Storm watching

We're right underneath a thunderstorm. The sky lights up and then a beat and a half later the thunder rumbles towards us, crackling at first but loud and bass as it seems to roll over the house, shaking the floors a little, impossibly loud for a second before it moves on. And then the rain batters the windows, the roof. First it was hail, rivalling the thunder, now it's just spilling rain. It all sounds so angry. Impotent raging.

 Thankfully, it is impotent here, and the most I have to fear is a wet bathroom floor. Sometimes strong wind drives the water into the roof and it drips down the cord of the fan and pools on the floor. No one's been electrocuted yet.

I go upstairs to watch out a corner of the window, and check on the kids. My boy lies oblivious, snug, after finally falling asleep. Olivia is tucked in, light on, immersed in her DS, throwing me an irritable 'what?' when I check she's ok.

As I look out the window, catch the lightening, I see my neighbour standing smoking outside his bungalow door, watching the sky. The smoke he exhales expands and expands out into the rainy dark and orange night, caught in the house light.

We're storm watching.

I hear hail again. This is strange time of year for hail.

time for another dose of Where the Hell is Matt?

f

I know I've posted this before, but I got a sudden urge to see it again, and true enough, sat there watching with my heart swelling and tears dripping off my nose.

I love the creative, sweet simplicity of these videos, and the idea behind them and how it formed organically. From people.

Here is some more about Matt, if you haven't seen already.

I didn't run out of petrol...

... it was the plug coil. I needed a new one. Two hundred euro. Sigh.

I don't have a metaphor for this.

I forgot how funny Ben was

I wish I'd been there. I would have lain my head in my  arms and cried with laughter. I really identify sympathise with that poor girl.

higher meaning

On the way home from Tesco today, just as I moved off from the lights, the car suddenly started slowing and juddering, and shaking and wobbling and rumbling, as if a small mechanical troll was doing salsa under the boot. After a while, whne my brain had slowly accepted there was a problem, and it was to do with the car, not the sky falling, I assumed it was a sudden flat tyre, as the car was rolling and out of steam etc. So I did the whole woman 'oh well, I'll just have to drive home on it, worry worry' thing, as the car went slower all the while, and amazingly, only ran to a crunching halt right inside our driveway.

At which point I realised the petrol gauge was lying and I was actually out of petrol, not only nearly out of petrol as I thought.

How cool that I got home! And that I was able to roll back down the lane and park neatly, not blocking anyone.

I'm also wondering about the stuck fuel gauge. Is it a message? A sign that I'm running on empty but my perspective has gone wonky and I don't realise? Heh.

mommy wants vodka

I slapped Olivia in Dunnes Stores today. I am the skanky mother of horror, and I don't even feel bad about it, her behaviour was so horrendous.

I think Christmas may well be cancelled in our house.

Holy. Fuck.

How did it start in The Excorcist. Did it sneak up slowly, or go straight to the head revolving?

Does walking round the town in her bare feet because her socks and shoes are uncomfortable, but refusing to look at any other pairs of shoes and running away from me in the shoe shop/being unbearable rude to the sweet assistant sound at all demonic to you?

treacle time bombs

Is it just me? I feel like the clocks are speeding, as if I'm hyper aware of the seconds falling away tictictictictictic but at the same time I feel like I'm moving through treacle and everything is just taking sooo looong to do. Shopping/dinner/work/blogging something... I'm super slow. Sllllooooow.

Is it just me? Do I need to take some drugs?

On a happier note, I'm just watching some nice live Rock on BBC and was busy fancying the tattooed muscley arms of the warhammer little bearded drummer when I focused on his face and realised it was - !

Yes! Looking quite the little Rarrr Pixie indeed, Dave Grohl.

Rock on Dave. Gotta say, I'd much rather look at/listen to you than your ginger vocalist...

anyone want to buy some adrenaline?

They ran late ... and then later. Then ran out of time. Nerves! All for nothing!

Tomorrow at 11...

Highland radio

I'll be on the radio tomorrow, at 12 Irish time. Highland Radio in Donegal! Talking about Friends of Breastfeeding.

The producer asked me if I could think of anywhere where it wasn't appropriate to breastfeed. Any ideas?

I suppose I should say the toilet, where many bfing mothers are sent to in this country.

world of comfy trousers

I went on a pyjama run to Dunnes yesterday. I have been lacking in the comfy trouser department of late. Well, no more!

Garb of choice at home for myself and Axel ever since we moved in together was either naked (if we'd just walked up the hill) or in comfies. Soft, unconfining comfy trousers. Or 'lounge pants'. Cal them what you will.

Yes, I know, I read the study about how people put on more weight if they wore expanding waisted trousers instead of something more confining. It makes sense.

But I feel all wrong at home in proper clothes. I manage it during the day, but there comes a point in the evening where the hoodie/comfie outfit calls to me. Like a 5 o clock martini beckons a European erotica writer ;)

So I bought stripey purple ones with a purple top, And stretchy purple ones with an ever so subtle Tweetie pattern on. And flannelly ones with a pink ribbon bow. And red ones with little polka dots and a bright blue bow. AND a Beety Boop sleepy top.  I made myself stop after that. Well, ok, after the stripey tights.

Just as well, as the machine declined my laser card. Oops. Funds are low.

Oh well, who cares, I've got comfies!

Controversial!

Gasp!

Do you think he fainted?


Ok, sorry, I'm posting this for badness.

