I am the MOST easily influenced person alive

Somebody give my a task, as I can't stick to the ones I think I want to finish. (Not whining). The only constants in my life: I love horses and barns and getting dirty with those horses in those barns (since age 3) and that I have wanted to travel and live abroad (since age 14).

I can be easily swayed.

Last Christmas I saw The Holiday and was ready to drop everything and head to England, imagining a life in a little cottage with a slate roof, padding around the hardwood floors in soft, cashmere sweaters and delicate necklaces. Oh, there would also be an incredibly handsome, crazy-about-me Englishmen who had inherited grand amounts of money from dead relatives so neither of us would have to work. We could stay inside by the fire all day and talk about how amazing I am, among other things.

I am sure that throughout the course of Christmas 2006 to Christmas 2007 I read a few books and saw a few movies that made me yearn to lead a life similar to one inked across spaced pages of a script, acted out in front of a camera. But nothing like P.S. I Love You.

I think P.S. I Love You Fever may be worse than The Holiday Fever was. These upcoming months are going to be rocky.

For the unaware: P.S. is about a 29 year-old New Yorker whose Irish husband dies. The rest of the movie is about her moving on, and lots of flashbacks of them together.

It will move the coldest, most frigid woman to cry.

It doesn't help that the husband is Gerard Butler and INSANELY charming and funny and handsome and HAS AN ACCENT. (Seeing this movie has further strengthened my If You Don't Have an Accent, Needn't Apply standard).

Back to the main point: I become infatuated very easily. I've played Galway Girl at least 27 times a day since seeing the film. I checked prices on airfare to Dublin for 30 minutes today. ($450 for spring break... too much). Incidentally, I was helping my mom clean out the basement today and found a write-up on my Irish ancestors. It went back to 1802, and I was psyched. My great-great-great grandpa, Raymond James Kelly (of County Clare) married my great-great-great grandma, Margaret Rohan (of County Kerry) in 1843; she was 39 years-old and had six children over the following 15 years--- giving birth to her youngest at 54 years-old. She lived to be 98. I always knew we Kelly women were a hardy bunch, but now I know why: Margaret Rohan.

Anywho, they actually married in Ontario; Margaret came in 1823 (at 19) and Raymond came in 1839. They had a farm and an apple orchard. In 1860, they moved to Niagra Falls, NY, but then financial strain from the Civil War caused them to move westward to "the wilderness of Allegan County, Michigan."

From there, there were more farms, more Civil War, World War I/II, and Korean war soldiers with uniforms bearing the Kelly name. From Allegan, they came to Flint, where I was born.

Here I am, 20 minutes south of where we landed in the 1940s.

Anyway, this post is long and scatter-brained, so I'll cut-to-the-chase:

-Easily swayed/ no focus
-finds Gerard Butler ungodly handsome
-had a really good book idea today
-moving to Ireland to write that book

Case Closed.

peace, love, and ponies.

"My shoes are all over the place. I have to pick them up, or they'll think I don't love them."
-Holly, P.S. I Love You