Happy Halloween!

We had a quiet but successful party last night. There was the jelly lucky dip, the mysterious Box of Squish (this year with Human Heart! - peeled beef tomato - added to the eyeballs for the squishy surprise). Funny to see who's brave and who's alarmed by such things. There was a mummy wrapping contest (damn cheap toilet roll kept breaking, and poor Bodhi burst from his wrappings wailing 'I didn't WANT to be a mummy, I wanted to be a DADDY!!!' There was also the styrofoam ball lucky dip, so now that's all over the kitchen floor, thanks to my kids' delight in how they feel. Apparently hoovering them up brings them less delight though, for some reason. We did blue Halloween potions. I painted the window, we carved pumpkins, we hung bats. I made too much food, as usual.

 It felt strangely ... I don't know... tenser than usual? I'm not sure why, but I'll put it down to my cold that grew into something slight more than a cold through the evening, til I just wanted a cup of tea and a snuggle. Uuurgh, I feel unwell. 4 am wake ups with sore throat and chills and sweats and congestion. Blehhhh. It's pissed rain all day, and I hope hope it will clear up for trickertreating, as I don't feel up to dragging my sick ass and two whiny children round in the rain.

But. I have sparklers, I have pumpkin pie, we're going to a friend's house to kick it off, should be grand.

ack

materialistic yearnings

Yes, yes, we know I have many. I've established that.

But there is this one thing.

In a wooden box on his chest of drawers, in his dressing room, my father keeps a small silver milkmaid. She is a baby rattle. She is perhaps three inches high. She wears an apron and a little mob cap and her cheeks are sweetly apple rounded. She is perfect.

My mother told me that my father gave her to me when I was a baby, and that when I dropped it from my pram, he took it back. Bad child...

Perhaps that's why I want it still, with the deep, primal yearning of a small child crying for something she's not allowed have.

I used to sneak in and look at it, among the masculine, paternal debris that collected on his chest of drawers. The leather smell of men's shoes and expensive suits and ties. The green baize inside the box, it's smooth hinges, piles of loose change and cash, condoms... an alien territory.

He has a brass shackle he uses as a keyring, something significant from his sailing days, I think, that I seem to know he will leave to my brother. Someone must have told me that.

I worry, when I think about it, when I let myself feel the tiny weight of that sweet little thing in my hand, imagine it on a silver chain around my neck. Will he leave it to me?

I see myself going to his wife after he dies, asking for it. Walking away from the home that is now solely hers and touching the cheek of the little milkmaid, listening to her quiet rattle.

definition of irony

Every year on this day I hoover up all the cobwebs that have amassed over the previous little while... and then I hang up fake cobwebs for the Halloween party.

so much to do!

I have so much on... working, cleaning, decorating, crafting, baking, cleaning, party game prep, story to write, more work to do... agh!

Goddess of domesticity lend me industry, or a clone of myself, or even better, a clone of someone more industrious than me.

Busy busy!

And DAMN this weather is mental.

I bought nice warmy socks in Tesco today, though. That cheered me. Now all I need is a frozen eternal moment to sit by the fire sipping hot whiskey and reading in them.

grave matters

I've been thinking about my earthly remains the last while. I could wonder why, but maybe all of us do it. Maybe everyone who's lost someone does it. I know my mother's complete and utter lack of preparation or written instruction left us all in the shit when it came to her burial. I don't want to do that.

But as far as I know, I've no family plot, I don't have the family for it and if there is one I don't know that I'm welcome or particularly enthusiastic about that idea anyway. Made me wish I'd bought a plot before land was so scarce here, before there were so many people - now it's like purchasing a 2x6 foot basement appartment...

I don't want to be cremated. I couldn't attend my mother's cremation. The idea is all wrong to me. I want to go back to the earth, and fertilise it and grow into new things. Danielle said it's water we come from, we develop into, and I agree, but I still want my body to dissolve into the earth, not ... slime and fishfood  :) I also really miss having a place to go visit - not everyone needs that, but it would work for me.

