It has been an unusual week. I went to Reading in the UK for work--I rarely travel for work--and it was an EMEA summit for women of my company. I was pleasantly surprised that I even managed to get approval to go. I was also dubious about how useful I would find the summit.
Like many people, I am not super comfortable about networking in a large roomful of strangers. I do better with people one on one. I took the plunge a few times over the day and a half, and accosted random people. Funnily enough, I kept meeting and felt more comfortable with people who were external to the company.
I also met a couple of smokers outside... a scenario I am well used to. One German woman is of my generation and had a good sense of humor. She also is on the board that runs the women's association. She however was not impressed when I said I had to leave early. "You will miss the main speaker!" "I know, I am raging but I miscalculated the timing on my flight and it took longer than I expected to get here from Stansted--I went with the cheaper airline."
I suppose this planning snafu doesn't reflect well on my abilities, but it was one of those doh moments for me. It happens.
Some of the speakers and discussions were interesting. A few of the internal and external women were of course overachievers, and I would not want to be like them. And am not. One of the big topics was mitigating the adverse effects of having children on your career--not something I care about either. The bigger problem for me is that career advancement means being a manager. I have managed people, but that is not the interesting part of a job for me. It would be nice to have a successful career path that did not require management. Two other women and I talked about this at one of the breaks; they too would be interested in an alternative.
Prior to the summit's kick-off I had a proper work meeting with an security analyst, which was fruitful. He also wants to set up a meeting between me and his management to discuss things. I guess I had better let my manager know...
If nothing else, I guess the summit has made me dust off my ambitions and examine my career.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
Friday, May 3, 2013
An early morning review of blog entries... and Mrs O
I was looking through past blog entries searching for stories about Mrs O'Reilly, who died a couple of months ago at age 90. I went to the wake at the nursing home with my neighbor Dermot. We had been sharing a good few stories with Noreen, Mrs O'Reilly's daughter, while we sat by Mrs O'Reilly's bed, where she was laid out. She looked so peaceful and so frail--she had gotten a lot smaller over the past couple of years. As we were driving back, I was thinking it was a shame that all the great stories and incidents involving Mrs O'Reilly in the neighborhood would be lost over time. And Noreen had enjoyed hearing the ones we did tell her. So I suggested to Dermott that I could get a small notebook or pad in Italy (where I was headed the next morning), and all the neighbors who wanted to could write about Mrs O'Reilly in it. Dermott thought it was a good idea.
While I was in Venice and wandering around, I went to a beautiful church and lit a candle for Mrs O'Reilly and my Uncle Hugh, who died last year. I am no longer Catholic, but I do appreciate the rites, especially for funerals. For me, lighting the candles was simply taking a moment to remember those who are gone.
So I visited a few paper stores in Venice. I had originally envisaged getting a decorative, hard-covered notebook. Everything I found though was too thick. Eventually I found a set of three slim notebooks in different colors, each with a sketch on the front cover and a relevant poem in English on the back. The one with a sketch of a person bent over and pecking at the bread crumbs among the pigeons who were doing likewise had Mrs O'Reilly's name all over it. The pigeons she fed every morning without fail for decades were the bane of the neighborhood, especially for those residents who parked the cars near her house. I think she bought loaves of bread just for the pigeons. Neighbors may have grumbled about the damn birds--and especially the bird shit--but nobody ever considered giving out to Mrs O'Reilly.
*******
I read a good few blog entries this morning. As a wordsmith, I was appalled at how many errors there are. I blame my mediocre typing skills--and obviously insufficient proofreading. I intend to go throw and fix everything... but not today.
While I was in Venice and wandering around, I went to a beautiful church and lit a candle for Mrs O'Reilly and my Uncle Hugh, who died last year. I am no longer Catholic, but I do appreciate the rites, especially for funerals. For me, lighting the candles was simply taking a moment to remember those who are gone.
So I visited a few paper stores in Venice. I had originally envisaged getting a decorative, hard-covered notebook. Everything I found though was too thick. Eventually I found a set of three slim notebooks in different colors, each with a sketch on the front cover and a relevant poem in English on the back. The one with a sketch of a person bent over and pecking at the bread crumbs among the pigeons who were doing likewise had Mrs O'Reilly's name all over it. The pigeons she fed every morning without fail for decades were the bane of the neighborhood, especially for those residents who parked the cars near her house. I think she bought loaves of bread just for the pigeons. Neighbors may have grumbled about the damn birds--and especially the bird shit--but nobody ever considered giving out to Mrs O'Reilly.
*******
I read a good few blog entries this morning. As a wordsmith, I was appalled at how many errors there are. I blame my mediocre typing skills--and obviously insufficient proofreading. I intend to go throw and fix everything... but not today.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Indigo
So I got a cat about a year and half ago. Some friends worry that I am turning into a cat lady, a not entirely unreasonable concern given that I took up crocheting again a few years ago and I also have a vintage fur coat. Not to fear, however. I am not really much of a cat person; I am simply an Indigo person. He makes me laugh, even when I am not doing well and want to hide from the world. He is also a pain in the ass, as I tell him regularly.
I am far more tolerant of Indigo's shortcomings than I would be of a person living with me. Maybe by being more tolerant with him I am learning how to build tolerance toward myself and others. It is possible.
