Rosshill Farm, Galway

I groggily opened my eyes from a nap. The sun was shining in through the front car window. I was sitting in the passenger seat of our rental car, on a random gravel road, in the Irish countryside. The last thing I remember before falling asleep was leaving Rathbaun Farm and wishing I could hold a fuzzy lamb in my arms.

I heard footsteps walking towards the car. "I'm looking for another farm with lambs," Steve said as he got back in the driver's seat. "Rosshill Farm should be close. It came up on my search for nearby farms."

We took a couple more turns before driving up to what looked like a family farm. We followed the driveway to the back of the farmhouse and parked. "This looks like a private farm. We should go. I don't want to get arrested." I told Steve as we contemplated whether to get out of the car. 

"I'll at least see if they know of a farm we can go to," he said as he opened his door. Before he could step out, we saw a woman looking out at us from the house.

"Can I help you?" she asked. Steve walked up to her and asked whether she knew of farms we could visit. As they spoke, a pickup truck and trailer pulled up in the driveway. A tall man got out and walked towards them.

I sat in the car and watched them talk. I could see them all laughing. A few minutes later, Steve motioned for me to get out and join them.

"I don't have sheep or lambs, but I have horses and foals you can see," the man explained. "I'm Eamonn Hogan, and this is Rosshill Farm."

"Oh my gosh, yes! I would love that! Thank you so much!" I said excitedly. I reached into the car for my camera. "Is it okay if I take some pictures?"

"You can take as many pictures as you'd like," Mr. Hogan smiled.

We walked to the main stable. Three stunning stallions poked their heads out. Mr. Hogan told us that the farm bred Thoroughbred racehorses.

Let me pause for a moment and say that I've been obsessed with horses ever since I was a little girl. Like many little girls, I dreamed of riding horses, read every book I could about horses, and drew pictures of horses in my Lisa Frank notebooks. I read all the books in the "Thoroughbred" book series and wanted to be a jockey until I found out they had to weigh 100 pounds. I weighed well over 100 pounds by the fifth grade.

After visiting with the stallions, Mr. Hogan showed us another barn where a mare and her newborn foal were quietly resting. 

Outside the second barn was a beautiful pasture where four more mares and foals were grazing. "These foals are a few months old, born between late April and June," Mr. Hogan said.

I was amazed at how close they allowed me to get to them. I was able to stand about a foot away and snap some shots. The foals laid in the field as I approached, not even flinching. There was something very calming about being in that pasture with them.

When we walked back to the car, Mr. Hogan's daughters had just come home from hurling practice.

"What's hurling?" Steve and I asked.

"It's akin to American baseball," Mr. Hogan explained.

"What's American baseball?" the little girls asked, confused looks on their faces. We explained American baseball, football, and hockey. They, in turn, described hurling and Gaelic football.

Mrs. Hogan invited us into the house for coffee and the girls introduced us to Tayto crisps. Steve asked the girls about school, and we learned that kids in Ireland could either attend a Gaelic-centric school system or an English school system that taught Gaelic courses. We were loving every moment with the Hogan family. We had stumbled upon their home and in return, got to experience Irish culture and hospitality in a way tourist sites never could have provided.

As we were leaving, the girls gifted me a new bag of Tayto crisps and then showed me their new litter of kittens. "Could this place be any more idyllic?" I thought. I want to build a home just like this one someday.

The Hogans could not have been more hospitable and kind. They welcomed us strangers into their home after we showed up looking for lambs. We'll remember this afternoon fondly forever.

Rathbaun Farm, Galway

“All young animals are appealing but the lamb has been given an unfair share of charm.”

— James Heriot, All Creatures Great and Small

There is a part of me that feels like I belong in the English and Irish countryside. I dream of old stone walls covered in moss, rolling emerald fields under a layer of fog, horses peacefully grazing in the pasture. In this dream, I live in a cozy cottage with a thatched roof and flowers outside my window. Shepherd's pie in the oven and a kettle for tea on the stove. Yep, this is the life I want to lead.

Most of my dream stems from years of reading James Heriot, Jane Austen, Beatrix Potter, and other classic English authors. Clearly, they made a big impression on me growing up. To say I was a romantic is an understatement.

When Steve and I went on our honeymoon in July, we had three days in Ireland, five in Germany, and nine in Italy. Our first two days in Ireland were dedicated to seeing the southwest coast with our photographer but on our last day, we had to make our way to Dublin.

