mizChartreuse || redefiningSuccess

Really, I love the Irish. They drink like champions. They’re loving, welcoming, and funny. Close family friends are called aunts, uncles and cousins, much like it works in African families. 

Last night, Sean and I met up with his longtime friends, Fred and Tanja, whom he’s known for nearly a decade and a half. We met everyone out at the Abbey Pub, where Tanja’s fabulous mother, Helene, has been bartending for 16 years. In addition to those three, there was an Aunt Mary, another Aunt Mary, and a man named Don there. 

Fred, Tanja, and her extended family had attended a baby shower earlier that day, which, much to Tanja and Helene’s chagrin, was completely DRY. That does not fly with most people, but especially doesn’t jive with those of the Irish persuasion.

After we all downed a number of Ketel tonics, Sapphire tonics, and Miller Lites, we went over to Helene’s house. Adorned with a number of beautiful welcoming Irish decorations, it was the perfect place to have a nightcaps or two and chat in a quieter environment.

One of the first things we noticed upon arrival was Helene’s baby-themed word scramble, clearly from the shower earlier that afternoon.

milk, mommy, wine, wine, wine, wine, cigarettes, cigarettes, cigarettes, cigarettes, stroller, wine, wine, wine.

HILARIOUS.

At first I thought it was a grocery list,  but then I saw the “Milk,” and “Mommy.” Looks like Helene was off to a good start and just gave up, throwing in a “Stroller” here and a “High Chair” there.

I LOVE THAT WOMAN!

Helene’s your classic, warm, funny, loving, tiny 50-something Irish woman, with that wonderful accent and a love for booze. In fact, her grocery list may as well have consisted of wine wine wine and cigarettes cigarettes cigarettes. And her personality is ten times bigger than her small self.

“I make the best tips at the bar,” she told. “I know how to work the crowds–compliment girls’ outfits; schmooze the boys.” I high-fived her. People love me when I’m working at the bar, too.

Helene poured herself a glass of wine and me a Svedka diet. She and I bonded over our Parliaments and cocktails, talking about life, liquor, working in the bar industry and the world.

She’s lived everywhere–in West Africa for six years; in Spain and other European countries; in the southern part of the States. I told her how I’ve traveled to London and France, but most importantly, Ghana, Kenya, Malawi, and Zambia, where my family is from.

“Africa is BEAUTIFUL,” she emphatically said in her Irish accent. “They’re the most beautiful people in the world, and these people in this country have NO idea! Americans are the most ignorant folk in the world.” She told me about how at her other job, grown people would ask her, “So, do you have toilets in Ireland? Are there bathrooms? Or outhouses?” 

You know.

And she told Sean, “Your girlfriend is gorgeous. Take care of this one; you know she can have whatever guy she wants.” LOL. Tell ‘im, mama. He later said some smarmy comment making fun of her while she was grabbing ice in the freezer. “Fuck you, Sean!” she yelled. HILARIOUS.

“Oh, I love Sean,” she later declared, swigging her wine. “He’s such a good boy. And I loooove my Freddie! He takes care of my girl. I can’t wait for him and Tanja to have babies. You best believe I’ll be allll over them!”

Anyhow—I know who I’ll be hanging out with this summer. It’ll be me, Helene, and wine wine wine cigarettes cigarettes cigarettes.