Tag: The Chieftains

Sweet Christmas

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 25 Comments
Aebleskiver, a.k.a. Danish pancake balls.

Happy happy joy joy to yis all, Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, Satanists, pagans, atheists, agnostics, the lot.

Miss Mia Sopaipilla made it a very meowy Christmas about 12:45, blasting us both out of bed with her air-raid siren of a morning voice, a symptom of advancing age and p’raps a bit of related hearing loss. “Arise and serve Me!”

No matter. We fell back to sleep, arose at a more suitable hour, and for reasons known only to Herself — “Well, I had this pan, you see. …” we broke fast with strong coffee, mandarines, and aebleskiver, some delicious little balls of sugar, flour, and fat, fried in butter on the stovetop. Miss Mia got some cream. We don’t hold grudges.

My stepgrandfather, John Jensen, was a Dane, but I don’t recall either him or Grandma Maude making aebleskiver for us when we would visit them in Sioux City. When the blood kin were otherwise occupied John would sneak me hits off his cigar and sips of beer, though. Baby steps. You gotta start ’em young if they’re gonna stick it out.

As we noshed we gave ear to the traditional holiday musical fare — “Merry Christmas from the Family,” Robert Earl Keen; “The Bells of Dublin,” The Chieftains (and friends); ”The Christians and the Pagans,” Dar Williams; “Christmas Card from a Hooker in Minneapolis,” Tom Waits — you know, the classics.

Then we unwrapped gifts — AirPods for Herself (she spends a lot of time on the iPhone/iPad, talking to friends, family and colleagues, listening to music or podcasts, watching “SNL,” Stephen Colbert, cute animal videos, etc. — and a couple graphic novels for Your Humble Narrator, among them the complete “Bodies” by the late Si Spencer, a time-traveling whodunit that got turned into a miniseries by Netflix.

Also, an official Guinness Extra Stout T-shirt in medium, because (a) I am no longer extra stout, and (2) a man of any gravity (or its opposite, comedy) can never have too many beer-related garments.

At some point there must be time for fat-burning exercise, because Santa knows we’ve been very, very bad, if only in a strict dietary sense. Also, I want to be able to wear that shirt.

So, go thou and do likewise. Mind the aebleskiver. Also, and too, the Guinness. Though I bet they make that T-shirt in an XXXL, too. Call it an inspired guess.

R.I.P., Paddy Moloney

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 7 Comments

Paddy Moloney, frontman and piper for the Chieftains, has gone west. He was 83.

Reports Mother Times, quoting Himself in The Philadelphia Inquirer:

“Our music is centuries old, but it is very much a living thing. We don’t use any flashing lights or smoke bombs or acrobats falling off the stage. We try to communicate a party feeling, and that’s something that everybody understands.”

I’m grieved to learn that Paddy has left the party to which he brought so much feeling. In his honor let us banish misfortune.

Reel scored for pennywhistle and putty knife

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 12 Comments

It’s not as boondocky as it looks: The Trek 520 shoot took place just west of Albuquerque.

There was a time when I might have begun St. Patrick’s Day with a dollop of Irish in the coffee and ended it with a few pints of the black, playing Clannad, The Chieftains and The Pogues in between.

Not this year.

We’d been contemplating the renovation of Herself’s office, and as it happens the dude who does that sort of thing for us was available this very week, the same week during which Herself was scheduled to take a business trip to Florida.

Bejaysis.

So instead of getting my Irish on I arose early to feed and water the menagerie, swallow a bit of (unenhanced) java, and record the voiceover on my Trek 520 video (see screenshot, above) before the hooley resumed. The cats took up their positions under the bed and Mister Boo — well, nothing fazes The Boo save a late meal, so he was fine.

And I broke out the old iPod Nano, the better to hear The Chieftains by. May yis all be in heaven a half hour before the divvil hears you’re dead.