"Where should we stop on our way to Dublin?" Steve asked me as we packed our suitcases in Limerick.

"Well, I really want to hang out on a farm and cuddle baby sheep," I responded, almost whispering to myself so Steve wouldn't hear my first choice. I was convinced he'd tell me we could visit farms back in the US and that he'd rather drink Guinness at an Irish pub.

"Find a farm and we'll go," he said.

RATHBAUN FARM

When we arrived, there was only one other car in the parking lot. The only sound we heard was the sound of birds chirping in the trees above.

"Crap," I said to Steve, "what if the Farm is closed today?"

We followed the road to the farmhouse, let ourselves in through the red gate, and found a woman standing outside the farmhouse kitchen.

"Are we too late for the tour?" I asked her, worriedly.

"You're not part of the group that just arrived?" she asked. "Then you are just in time! There's a women's group from America waiting in the barn for the tour to start. It's the last tour of the day." I wanted to hug her.

Steve and I breathed a sigh of relief and ran to the barn. A gaggle of middle-aged American women stood in the aisle, looking at the different breeds of sheep in each pen. In the very last pen on the right were two lambs. My heart melted.

"I can never eat lamb again," I thought to myself.

Behind the main barn stood the one other man on the farm, Fintan Connolly. His dog, Ted, never left his side. Fintan waited for us to gather around him and then began his short lecture.

He gave us a history of the farm and told us a bit about the wool industry. "The price of wool has gone down 40% due to the demand in China. Most of the wool the western world uses for clothing is merino wool, which comes from Australia and New Zealand. The sheep on the farm are primarily used for meat, either lamb or mutton."

I thought back to the lambs in the pen behind him. I can't look at lamb on a menu the same way anymore.

"Only border collies are used as herd dogs in Ireland. Farms usually have one dog at a time, unless they're on a mountain top with lots of land to cover. Then the farm might have two dogs."

Seeing Ted made me miss my own dog at home. "Ted here sleeps in a pen near the sheep. He'll live to be about nineteen years old."

We all gasped. Nineteen years! That's a really long time for a dog Ted's size.

When Fintan heard us, he said "if you don't coddle the dog and let him sleep in the house, he'll grow to live that long."

I looked over at Steve, "Maybe we have Buddha sleep outside from now on." He laughed at me. "I'd like to see you try. You baby the crap out of her." He's right. I do.

After his lecture, Fintan let us bottle-feed the lambs, much to the delight of all the visitors. All but Steve perhaps. Amidst the oohs and aahs, Steve stepped back and watched the women circle the lambs, snapping photos with their phones and iPads.

Pretty sure Fintan had to pry the lambs out of our arms.

The last thing Fintan showed us was Ted at work. Fintan let three sheep out into the field and demonstrated the commands he gives Ted to herd the sheep back into the barn. "I'm literally in the movie Babe right now," I thought to myself.

Hot tea and scones are part of the tour, and Steve and I were definitely looking forward to this part. We entered the dining room and saw a table set for two. A sight for sore, starving eyes.

A woman came out of the kitchen with hot tea and coffee. Another woman followed behind her with a large plate of scones. I was in heaven.

As we stuffed our faces with warm scones and butter, word had quickly spread throughout the kitchen that we were on our honeymoon. Frances Quinn, the first woman we saw on the farm, sat and chatted with us, imparting her sage advice.

"I've been married 37 years," Frances said. "Marriage is hard work, but there's no trip like your honeymoon. She was so right.

Information Overload

I've been a rule follower my entire life. I was the kid in school who actually wanted to be the teacher's pet. I wanted to be the best daughter. And not surprisingly, I was an R.A. in college.

I've been called straight-edged, prude, a goody two-shoes, a party pooper, a Debbie downer, a wet blanket...

Heck, I'm still a rule follower. In my current career, not only do I follow the rules, I make the rules. I am a professional party pooper. Also known as a project manager.

But as an introvert and especially as an INFJ, I also have this deep, inner desire to break rules, to look at things differently, and to improve what's broken.

As I get older and become more self-aware, I find myself questioning rules more often. I'm learning to make decisions based on what's best for me, not because someone else told me to.

And at the end of the day, there are simply way too many rules to keep track of:

Drink coffee.

