The Irish Goodnight

Last Friday we went to a neighbor's house for a dinner party. My sister-in-law started this supper club and Deb and John were the next to man up. I'm sort of hoping no one calls me on this obligation because our dining room is a disaster area. Like one of those burned out buildings in Saving Private Ryan.

Right before dinner my husband started to feel unwell as we say. His stomach was bothering him. He was truly bummed because the man loves his dinner. And his lunch. And his breakfast. He asked me to say his goodbyes so he could go home without making a fuss and off he went.

When people noticed my husband was no longer with us, I told them he'd headed home. Our host John then said, "Oh the old Irish Goodnight." I've never heard this phrase before but that's exactly what happened. It was all great to see you, glad handing, munching on hors d'oeuvres and then poof my husband vanished.

So here's to John Carley for a classic one-liner. The Irish Goodnight.