Cork Calling

I had a wonderful, wonderful time in the mountains. I always do. But any time you leave town, there are sacrifices. You're going to miss things. While you were rocking at the Celtic Block Party in Waldo on Sunday, I was replacing rails on the old Aspen fence around our cabin. On Friday night, while you all were enjoying Gaelic Storm at the Grand Emporium, I was driving West through dreary central Kansas. But it warms my heart to know that even so far away, I was not forgotten. That Friday night at about 11:30, I had just pulled in to the parking lot at the Baltzell Motel in Great Bend. The Baltzell, if by any chance you don't know it, looks a lot like the Bates Motel from Psycho, only not as nice and with less taxidermy. But I was exhausted, and any (cheap) port in a storm. As I got out of the car, my cell phone rang. The caller ID thingy said that it was my sister Peggy calling. The voice on the other end though, belonged to Patrick Murphy of Gaelic Storm. Having just finished his set a few, or perhaps several, beers earlier, he thoughtfully called to reprimand me for not being there and to tell me how much he was looking forward to being back for Irish Fest Labor Day weekend.

And I promise, I'll be here for that.