Don't drink coffee. 

Eat dairy.

Don't eat dairy.

Work out, but not too much.

Be more present.

Think about the future.

Sleep 8 hours a night.

Eat more greens.

Don't eat too much raw kale.

Don't work too hard.

Stop being lazy.

Sometimes, I just need to step away from the noise and listen to myself.

Magic in Ireland

I was nervous when we left for Ireland the day after our wedding. Everything in the next 24 hours had to work according to plan, meaning no forgotten passports, no bad weather, no flight delays, and no car accidents:

• 6 pm CST: Depart from O'Hare

• 7 am local time: Arrive in Shannon, Ireland

• 8 am: Pick up rental car

• 8:30 am: Learn how to drive on the left side of the road

• 10 am: Arrive in Limerick

• 10:30 am: Get hair and makeup done

• 12 pm: Meet Magic in the hotel lobby

Maciej "Magic" Suwalowski was our photographer. My husband and I didn't realize it at the time, but we were about to have the most memorable two days with Magic.

It's hard to describe Magic, other than that he is the coolest person I know and will likely ever know. Insanely creative and adventurous, super professional and yet, incredibly down-to-earth and hilarious. As much research and planning as I did for our photoshoot, once we met Magic, we just went with the flow.

First: We took a stroll through downtown Limerick, and we started to realize just how kind the Irish really are. When it started to rain, a gentleman walked over and gave us his umbrella.

When we stopped for coffee and doughnuts, they gave them to us - as a wedding gift. I think I need to wear my wedding dress in public more often.

For three hours, Steve and I felt like celebrities. A drink at Charlie Chaplin's Pub? Free champagne at The Buttery? Sure, why not! As we walked around downtown, we heard countless congratulations and well wishes. Steve and I were on cloud nine.

Next, we drove to Killaloe and made a pit stop at Lough Derg, where Magic taught us to loosen up in front of the camera. Steve was a natural.

The last stop of the day, the pièce de résistance: the Cliffs of Moher at sunset.

The Cliffs are a two-hour drive from Limerick. Magic showed us a spot, away from the crowds. We parked our car at a farmhouse and followed a gravel road to the edge of the island.

After a rainy day, the sunset was well worth the wait.

DAY TWO: We were lucky enough to hang out with Magic for a second day and first hit up Ross Castle. These rowboats reminded me of a scene from Anne of Green Gables.

After Ross Castle, we made our way to Conor Pass. We stopped for lunch along the way and just soaked up all the beautiful scenery around us. Despite the grey and rainy skies, we still couldn't get over how blessed we were to have this experience and how surreal it felt.

When we arrived at Conor Pass, we pulled over along the edge of a mountain and climbed up to a lagoon. I kept expecting a mythical creature to jump out of the water, like a scene from King Kong or Game of Thrones.

We ended our day driving down Slea Head Drive, one of the most scenic routes in Ireland.

A complete list of our memorable pit stops:

• Downtown Limerick

• Funky Donuts

• Charlie Chaplin's Pub

• The Buttery

• Lough Derg in Killaloe

• The Cliffs of Moher

• Ross Castle

• The Junction Bar

• Drove through the town of Adare

• Conor Pass

• Slea Head Drive

• Dunquin Pier

• The Sleeping Giant

• Dick Mack's Pub in Dingle

All photos in this post were taken by Magic: https://www.magicweddingphotographer.com/home/

“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”

— Oscar Wilde

Homemade Toothpaste

Making my own toothpaste and switching to a bamboo toothbrush were easy ways for me to reduce my plastic usage. Plus, homemade toothpaste lasts so much longer than the tubes of toothpaste I used to buy at the store. My first batch of homemade toothpaste lasted me three months and in that amount of time, my husband went through two tubes of Tom's of Maine toothpaste.

A couple things to note when it comes to using homemade toothpaste:

1. It's saltier than store-bought toothpaste, due to the baking soda.
2. It doesn't foam up like store-bought toothpaste.

But on the bright side, my teeth feel just as clean and I feel better knowing I'm using natural ingredients.

Quick and easy toothpaste recipe:

• 3 heaping tablespoons of coconut oil
• 2 tablespoons of baking soda
• 10-15 drops of peppermint oil (to taste)

Mix all the ingredients in a glass jar and set it by your toothbrush to use each day.