Axel wants to be cremated, and scattered by firework. Alrightee.

I was worrying about this, indeed. But! I recently read about a natural burial site in Wexford, first of its kind in Ireland and right up my street. One issue against burial is the ecological impact - here is a beautiful solution.

Green Coffins Ireland have purchased land beside Woodbrook House in Wexford. Their intention is to plant a tree on every grave, and create new woodland as the wood matures. With native trees. It's in a beautiful setting, any loved ones can visit my grave by having a nice walk in the woods. And it's affordable! They also offer a range of eco coffins.

I'm almost excited at the idea. They're looking for new sites round the country too. The deforestation of Ireland has always made me sad, and I love the idea of  - instead of granite jungles of managed tombstones - we reafforest parts of the country with our dead. Two birds...

The website says:

Gone are the marble headstones and concrete surrounds that are common place in Irish graveyards, replaced instead by a small grave marker and the planting of a native Irish tree. Visitors will be able to walk along pathways surrounded by native Irish trees and flowers, spotting wildlife in their newly created habitats.



These natural burial grounds will be sacred and natural places where people of all faiths and those without any religion will find a beautiful final resting place. Allowing your funeral to be used as a conservation tool will leave a legacy of care and respect for our planet.





Yes yes.

sometimes this job sucks...

It seems I've just got to the root of the friendshio problems Olivia's been having for the last few months. She's been part of an intense little triangle of people since the first year of school, but the male core of the triangle has altered his allegiences and apparently wants her out - not that he's told her, he's just making her days miserable in the hopes that she'll go. Or something. And she's blaming it on the friend that he's currently got a grá for, but his mother thinks that's a bit of transferrence.

I just tried to talk to her about it, suggesting that things change, and friendships come and go - wiht a view to encouragng the idea of new, alternative relationships again.

'Well, X isn't like that, it will never be like that with him,' she said, her face clouding. 'I don't want to talk about it anymore.'


He's the one person she will admit to loving in her little life. And now he's dumping her.

It's so hard. They're seven. You can't force people to like your child. It's not like adults don't get into this too, god knows. But now I have to try and give her alternatives without making her feel it's her fault he doesn't like her anymore. I wonder if Olivia is blighted with my friendship curse, along with all the rest of the things she's inherited from me?

It's so hard. This job. I have a bad feeling about what's coming next. About trying to equip her with the skills of not needing anyone too much, of lettng it roll off her and finding alternatives. I mean, how am I supposed to be able to teach her that?

Pre-Halloween partying

I can't resist!

Axel let out a looong scream when Olivia jumped out at him as he came out of the shower. I don't think it was the fear of the bloodsucking visage she presented though. I suspect it was the vision of the future that this 7 year old presents :)

That's one happy dragon there too, isn't it?

Gross foot post alert

Olivia and I just had a crack up over this foot exfoliation product I spotted in a Facebook ad.

It's hilariously revolting.

I recently found out about the fish pedicure, where teenyfish nibble all the dead skin off your feet - and idea that both alarms and attracts me... soft pink feet would be nice.

I think this one might be even more horrible though. And the worst thing is, they really don't say how it works...

I do like the warnings about the terrible consequence that is Odour Feet, though.

Does anyone want to road test it and let me know?

it gets better Spirit Day

I'm just going to rob Janine's post on the suicice of young gay teenagers who are being bullied, and hope you'd read it and pass it on to anyone you think might need it. Such a horrible thing.

Strands by Stephen Shannon, lovely song and vid

I used to know this guy from the village - he was all Metal... all old and cool - he used to play in a band at the same time Axl did when I met him, and that was all Metal too...

a while back I found out he was married to Sinead Gleeson, who I knew a little from college - she's gone on to have a journalism career I'm envious of  and delighted by - and he's a producer and making a very different sort of music these days.

