Wednesday, October 29, 2014

i am feeling really sad these last few days

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

I'm not doing a gratitude journal, I promise, but I actually count my blessings quite often, surprising as you might find that.

I am so grateful that I sleep well. I suppose I've earned it after my solid years of sleep deprivation. Still... I struggle to get to bed early, and therefore am always exhausted all the time, but when I finally do let myself go to sleep, I mostly sleep all the way through til the morning, and I am not plagued by nightmares.

Sometimes anxiety dreams, perhaps that I've forgotten children's birthdays, or lost them - or frequently ones about work, most recently that the French baker from the Next Great  Baker show was critiquing my teaching technique, but no monsters.

AND, speaking of psyches getting into line, the other day I dreamed that JASON MOMOA WAS MY HUSBAND and he KISSED MY NECK. That was a big deal.

Gratuitous pic of Jason Momoa

Sunday, October 26, 2014


One more little thing.

Last... Monday? night, I slammed the tip of my finger in the car door. I pulled my hand away as the door shut, not realising my finger was in it, not registering the agony for what it was quickly enough. It hurt so much, I screamed fuckfuckaaaagh! and held my finger in my fist, afraid to look and find it had been crushed.

As it was, some blood was leaking out of the tip of my very bitten nail, a line of bruise was forming down it, and blue was blooming on the other side. Shooting pains radiated up it. I was terrified it was cracked or broken - I took Nurofen, I took Arnica, and the pain abated slowly. The shock took longer, and I sat at the computer typing awkwardly, elevating my finger, and sobbing, as I'm wont to do after injuring myself. I get pathetic. The shock. You know.

I stressed about wether to go to the doctor. The Arnica took the bruising away so fast - it's so worth getting it into you immediately. I didn't think a doctor would believe it had been as bad as it felt, given the lack of evidence. It was still tight and swollen, though. I looked it up a little, worried some more... but resolved to wait and see the next day, and go if it was worse.

It kept getting better, though. I checked in with the pharmacist as I had to be there, and she reassured me too - wait til the swelling goes, be patient with the nerve damage, take more Nurofen, see what happens, seeing as it's feeling better.

I just want to say how grateful I am that it's kept getting better, I didn't have to pay a doctor, get Xrayed, it's all good, just a tiny bit of tenderness in one  area left. I'm so thankful. I thought I could say it here as well as anywhere, a little prayer of gratitude, that things are not as bad as could have been.

Also, while I'm at it, I'm also grateful to the fellow traveller who once pulled me back out of the way of a car that time I went to cross the road after getting off the bus about twenty years ago.

Some of us are heroes, and some of us are people who can't manage to close a car door without endangering themselves. 

somewhere, deep, deep down...

there's a woman who looks like this inside me. 


My beautiful, mysterious alter ego who represents about .05% of my psyche and is relegated to some alternate plane of existence, in this life. Maybe next time round I'll get the chance to look like her. Not Kate Moss, per se, obviously. This is what I dreamed of as a (fat) teenager in excessive amounts of eye makeup. I had a point to make about all this, but I can't remember what it is. I just feel drawn to this picture. 

hilarious dream, courtesy of Axl

So, he's off to pick up the washing machine he bought last week. I'm extremely relieved, it's hard to do without a washing machine.

He just told me he dreamed he was in the car, stuck in a long line of traffic. Eventually he came to the hold-up. A guy in a bath tub and beside a washing machine, all being towed along by someone on a moped. Going really slowly.

In the dream, Axl said he pulled alongside them to overtake, and gave them a look of pure disgust. Then he turned his washing machine up to 7 and powered off ahead, all superior. 

Saturday, October 25, 2014


Axl is, given the chance, excessively neat. Having worked in retail since he was 18, he faces off the items in the fridges and the cupboard, slightly in the manner of Patrick Bergin's Abusive Husband character in Sleeping with the Enemy.

Since childhood, I've been unable to be organised. My room is as messy as it was when I was four. Debris spreads around me wherever I go; crumbs, papers, discarded cups and wrappers, books, underwear... really. I'm blaming it on Dyspraxia now, it makes as much sense as anything.

Obsessive neatness meets pathological messiness. He really, really should have married a nice Catholic mammy type.

** Stupid typos! Stupid brain affected by stupid chest condition! What else have I missed?

Thursday, October 16, 2014

My brain is buzzing with crafted little thoughts. Soundbites. This is why I'll never write a novel. I think in sentences. Sentences too long for Twitter, though.

Today's cake compliment: withheld from kids' bring and buy bakesale to be reserved for the grandparents at 2nd and 3rd class Grandparents' Day because the nice lady knows my cakes are always gorgeous. That's for the grandparents of those classes, they're not the inferior ones or anything.

Said nice lady owns a lovely cafe, if only she'd buy some cake. In fairness, I think she bakes too.

Am reading a book and weeping. It's about a bereaved 14 year old girl who's a bit of a misfit, and AIDS in its early days when no one understood it and the world was a far more homophobic place than it is now. The double tragedy of her loss and the grief in the book along with the picture of such a sad, terrifying, ignorant time... an epidemic of death and misunderstanding. It's awful to think about. A good book, though. I just wish I had a volume control for the Emotive Response.

In school in about 1990, we raised money for AIDS research, but they wouldn't let us donate it to that. They said it was too vague, hard to do, and made us give it to something else. I bet that we could have, though. 

Saturday, October 11, 2014


It's my mother's birthday. It would have been her birthday. She was born on this day, sixty-nine years ago.

I think the picture on the left's a school picture. Her mother used to force her into rag curls. She looks just like my brother and my son in it. Though, those wolf eyes are hers alone. The other picture looks more like me, eternal toddler that I am. Can you see those cute doggies, though? Apparently they used to hide under the barn for the entire time the female was in season. Very romantic.

I think my mother's birthday is a thing that doesn't exist anymore. The 12th of October 1945 is her birthdate, but the birthday is no more now that she's not here to get older. These little representations of her are as real as the idea of her at 69 could be.


Bodhi has a buddy in school whose parents I really like. His mother is American, and his dad is from Crumlin, and they've ended up in Bray, temporarily. They'll be going back to CA in a couple years, which is happy for them as they like it there, and they live in a teeny house in a shitty area here and I think they need the sunshine.

That aside, their company is great. She travels for work and he does the day to day parenting stuff while she's working. He likes to style himself as shy and taciturn, but in reality he gives good chat and is willing to come have tea with me and I've realised with pleasure recently that he's become a friend. It's so nice to have a male friend. He's told me about the break up of his first marriage and I've talked about how it feels to have the physical insecurities I do (to which I think he relates). And I think he can take it, this honest talking that I need in a friendship. I think it's a relief for him, because he'd rather the honesty too. And we're funny in the same way. He and Axl are a product of the same culture and era, they'd get on very well (and do, when given the chance) though Axl is not available for social interaction with anyone but his band buddies, so... ah well.

I love men's company. I love company generally, I have to confess. Being alone is fine, but I also get painfully lonely - I'm not introverted enough to do without the connection that other people provide.

It's nice though, this friendship that hinges on our kids' relationship and the facilitation of their friendship, but ... what am I trying to say? Hanging out with him is a simple pleasure, devoid of any tensions. I likes it.

Sunday, October 5, 2014

Repeat after self

I do not need a new handbag, or even a new to me handbag. I need to spend money on:

new car


dentist (this should really be the other way round)



shoes for child, if she'd wear them



new washing machine

a dryer

servicing boiler


new phone

batteries for house phone

joining Common Ground for co-op shopping

money for this year's Beavers

And so much more.