MidWestInIreland

I'm from Iowa and I married into an Irish family. Nobody has asked me to leave yet. Dry one-liners and a small story a day. Follow for tomorrow's.

I said "sure look" at dinner with the in-laws and everyone nodded. I still don't know what I agreed to.

Ireland. A kitchen in Mayo. My mother-in-law was halfway through the dinner when she checked the fridge and sighed. "Would you ever run down to the shop and get the messages for me?" I said of course, and grabbed the keys. Then I waited for her to tell me who the messages were from. She went back to the potatoes. Where I grew up, a message is something someone asks you to pass on. So I drove down to the shop, went to the till, and asked the woman there if anyone had left a message for us. She looked at me for a long time. Then she asked who I belonged to. I told her. She nodded slowly, like that explained everything, and put milk, a sliced pan and a packet of rashers on the counter. My mother-in-law said that was exactly what she needed. Nobody else in the kitchen seemed surprised. Two years now I've been getting the messages. Nobody has ever given me a single message.

Everyone in Ireland thanks the bus driver on the way off. I've caught it. This morning I thanked the self-checkout in Tesco and it said there was an unexpected item in the bagging area.

My mother-in-law said she didn't want any fuss for her birthday. I believed her. I've been apologising since March.

Leaving my in-laws' house takes three goodbyes: one in the kitchen, one at the front door, and one through the car window while I'm reversing out.

An Post says 2,600 postboxes can now take small parcels. No more post office queue. Back in Iowa, you put it in your own mailbox and flip the little red flag up. Here, the post office queue is where my father-in-law gets his news. He's decided every parcel he owns is too big.

Hozier and Jessie Buckley have covered Fairytale of New York for the Shane MacGowan tribute album. Back in Iowa, the Christmas song everybody knows by heart is Jingle Bells. Here, it's two people calling each other names on Christmas Eve. My in-laws call it the romantic one.

My mother-in-law said she was giving out to my brother-in-law. Back in Iowa, giving out means handing stuff out, so I asked if there was any left. There was plenty. I got mine for asking.

Back in Iowa, wet laundry goes in the dryer and you forget about it. At the in-laws', it goes out on the line, comes in when it rains, goes on the radiators, then back out for the first bit of sun. My jeans have been drying since Thursday.

Back in Iowa, hot water just comes out of the tap. At the in-laws', someone switches on the immersion half an hour before you shower. I left it on overnight once. It still comes up at Christmas.

My wife's uncle said "Come here to me." Back in Iowa, that means walk over, so I got up. We were already sitting on the same couch.

They said if I got to the bridge, I'd gone too far. Back in Iowa, every house has a number you can read from the road. I found the bridge on the first try. The house took two more passes.

My brothers-in-law asked me down to the pub for one. Back in Iowa, you buy your own beer, so one means one. Here, there were six of us, and they do rounds. One means six.

My father-in-law said "You'll have a cup of tea." Back in Iowa, that's an offer, so I said no thanks. Here, it's a forecast. I had two.

The Guinness Storehouse has a 26-foot Christmas tree up already, with a harp on top. Back in Iowa, the top of the tree gets a star or an angel. Here, the harp is already on the coins, the passports and the pint glasses. The tree was the last thing holding out.

Dublin By Night Fest is on tomorrow. City centre shops are staying open late for it. Back in Iowa, late-night shopping is Casey's at midnight for a bag of ice. Here, they put a stage on Dame Street so you'll walk past the shops on purpose.

I offered to help with the shopping bags. She said "You're alright." Back in Iowa, that means keep going. I carried them to the kitchen before anyone explained it meant no thanks.

The forecast says the weekend will start misty and foggy. Back in Iowa, fog on a straight road is just a slower drive. Here, the roads were never straight to begin with. The fog's just keeping it a surprise.

I told my mother-in-law her coat was lovely. She said "Go 'way outta that." Back in Iowa, when someone tells you to go away, you go. I was in the car with the engine running before anyone explained it was a thank you.