And the fact that, if I'm honest, I don't have much time for people being squeamish about periods. When I posted a period post it made a couple menreaders angry. I know lots of women are still icked by period blood, many wouldn't use a moon cup because they'd have to touch it... well, not me.

And secondly because I was once known for being daring enough to talk freely about periods. Having one. Admitting I was having one there and then. Bleeding...

I will confess, that while back in the Day, period sex would have been on the cards. Now, nah, it ain't worth the mess. And I'm fairly sure I wouldn't be in the fucking mood.

Original article,  interesting comments...

flawed but sporadically awsome

Two of the women I proof for tell me I'm awesome in enthusiastic tones and I love it, because for an hour, their chapters are my babies and I want want them to love what I done with them.

Recently one of Niall's singer's friends found me through Friends of Breastfeeding and got in touch through Facebook. She said she recognised my style in the Friends' blog from the Myspace blog I used to do for the band. She needed some breastfeeding help and I tried to set her up with some.

She told me later she'd met Andrew and said I was the Queen of Breastfeeding. To which he apparently replied, 'No, she's the Queen of Motherhood'.

It's so not true, but god, how sweet, and of her to tell me, too, brought tears to my eyes.

So for this week, awesome and queen of motherhood will sit up there with procrastinating slacker and eater of too many chocolate ricecakes etc.

Google quote of the day:

Kurt Cobain: Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are.

Well, yes, Kurt. Yes it is. I would say that wanting to be dead/killing yourself is a waste of the person you are too.

But God knows I'm often guilty of being wiser in thought than I am in deed as well.

And no doubt you're giggling to yourself at the irony of that one right now. What was Google thinking?

Poor Kurt, from disaffected antihero to cautionary tale.




I still can't really watch this, it makes me sad. Even after all this time...

oops!

Perspective. I worry about the fact that I bring Olivia into school late virtually every day.

But there are worse mistakes to make. Poor Danielle.

sympathies

Someone I know, a friend of a friend, is suffering one of the worst on the list of Worst Fears most of us share.

A pointless, tragic, senseless loss. Her fiancee taken away without reason or care. I'm so sorry for their loss.

Most of us have woken in the early hours and seen the bed beside us empty, sent texts that weren't responded to, and been unable to stop ourselves from spinning the worst case scenario in our heads. The nightmare.

It is freezing, horrifying, heartbreaking, to see it come real for someone you know. I know she is surrounded by loving, caring people. I know she is uncommonly strong and capable and will shelter her children and manage, and manage. I know she knows this.

But it is also uncommonly cruel that she has to.

My heart aches and my eyes sting and I join in the wishes, the if onlies, the whys.

Last October

A year passes so fast.

I was googling for references to Alison Uttley ash keys and only came up with  myself. Leading me to read through last October. Join me, if you didn't then?

missing the horn section

I am Cleaning my kitchen. And listening to Bell X 1, specifically the last song on Blue Lights on the Runway, it's so beautiful. I wanted to share, but I can't properly, because it's not on the internet. Imagine that?

What you're going to get is a pared down version. And it doesn't do it justice, because what I love deep in the heart of me, is the sudden mellow sleepy sunday morning sex filled explosion of jazz horns at the end, offsetting the way he sings the understated yet intense 'my love, like ours' so perfectly.

If I could write my life with more artistic control than I actually possess, I would be lying in bed with this on repeat, having lazy sunday morning sex, but instead of seeing the face of god, I'm cleaning... which is the next best thing, right? I can cosy up next to godliness while I mop the floor instead.

Here's the bare bones of the song, still pretty, but not the same without the trumpets, sorry :(

I am aware...

that I eat far more ketchup than is seemly for one of my age...and, er, social standing.

I have it with inappropriate things* too. Like eggs.

*Not rude inappropriate, you filthers.

rejoice!

Bodhi ate some broccoli and he liked it.

thought process

I was just making dinner, and singing Ray LaMontagne to myself.

I'll lay down this bottle of wine, if you just be kind to me...

And very quickly, I realised my thoughts were actually heading in a different direction.

And before I knew it, I realised that I was composing in my head a Country song.

About doing it standing up.

Yup.You heard me.

Extra verses welcomed in comments.

Alert!

Tesco Red Pepper Pesto Hummus.

Oh yes.

nuthing much

Drinving round the north side in ever widening circles thanks to a silly mistake and the Dublin one way 'system'. Bah. Found it in the end, though. Thank you man in scary bunker style off-licence who gave me magic directions to exactly the right place. I thought I was searching in vain for an unfamiliar street sign but then oo! There it was! I woke up a sweetie baby though. Reeeelly sorry about that!

Olivia had a screaming freak out this morning about wearing socks/dealing with her overly physically affectionate friend she's been spending too much time with. Boundaries. He cross dresses in the opposite direction to her. They bond over their yearnings to be a different sex. He hugs her, too often and too hard for my girl who is not so into being touched. Parenthood is interesting.

It all seemed to get sorted though, despite the fact that she started crying like a newborn crack baby in the car outside school, when I had to force her shoes and socks on. I held it together though. Calm, calm. Axel didn't, he was ... terrified, aggressive and not constructive. Still, I've been there.

I picked up lots of work today. Cleaned the kitchen and cooked chicken that everyone liked, even a singer and a drummer. And two fussy children. Made people happy with biscuit cake that I FINALLY got round to making and delivering. Went to counselling and faced my bad habits with oh such firm convictions. Oh yes.

God, I'm soooo productive. Dynamic even. Yep, that's me.

for god's sake

Bodhi's a thumbsucker too.

*fixed the link*