Sunday, August 30, 2015

what the fuck is wrong with me?

Readers, I stayed up til ten to five last night. Just being online, not even doing anything productive, or reading (despite the fact that I actually have a book to read).

TEN TO FIVE?? I wasn't even caffeinated.

The stupid thing is, I have no trouble sleeping, I love sleeping, I just can't make myself go to sleep. I don't mean fall asleep, that's fine too, no insomnia here - I just can't make the move to put down the book, close the laptop, stop messing with my skin, etc, and go the fuck to sleep.


Wednesday, August 26, 2015


I'm feeling very badly put together at the moment. My typos are in over-drive. My vision seems to have taken a dive for the worst. I'm dropping things a lot and missing things... I feel bleary and stupid and not strong. I'm malcoordinated. Misadjusted. Vague and sleepy and I don't know my arse from my elbow.

What do I need? Early nights, proprioceptive exercise, vitamins? I'm going for an eye test on Tuesday, and this time I'll go get glasses, no matter what the lovely optician recommends - I'm noticing my weakened sight more and more for in the last couple years, I didn't used to, but I'm squinting at things like an *aul one these days. Last time I went to my lovely optician, whose name is Nora Wickham (my mother loved going to her because she gave her the best prescription of her life, and also she said she felt like she was in a Jane Austen novel, and was one of 'Nora Wickham's ladies'), she said 'do your eyes a favour and don't wear your glasses'. So that was fine by me, but recently, Lenny Kravitz had a wardrobe malfunction, and split his rock god leather trousers right down the crotch seam, and dangled his goods in front of his audience (they were Swedish, so they probably weren't too afronted). I mentioned on Twitter that I was a little disappointed at the underwhelmingness, I'd expected something more epic, a piercing, something... a friend said, I think he did have a piercing. So I had to go back and peer at the still, again, like an aul one. If Nora tells me not to wear my glasses, I'll have to say, 'but Nora, I couldn't see Lenny's piercing!'

In other news, I got a surprise package in the post today - I'd forgotten that I bought a painting from an online friend that I know through all things maternal. Erin Darcy is a red haired maiden from the States who is an artist. She came over here as a tender teen to meet the young man in person with whom she'd fallen in love online. And she got married, and stayed, and now has two babies. Sadly, her parents are beloved to her, and her father is suffering from a pernicious form on early onset Alzheimer's. And she can't be there to be with him while he's still himself. It's cruel, especially because of their separation. She's currently having a sale to try and make some cash to get back for another visit. I love her current moon watercolours. This one ... oh, it sparkles far more than I realised. It's a magic little piece of sky in a bucket and I'm going to hang it over my bed.

You could go see if there's anything you like, or just browse for later - she does lovely family and mother and baby pictures, takes commissions, her work is simple but full of heart and love. This doesn't photograph so well in its plastic and with my shitty little camera - you can't see the sparkle or the depth of the blue in the bottom splashes. I'm very happy, though. I loves the moon. She's my friend.

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

ode to the weather

Oh, weather, you make me want to stay in bed, 
even as time whooshes away from me and nothing gets done. 
As I get nothing done.
 I just want to snuggle here, 
reading inconsequential things 
and not going out in the cold grey wet glare 
of this pissy fucking day. 

Monday, August 24, 2015

my son, my son

First one, he's on a yellow submarine, second, naked cannonball. 

And the weekend is over...

... and the sun shines on Monday morning.

Seriously, Ireland. Why? Why does the rain come for weekends? My poor friend with the party. The insane rain on Saturday night, it was torrential and sustained. Saturday the clouds were on the ground,  grey, grim, dark. It rained all day yesterday, constantly wet.

And Monday morning, the sun is out, the sky is shiny. Fer fuck's sake. 

Saturday, August 22, 2015


A beautiful night, last night - three wonderful friends, and I made delicious food. No really - my 70s favourites that make me feel celebratory, devilled eggs and guacamole say party! :) And a curry made with a very nice bought spice mix, lots of cassia and cinnamon in it. And when I was picking it out, a poor lady was looking for five spice and couldn't find it. I found it for her (I'm a good finder if I'm not looking for myself) because I looked under C for Chinese five spice but I didn't like to say, well, the alphabet, when she asked 'how did you do that??' because she was looking under F not C. 

I'm compulsive about helping people in supermarkets. It's frustrating, but today it was easy and I didn't feel intrusive. 

