Twas an Irish Kind of Weekend

The cold, blustery weather called me to my favorite pub: PJ Finnegan's in Westwood, New Jersey. The soundtrack for the drive? A Thousand Welcomes, every Saturday on WFUV.

I sat in the cozy corner...

...near a very stylish lady.

A glass of my favorite Irish brew: Magners cider, $5.

Want to visit a real pub in Ireland, and have no travel partner? Consider a group tour. I saw and fell in love with the country in my twenties doing just that. I went with CIE Tours.

I browsed in Irish Eyes Imports, which just relocated from Ridgewood to Westwood (162 Westwood Avenue).

I dreamt I was inside one of these colorful cottages by the sea.

Of course, I would be reading something fabulous under a blanket with a pot of tea, jam and...

Irish soda bread.

We hear a lot about local food, but also important, is supporting local downtown restaurants, cinemas and shops. "Store Closing" signs are far too common a sight in America today. I think of Bruce Springsteen's words in My Hometown, "Now Main Street's whitewashed windows and vacant stores. Seems like there ain't nobody wants to come down here no more." When spending hard-earned dollars, I try to patronize main street options most often instead of the mall, the latter which does little to foster a community spirit.


For DVD's, Neflix: good; Redbox, great; library: amazing. I watched a free copy of P.S. I Love You, with stunning scenery of the Emerald Isle, from my local library.

I loved that Hillary Swank's character shopped for her stylish fashions on eBay and its message of finding again that spirited, hopeful person we were before becoming jaded. But I loved most the reflection made by Harry Connick Jr.'s character, "We're so arrogant, aren't we? We're so afraid to age. We do everything we can to prevent it. But we don't realize what a privilege it is to grow old." Wise words in an age of bad Botox and an obsession with turning back the clock. Here's to looking forward with a grateful heart. Wrinkles and all.