Desmond and the Spider Convention.

Where do spiders go to die? My house, I'd say. There are so many of them here it's like I've bumbled none-the-wiser into Ireland during their Annual Spiders' Convention: Charlotte -- Webbed or Webber?

And naturally, the elitist in me feels a great need to mark my boundaries. But spiders don't respond to pee-demarcations as dogs do. And unfortunately for me, my fight or flight instinct varies according to what I'm wearing. You'll never catch me stomping a spider in shorts and slippers. That's like walking into the Cullen house with a paper-cut.

(Yes. I made a Twilight reference. Bite me. --WOH-HO! And I'm on a roll!)

But it's true, spiders are meant to be fought with whilst wearing the right equipment. Because the spiders here are huge asses. No, I mean they actually have large bottoms and long legs. I wonder if they feel pressured by Sunny-island Spiders, to maintain that elusive size 2, or size 0.

What? So they're spiders, but they're not that different than Humans I assure you. Those little buggers have freaking conventions discussing the nature of great literary characters!

Which is why you must never, never underestimate a spider.

Especially when you're wearing shorts and flip-flops.

(Irish fun-fact#3: They have so many many rainbows!)

Desmond and the Dancing Monkey.

Life is unexpected, as long-time residents of this lovely blue-green marble know it to be. Yes, we humans understand that there are places on earth where gravity seemingly fails, places where the laws of physics become mere echoes of themselves (read: Disneyland); places where pain turns to masochistic joy, where we guard un-gold-like treasure with the barbarity of pirates.

Yes. Pirates.

Which is fair to say, because 'Pirates' is merely missing an M and a letter-placement swap from being 'Primates'.

Which is also fair to say, because sometimes we behave like monkeys. Barbaric monkeys. And I suppose occasionally it'd be nice to see a performing Monkey dressed as a Pirate balancing on a blue-green marble.

But sometimes it's just off-putting. And so I try my hardest to not be too expectant, because I know human-monkeys will, more often than not, let you down. And you, Other Human-Monkey, will fall flat on your face and the world will laugh, because circuses must deliver sweet-and-salted pleasure, at the expense of fumbling jesters. Insert Frownie Face here.

(Unrelated Irish fact#2: The wind sounds like a cranky old man dragging around his cranky old wagon.)

Desmond and the First Rains.

Ireland the Country has been great. Emphasis on the 'R' for that Scottish ring to the word. Why Scottish? Because it's close enough. I experienced me first real Irish rainy day today, and it's not at all bad. I love it. I love grey clouds, and rainy days.

Of course, I am also too busy living to get the photos off my camera into the laptop. You would think I have more time to do all these, but really I don't. And I don't quite know why either. Ah, Life. Full of ya mysteries. We don't question the Laws, we are just subjected to it.

Which is a dire, dire, way to look at it. But World, I've never been much of a fighter. No Sir, no progress for me. No porridge, no soup. Just the bread, and maybe Scotland. Because that's close enough.