Isn't this delightful? And the Sugarloaf Mountain is in it :) (no it's not! It's the States! Baha - I see Wicklow everywhere... )
This is my new Fireflies, Dan. I may be putting this on repeat, minus the Cosmos and self empowering dancing :)



Here's info - gig on Friday?

how moustaches grow

How do you grow yours?

All of a sudden, I imagine opening a moustache shop. Bar? Emporium??

if you'll excuse me...

I saw this picture on The Sartorialist - this guy's been on there before.

Isn't he gorgeous? Shining. I commented that this may be the loveliest man in the world, and that seeing his face made me happy, as it did the last time I'd seen him there.

And then I had this moment of sinking, alarmed realisation. He looks so like my husband in this photo.

I miss his face being dear to me.

I think this may be the order of the day

Leek and Sweet Potato Soup.

I put the heat on for a bit last night. First time. And with our new windows, all was toasty. All hail double glazing!

burger battle

Isn't this great? A mustard knight and a ketchup dragon.

 Found on K8. More here.

birthdays

Today was my mother's birthday. Or is it still? I don't know. It's still the day she was born on. But is that redundant now? I suppose so. Still. I'd rather think about this day than the day she died on. Oh yes. But does it seem morbid to think about it? Maybe. Maybe I'll just leave it there. She wasn't much one for birthdays either.

But! It is also a good friend's birthday today, and I can say Happy Birthday to her with a light heart. It's a bit crap, because I was always busy with my mother's birthday before she died, and then for some years, the two days were at odds with each other I suppose. But no more of that.

Hopefully we can have a night out next week to celebrate, and pray for more rugby players to enhance the evening again :)

thinkin' 'bout my baby

Playing some Nina Simone in the car... while carefully making sure I don't hit a deer...




Baby knows this one's not for him though ;)



But maybe this one is...

travelling under a strange star

Last night was as expected - out to collect the granny, pop back home to get the present I'd forgotten. Lots of young women in dresses and tights and legs and hair and fake tan and nails and shifting from foot to foot in obvious high heeled discomfort. Mostly looking great but strangely plastic and the same. My little cousin looked exactly like Christina Aguilera - but in a good way.

We stayed soooo long - my granny insisting that she was in hell, yet not moving herself to leave out of niceness. Then I ran over to get the car - and I was clamped for parking in a disabled spot. Forgot to bring my granny's disabled parking thingy. Eighty Euros later, and we were home at about 12.45. Jesus wept.

Then. THEN. Driving home along the darkened, misty dual carriageway, my eye caught the sight of a huge spray of blood and gore on the road in front of me, and, distracted by this and not quite managing to process it, I hit the deer carcass that was lying beside it. I can complain about the €80 but I am extremely grateful that the car just banged it and kept on going,  and that it wasn't me who killed it in the  first place. UGH. The horror of that. I was shocked enough as it was. I pulled over at the next stop and there was a guy in front of me looking at his car and looking shaken. 'You didn't just hit a large dead animal, did you?' I asked. Yep. Nasty.

Weird night.

Eighty Euro! Fuuuuuck. I have to go try and appeal it now, but something tells me I haven't a hope.

gift wrapped idiot

So tonight I have to bring my grandmother to my cousin's 30th party in town.

I just ran up to the Avoca Cafe to get a present - something small and pretty because even that is a bit of a push at the moment. A teacup and saucer, all pink and girly. I have no idea whether it's the right thing or not, my cousin is all peroxide blond and fake tan and nails and fake boobs and job in the cosmetic industry and girly things and nights out and holidays in Lazarote and all the things that I'm not.

