god loves the irish

I press my hand to stone and mortar and rough planks and feel anchored by two hundred years of purpose.

It might have been an ironworks or a boat builder and then fifty other things but on this last night of 2008 a woman stops in the basement of its life as a pub, thinking of the man who left sweat here so many generations before the internet and neonatal intensive care and lipgloss. Then she removes her hand and walks into the dark.

+++

The red fox snaps prop those stems up, sugarpie and so I did despite the blizzard warning. Weather-inappropriate stilettos plus a pair of saucy jeans I’d pretended were on sale plus one bottle wine, two double rye and gingers and two beer = a skull-ripping headache? Yeah, well. Yeah. Not my point though. The next morning doesn’t matter.

All that = a righteous return.

+++

We leave the restaurant near midnight and walk into a stinging, ice-splattering wind. We pass city hall as fireworks and bagpipes go off, muffled by the storm. Fat flakes stick to eyelashes and heels teeter through ankle-deep snow but that’s why you drink on a night like this. Inside-out warmth.

We stumble through the door at the Pogue and into pure, concentrated awesomeness and proof that 1) there is a god and 2) god offers refuge from storms in irish pubs and 3) god listens to early nineties hip-hop. We shake off the snow, order the beer that cracked my skull open the next day, and we Bust It.

+++

Before I had permanent eye bags I didn’t earn regard. I was a perky shell that needed something to be impressed upon it.

And so a night like this is a mix of juicy indulgence and self-mockery, of chasing the perky shell and thinking as I grasp after it I wouldn’t wish to be her again, even if it meant being spared. Why am I running?

But I know why. Because the rarity of embracing the fox makes that embrace sublime.

+++

In the car on the way to playschool Evan DJs from the backseat.

“Dey-lah, mommy. Dey-lah.”

I turn it on and smile, his head bobbing as he watches out the window, and just then I remember we didn’t kiss at midnight. We had our heads down in the storm.

+++

I’m a terrible friend right now. I am possessed with words and the first big deadline is only a few days away. I miss you—yes, you. You’ve had the new year too, and trips, and moves, and I miss you, but I’m distant.

Not much longer now. Almost time to let these beasts loose, and then to return.

Happy new year, sweets.

Comments

[maggie, dammit]

When I'm talking about amazing writers, about blogs I read because they are startlingly superior and original, you are one of the ones I am talking about. One of the things I'm most excited about in 2008 was discovering you. Best wishes in the new year, babe.

[thordora]

I think about it sometimes-if I could be spared-spared from abuse, from loss, from neglect, from illness, would I take it? Would I turn the clock back and start over?

And I say no. I even embrace my malfunctioning brain-because I LIKE who I am, even when I'm pissed at myself. And I like the memory I leave with my daughters. I think it's a good thing when you can move past, and accept it as YOU.

We hid from the storm, but had our own fun. ;) Good luck with that deadline friend.

[flutter]

Kate, honestly, you are magic.

[Hannah]

Your NYE sounds like a hoot and a half. We stayed in, although we did pop a cork on a bottle of bubbly and watched the grand parade festivities on TV.

Good luck with that deadline. When you get there, hang up the poncho and we'll go whoop 'er up. I may even haul my high heels out of storage for the occasion.

[Jo]

Happy New Year to you, Kate. You sound like you rang yours in with a hellofabell ;). I am so excited for your writing endeavor. It's all consuming; I know this from my college days as a 'writing major,' whatever that is. There is something drowning about sinking into your work. But it's all good - you are doing what you love - your friends understand. You will rise up soon, and we'll all be so proud. Glad, more than anything, you are enjoying life.

[Ashley]

happy new year to you too dear! will we see your name on the local bookstore shelves in 2009? i surely hope so.

[gigi]

you're just such a great writer.

[crazymumma]

happy new year. what a lovely writing.

I cannot even imagine fitting into bluejeans aside from my really loose ones. I am not ready at all to embrace my inner fox. Give me a few months. maybe.

[m]

Happy New Year to you, foxy lady!

We drank champagne and played board games while the boys slept. Not terribly foxy, but I did put on mascara and wore a red low-cut shirt. Very middle aged, but very content. Would have loved a night at a real Irish pub. Another year!

Much joy, peace, and blessings for the new year to you. It's going to be a great year!

[KYouell]

I do believe that my inner fox agrees that jeans are just not as comfy as we thought they were in high school. But I've got at least a decade on ya, so there ya go.

Happy New Year to you and yours, from a geek who was chatting online with her hubby across our network (he was 2 rooms over) until he came in for a kiss at midnight. I think we would have missed the kiss too if he hadn't noticed the time!

[Mayberry Magpie]

I just stumbled across you this evening after writing a post about serendipity, and my god, your prose is breathtaking and this discovery is magical on a Saturday filled with glorious happenstance.

I suppose superlatives are cheap, but truly there's nothing like you out here. Can't wait to read more.

[Bon]

a friend wrote me this morning, worried because she's been reading my posts, wondering if i feel like i've lost my self and want to get her back. this beloved friend lives far away in a hot resort climate, still an expat, with a maid, managing to be the fox even with two kids and a third coming, and sometimes i envy her the time she's got but not the life. i don't know how to explain that i wouldn't trade. that i lost myself - in the way she means - permanently and don't want her back. that other parts are still there, just biding, waiting for a moment when they can sneak out for awhile and glory, but the utter freedom? oh god, please no.

happy new year, beautiful. thinking of you as you coax everything into place.

[Lorraine]

You're like a modern Bronte!

[Ame I.]

the Pogue! My maiden name is Pogue. I have to send this to my dad and brother.

[beyond]

so many vivid images in one post! happy happy 2009, kate and family...

[LaskiGal]

Yay for stilettos. I don't wear 'em. But I pretend I'm someone who does.

Happy new year to you, sweet one :)

[Tracy]

Happy new year to you and yours, too. This year will bring you literary success and much happiness, and I can't wait to hear about it.

[Woman in a Window]

ha! Ok, focus erin, focus, but I keep cracking up by that "Are you serious?" look in your sidebar.

Jeans, stilettos, booming brains and the fox, all left on my bathroom floor a few apartments ago. Thank god! I couldn't pull a one of 'em off, but it's fun to think I might have one day long ago. but never the shoes, oh, never the shoes.

happy new year!

[Jason Dufair]

Thanks for giving it a name. Chris has that fox and I LOVE it. LOVE the chase.

We mixed port, homemade vodka infusions, a karaoke machine, a big pot of dal, and 30 or so revelers, sieved it through the thin membrane that separated 2008 and 2009 and ended up with a fine brew.

Happy New Year. Happy Book Year.

[Gal]

happy new year to you, too, mama.

[janet]

Even distracted by other words and deadlines, your writing captivates.

Happy 2009 to you, Kate. May it bring you much joy.

[tanya]

happy new year, a little late, sweet lady.