meet the fest's winning bakers, a family whose prize was gift certificates to the shop. They won for their molasses bread, scones, and lots of other treats. Yum!

Denise and I were done at 8, so we walked the grounds in search of reuben rolls and shepherd's pie. She had a second Miller Lite. "Why stop at one?" she said, a rare throwing of caution to the wind. (And she stopped at two, by the way.)

We were on the search for some twisted dough with cinnamon, which someone had raved about earlier. A couple times we felt like we were close to the dough, but the delicious cinnamon smell was from the roasted almonds.

It's really okay, though, because Irish Fest is not about trying new things. It's about going back to the same-ish things over and over and appreciating how good they are.

Ketchup already

I'm at work on a Saturday — for the first time ever, wah! — to move offices. It's much easier to move when you wear shorts and comfortable shoes. Plus I can make lots of noise and wander back and forth without irritating Jane and Kelsey.

So why am I not shuttling stuff to my new office right now? Well. I've gotten most of it done, but I've grown tired. Repinning stuff from the bulletin boards is mentally exhausting. (So is realizing that I have two framed photos of Ginger and none of Papaya.)

It's humbling to relocate, to confront the harsh reality of a decade's worth of habits. Take, for example, the top drawer — prime desk real estate. Unfortunately mine became a wasteland of things I thought I needed and forgot I had.

I am a ketchup hoarder.

Which is weird, because I don't use a lot of it. Maybe that's why some of the packets were oddly bloated; the time in my office did them no favors.

Apparently I also liked plastic rulers (about seven of them). And a lipstick I bought in Japan eight years ago, which was almost gone and never got used anyway because I kept other lipstick stubs for makeup emergencies.

But this move has taught me a lot. Like: Sunscreen belongs in a drawer, not on the desk. As well as: It's tough to corral paper clips. And: Rubber bands eventually get brittle and break.

This is a tiring day. But I'm pacing myself by eating stuff from Jane's snack drawer: honey mustard pretzels and half a sleeve of Girl Scout cookies. It's all good, right? I mean, they are going to expire next month and no one wants stale shortbread.

Now it's time to get back to work. Jane, you're right about the change of perspective. I just didn't realize it would start with the process of moving.