I asked the woman in the very fancy pantsy shop to gift wrap the present for me - with a sinking heart, as I had memories of the last time. Sure enough, she takes the beautiful embossed tissue paper and wraps it round the cup in a lump, securing it with three giant pieces of tape - then she gets a small piece of pink and silver paper and folds one side unceremoniously over the other and whacks on two pieces of tape, then starts folding the end (without tucking it under!) onto the other side, the clean side, and throws two giant pieces of tape over it! Now I'm no gift wrapper, I tend to give people selloptapey lumps as well, but I still have some skillz on this woman. Who works in a high end, high mark up shop, exactly the kind people run into for last minute girly presents. At this point, I squeak, and say I might just take it like that. 'Oh, you want to show it to someone?' she asks. Er, yeah. Show them your astoundingly dismal wrapping skills, maybe. I#m so sending an email. Training??

I tried to get out of this, when I couldn't get a babysitter - but my father said something about his wife coming home from a business trip, and his new kitchen floor finally being done, and I got the impression he had some sort of romantic evening planned, and who am I to get in the way of that. Plus he was groaning about having to drive my granny and not being able to drink to dull the horror of the event. He grudgingly said he'd take her if I couldn't get a babysitter.

So in the end, I asked my friend who is bringing her daughter and her daughter's friend over - they were planning a slumber party - to watch a dvd and go home when Axel gets in at 10.30. Nice, eh? What I'm asking them to do. But when I told my granny I might not be able to bring her, she pulled the whole 'well, I'm very very disappointed, and your cousin will be very sad if I'm not there, and with her father not there at her party blah blah blah.' So... where does that leave me? Off I go -

I will collect her from her house (which is 20 mins in the other direction) drive her into town, find parking, manoever her into the hotel, then bring her home again. Bodhi has a fever today, I've just discovered, somewhat to my relief, that he's not just suffering the effects of his parents splitting up ansd not telling him, he's actually got somethign called Hand, Foot and Mouth disease, or Cocsackie virus (not to be confused with foot and mouth disease!). This accounts for the clingy misery.

But  I just rang my grandmother to check things out about tonight and it seems my father is going after all - getting a lift with me so he can have a drink.

Pause to let the horror sink in.

Now I know what I should do is ring him, tell him that my son is sick and I can't afford the petrol and parking and the time I will have to spend cleaning so the babysitter who's already being put out can come over.

I'm just appalled.

But he already knew this was difficult for me and I'm equally horrified by the bitch fest I'll have to get into and my granny being a snarky cow for the remainder of her life and the thought of having to deal with my father that cuts the legs from under me every time, no matter what.

So which is more hassle given that I'm sitting here now with tears pouring down my face feeling like a total fucking moron?

I hate this shit. This is why I didn't want to blog at the moment, but today is just a fucking doozie. Let's see how much worse it can get, will we?

hiatus

I think I might be off blog for a while. Just so you know. But if I find nice things I'll come and put them here.

gah, Im hungry today

I had a fresh croissant, with my father's apple and chili jelly for breakfast, when I went to visit my granny (my fault - went to the supermarket first and the waft of the bakery got me).

Then I came home and had cornflakes. And now toast and jam and I want more toast and jam.

Yesterday I went to a lovely birthday party and had chocolate cupcakes and crumble, and ice cream with hot homemade chocolate sauce. That perfect, smooth, catch in your throat kind. Sigh.


Period=

Carbohydrates
+
Chocolate
+
Water Retention.

Dammit!

Then last night, I was asked to write a flash intro for a food erotica collection. You'd be forgiven for surmising that it was about a fat girl on a sofa drinking a pint of hot chocolate sauce, but fear not, I managed to restrain myself, in literary terms, at least.

*was going to give you a chocolate sauce pic, but the new version of windows I've got is weird about pictures. Durn it.

don't skimp on proofing!

First few minutes of the show...

circumscision risk article

http://www.examiner.com/family-health-in-washington-dc/new-study-estimates-neonatal-circumcision-death-rate-higher-than-suffocation-and-auto-accidents

yoinked from Kristina Wright's Facebook.

Why do we cut bits off our babies?