Anyway, curry with lentils, potatoes, aubergine, mushrooms, tomato and yoghurt. And coriander. Nom. Anne made rice, which was nice, because I rarely manage to make good rice. And I asked if I should make a nectarine crumble and Nora said 'YES' with great assertion. Cassie brought blueberries, and I threw them in and that was perfect. I don't make Irish crumble, with oats and what have you, I make a crisp, I guess, with lots of brown sugar and cinammon and buttterrrrr. I didn't measure, it worked perfectly. So good. 

Chats and wine and laughs with beautiful women. It's the best. 

Friday, August 21, 2015

I dreamed of Danielle on Monday. Or someday recently. Whatever. He came to Dublin to see me, despite several mis-starts and refusals to make crucial phone calls. Finally I was wandering Dublin, late, and he came round a corner in the misty night. He was short and kinda chunky compared to his actual self but it was all good because we went and sat down and I snuggled him comfortably.

I haven't heard from him in a good while - though he sounded good and future focussed when I did. I texted him to tell him I dreamed about him. He texted me back to tell me what colour t-shirt he was -actually wearing that day, and I mentioned his dream-chubbiness. Some time later I got a text back saying,

Woman, did you just call me fat??? :)

I keep looking at it and laughing. When Danielle's being funny, it's like summer rain.

I've dreamed significant dreams about him only a handful of times. It's odd to see what my subconscious does with someone I've never met. I've dreamed about Mary too (which makes sense, after all,  I go visit her house at least once a day :) But in the one dream, we met, and he was actually a sixteen year old boy who only came up to my boobs (he's 6'5, supposedly), and I was furious (especially because of the I-told-you-so quotient) but won over by his cheeky teenage appeal nonetheless.

Anyway, this is really just a post to tell Mary and Mwa that Dan is still alive and well enough to be funny. 

Hula Hoops

Apologies, I knew that would happen but I was lazy.

Fatty salty processed potato snacks that Axl buys for Bodhi and then I eat.
When we were younger, and had smaller fingers, we put them on the tips of our fingers and then bit down really really hard. Strangely delightful. 

Thursday, August 20, 2015

Just waved my son off on his way to the airport. Drowning my feelings in Hula Hoops. The snack kind, not the exercisey ring kind.

I'm trying not to think about plane  crashes and losing the child I love so intensely, or having to somehow go save him out there in the case of some other terrible accident.

Why does my brain do that? Why? I know he will swim in the pool and play and have fun and some neuro-normal time away from his sister that he richly deserves. It's all good. The sun is shining, I'm not in work. I do not need to eat another packet of Hula Hoops. 

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

shark week

It's been years since I wrote a period post. I used to be the Woman Who Talked About Periods. I don't seem to be that any more. Is that a good thing? Who knows. I don't really like being the woman who whines helplessly, has no life, and forgets things, much.

I forgot something spectacularly today - I went to the loo, took out my mooncup, binned my sanitary towel and ... went and walked the dog. As I started up the hill, I started to bleed, and realised I was very aware of it. Thought, oh, should have put the cup back in after all... then realised... I hadn't replaced my pad.

I had one in the car, and emergency one in the glove box. I had to walk back to the car, and the car park was unusually busy, so rather than park in front of the hedge facing the entrance to the hill, I had had to park further down, and a group of five young men were hanging round chatting right in front of the car. So I had no choice but to sit in the driver's seat and wiggle a pad haphazardly into my pants right in front of five (hopefully) oblivious men. Happily, I was wearing a long dress, but it was still a bit of a struggle. What could I do, though? I've no interest in being that woman who ran the marathon in protest with no tampon in. I mean, where to start, I'd hate to run a marathon about as much as I'd hate to run a marathon while bleeding freely. I mean, what a fucking time to run a marathon at. Though I guess long distance runners probably don't have much in the way of periods. Bet no one thought of that! Ha!

My brain has now gone to long distance swimming while bleeding freely, and the obvious shark risk that would bring about. I've been watching lots of shark attack programmes this week, it's been shark week on tv. Bodhi and I enjoy a good documentary, all the more if it's got giant sharks in it. But it's bad for me, it makes me scared in the deep end of the pool - remember that James Bond when the villain releases the sharks, a la Mr Burns releasing the hounds, in to the pool? I still have visions of sharks appearing out of sliding doors in the wall each time I swim. Danielle thought I was ridiculous when I confessed I still look around for fins when I swim in the sea - it's probably just as well I didn't tell him the 007 phobia :) It's not that I'm actually scared, or anything, I just have an active imagination.