Irish goodbye

At some point during the cFam xmas party last night, I realized that I didn’t know where mouse and the racc were. Oh, said Little Cat Z, they said an Irish goodbye. I’d never heard that term before (even though I have a significant amount of Irish DNA) but it means they sneaked out without saying goodbye to anyone (or at least most people).

This was a-okay with me!!!! When we and our next door cousins leave the moominbeach our usual way of saying “we’re out” is to honk a master salute as we are driving out. Long goodbyes have always driven me crazy. Some (but not all) of the cFam are prone to looooong goodbyes. The GG always says trying to leave FlaMan’s place is like talkin’ to Colombo, an old TV detective, and that’s kinda what happened yesterday when we were trying to leave his apartment.

Years and years ago when my beach urchins were very young, we were trying to leave the cFam grandparents’ condo in Crazy Old Florida to return to the Great White North. We had a breakfast plan at I fergit which fast food restaurant. We were in the in-law’s driveway trying to leave and I didn’t feel like we were ever gonna get outta there. I loved my in-laws but they segued into recommendations about various restaurants we should go to instead of our fast food choice. Nope. We wanna get outta Dodge and head north. I love Florida but when it’s time to go back north, it’s time.

The funny thing was that whatever that restaurant was, I LOVED the women at the window. I HATED the food. Oh well. It did get us outta Dodge.

P.S. The pic is scarves that our lovely nephew Flec (not his real name) uses to juggle. He is a fantastic juggler among many other things and the scarves are very handy when you are working with very young children, like the ones who were at yesterday’s party, including his daughter. We have some good people in our family(ies). I always have a good time talking to Flec.

One Response to “Irish goodbye”

  1. Margaret Says:

    My son-in-law can juggle a bit. I’m in awe of those who can! In my family, it was the Italian goodbye–long and protracted. Took at least 15 minutes on a good day.

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