Saturday, August 16, 2014

Monday, August 11, 2014

I loved Mary's picture of herself aflame (ok, she's standing in front of the burning weed pile, perspective perspective, but hey). My pen name's avatar is of a woman wearing flames. I feel periodical guilt about it, as it's far too sexy to represent anything to do with me. A more accurate representation would be of a woman coated in sludge.

I don't know if that's a real thought or an automatic negative one. If I was in a better mood I'd find it funny, even if it's not constructive. Sigh. I'll stop poking the bear by contemplating whether or not there's a market for unnatractive sludge-smut and go  take an anti-depressant, make sushi and walk the dog. 

Saturday, August 9, 2014


Despite the coffee, the dog's warm weight against my ankle is lulling me towards sleepy feelings. I have to put the chicken in the oven, and clear some shelves and move them and restack them and so on. Things... to ... do... zzzz

Aldi men

Sadly, Aldi is not yet selling cut-price men, but I was there a while ago and there was this guy checking out the work stuff - he was wearing combats and a tight black t shirt, he had a shaved head and tattoos, red hair, freckles, serious, craggy face. Serious muscles, broad chest and shoulderzzzz... I may or may not have stalked him round the shop a little.

Today at the check out an adorable dad and his adorable toddler. The teeny toddler was blond and crying and squirming round as the dad was loading the conveyer belt. The little guy was very blond and sweet-cheeked and not happy to be there . The dad had thick blond hair in one of those little top-knot ponytails, and a giant bushy red beard, and such a nice face. He didn't look too delighted to be there either - I imagine the cute blond mum was at home getting a lie-in, possibly after a bad night.

I debated standing behind them in line, but erred on the side of efficiency and queued behind the shorter line at the other til. I got out of the shop before he got to the cahs register, so that was the right decision, but I would really have liked to say to the baby, 'Oh, you are sooo cute and sooo grumpy,' and to say to that dad, 'and you're cute and tired'. But that would sound like flirting. I'm neither old enough or attractive enough to really make anyone's day with that sort of thing, I fear.

Lookin' forward to my fifties, though. 

Thursday, August 7, 2014

Catherine mentioned feeling helpless in regards to the Gaza conflict.

Here's a couple suggestions, and remember, the Irish Red Cross and Trocaire as well as others are providing food and medical aid if you want to donate.

Monday, August 4, 2014


The fireworks in Bray tonight were beautiful. Really great, towards the end. I sat and watched, they're one of my favourite things, and the mini-extravaganza towards the end made me smile with delight and good feeling.

ButI also thought about people in Gaza and the bombs whistling and falling and exploding, all the time. I thought about those children's loss and terror and trauma and how they will never enjoy fireworks again and I felt so grateful that I was born where and when I was, and that I live in a quiet seaside town where war does not threaten and where lights and noises in the sky are just for entertainment, oo and aah and flowery crackling stars and golden rain.

It's really just not fair

Saturday, August 2, 2014


it's my grandmother's birthday today. Or it would be, if she were still alive. I suppose we just change the grammar, not the vocabulary. It would have been her ninety-seventh birthday today.

I haven't heard from my father since the funeral. I've emailed him, but he didn't respond. I texted him this morning, asking if he was home, if he'd like us to come out and have some cake - I didn't mention the birthday, he loathes sentimentalism like marking anniversaries. Hours later, I get a text back saying 'Croquet has started.'

So that would be a no.

It's pathetic that I find this upsetting. Why do I keep expecting or hoping for some semblance of family when there isn't any? I should have just got in touch with the cousins... perhaps organised something.

I have no good way to end this post. 

fuck off, stupid dreams, seriously

Oh, subconscious.

So, I might meet a guy in a couple months. For a brief encounter, like. Which is fairly terrifying. My brain has decided to process this fact by sending me dreams about baggage - in the first, I was trying to pack to go home from his house, but couldn't manage all the random clutter I seemed to have brought with me. I swept some of it off a shelf and into my handbag but didn't know what to do with the rest, and so just lamely didn't go catch my flight.

Then I was kissing him on his bed and his mother came in and called me a whore because I'd taken my jeans off.

The other night I dreamed that I'd been at a conference or something for the weekend, and I had to pack to go home, but I had too much stuff - it was all spread around in a room of the hotel - not a bedroom, more like a back room, mine and other people's stuff. There was a folded up stroller. But most significant of all was a large paper shopping bag full of ... pasta sauce. That amazingly kept not leaking or spilling. TMI for this blog, but I'm going to trust that the only people now reading here can take it - so, yeah, when I'm planning to go meet this guy coincides with the first day of my period, give or take. Hence the bag of ragu, I presume. FML.

Then, today, a respite from the packing/clutter dreams, and a return to my wedding anxiety dream - this time a second wedding, meant to be a balm for the first one that didn't work so well - a modest, simple dress, white but not weddingy, an outside location, I can't remember what else. And then, lateness, no one being ready, stupid hair not working, delays, then rain, tears, everything gone wrong...

I would like to not have these dreams any more please.  No more weddings or children's birthday parties that I haven't organised properly. No more getting married to my husband again, thank you. And while we're at it, fewer boring work-anxiety dreams too. They're so boring and stressful! Not productive!

Please, some sex dreams. Some island paradise dreams. Some meeting famous people dreams... ok, Neil Gaiman was in the wedding dream, and it started off nice, I think he was going to come be a guest, but then Amanda Palmer messed it up, somehow. I think they had a fight. Shakes fist* Come on, sub-conscious, help me out a little bit. I feel like I haven't had a good dream, or a funny dream, in years. Less life and anxiety reflection and more alternative reality wish fulfillment, plz. 

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Little bit overwhelmed. Acute pms. Dead and terrified people in Gaza and a world of officials that will be happier when they're all dead and they don't have to think about it anymore. This looking the other way thing must be stressful.

A class with rude young adults in it who are late, disrespectful and disruptive - it's embarrassing to have to give out to an adult class like they're kids. I had to confiscate a fucking skateboard today.

The usual sibling narking at home, which is fine, at least, no worse than usual but my nerves, they working my last one.

And this woman I know online, her husband's awful cancer is escalating now, I fear the time for miracles may be past.

Sad. It's sad. 

Monday, July 28, 2014

Happy Birthday, dear Mary

Thank you for all the chicken news, the views, and the sweetness of your wonderful family that you share with us every day. 

There must be more to sixty than more joint pain! Please show us the way through :)

Have a beautiful day and a beautiful decade xx