When I come home in the evening and he hears the keys in the door, he crouches on the other side. If I am really late, he sometimes mewls a bit. Once I open the door, he launches himself outside, skids to a halt, and starts sniffing everything--the dying potted plants in front of my house, the pavement, the wheels of the neighbor's car. Of course if it is pouring rain, he immediately shoots back into the house.
Neither the cold nor light mists put him off.
Indigo is not a hardy adventurer. I leave the front door open and usually sit in the doorway while he is exploring the street. When he first started going outside about eight months ago, the littlest noise or appearance of a person scared him silly. Back inside he would go and cower in fear. Now he is more casual about his returns and is willing to venture out again once the coast is clear.
After a while I try to get him to come back in. Sometimes shaking a plastic container of his treats works. Sometimes he ignores me. If it is really cold and I get impatient, I chase him back into the house. He gets a treat then once inside.
My cousin convinced me to get a lead for the cat. It is really more of a toy we use occasionally inside the house for giggling purposes. Indigo would be mortified if I tried to make him wear it outside.
I am far more tolerant of Indigo's shortcomings than I would be of a person living with me. Maybe by being more tolerant with him I am learning how to build tolerance toward myself and others. It is possible.
When I come home in the evening and he hears the keys in the door, he crouches on the other side. If I am really late, he sometimes mewls a bit. Once I open the door, he launches himself outside, skids to a halt, and starts sniffing everything--the dying potted plants in front of my house, the pavement, the wheels of the neighbor's car. Of course if it is pouring rain, he immediately shoots back into the house.
Neither the cold nor light mists put him off.
Indigo is not a hardy adventurer. I leave the front door open and usually sit in the doorway while he is exploring the street. When he first started going outside about eight months ago, the littlest noise or appearance of a person scared him silly. Back inside he would go and cower in fear. Now he is more casual about his returns and is willing to venture out again once the coast is clear.
After a while I try to get him to come back in. Sometimes shaking a plastic container of his treats works. Sometimes he ignores me. If it is really cold and I get impatient, I chase him back into the house. He gets a treat then once inside.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
A day in San Francisco
I arrived late last night and was awake at 4:30 am from jet lag. I had previously arranged to go into San Francisco in the morning with Belle, who had to go into the office.
We got the BART into the city and Belle took me up to her office to meet her colleagues. The pink motorcycle helmet by her desk was not hers; it had belonged to a client who had been in an accident. Good ice breaker topic for her new clients though.
I headed off and wandered around the city. I found a lovely nail salon on Howard Street. I got a manicure and then rested in the comfy chair listening to the classic lite music. A wave of tiredness hit me, but I managed not to fall asleep. A nice chat with the woman next to me ensued. She was getting both a manicure and a pedicure (at the same time) and was friendly without being over the top. She had overheard me telling my manicurist that I was living in Ireland and was not local (no repeat business here). Anyway, the woman had been to Ireland a few years ago with her husband. She loved it ("what's not to love?" according to her), and was amazed at how much there was to do in Dublin. On Dublin's behalf, I was inwardly a bit defensive; it is a capital city after all. Mini-sized but still.
I told the woman how much I love San Francisco (lots) and simply said that I live in Dublin. She assumed that I was Irish, which is logical I suppose. It tickles me though how none of the Americans here pick up that I am also American (unlike the Irish at home).
After the nails and chat, I strolled down to the piers. Looking out at the Bay Bridge I realized that I had been quietly humming "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay" all morning. Spot the tourist. I made sure I was not within 25 feet of a building (ish) and lit a cigarette. The anti-smoking laws have become even more draconian since my last visit. Belle had pointed out a place near her building were people smoked, so we had agreed to meet there for lunch. Smokers are people, too, I told her. (I am thinking about getting t-shirts with that on them made up to sell here.)
My next wandering brought me to a farmer's market. However, there was no produce; it was more of an arts and crafts market. There was some dodgy art, some nice jewelry, and some tat. I found a shoe stall and initially thought the shoes were vintage. It turns out they were handmade. I had a great chat with the woman running the stall (the shoemaker) and loved going through all the different styles of shoes. The woman has been making shoes for 46 years and has 7 children. On a whim, I ordered a pair of shoes. It is definitely my big purchase for this trip, and one I had not entirely budgeted for. Oh well, it is only money. The experience of getting both feet measured seven ways was worth it, and I am curious to see how the shoes turn out. They will be ready in two weeks and collecting them will give me an excuse to visit Palo Alto.
I only allowed myself to window shop for the rest-- er, except for the carton of cigs.
Belle managed to get off work a bit early so we went for a quick, happy hour drink before catching the BART back to suburbia.
We got the BART into the city and Belle took me up to her office to meet her colleagues. The pink motorcycle helmet by her desk was not hers; it had belonged to a client who had been in an accident. Good ice breaker topic for her new clients though.
I headed off and wandered around the city. I found a lovely nail salon on Howard Street. I got a manicure and then rested in the comfy chair listening to the classic lite music. A wave of tiredness hit me, but I managed not to fall asleep. A nice chat with the woman next to me ensued. She was getting both a manicure and a pedicure (at the same time) and was friendly without being over the top. She had overheard me telling my manicurist that I was living in Ireland and was not local (no repeat business here). Anyway, the woman had been to Ireland a few years ago with her husband. She loved it ("what's not to love?" according to her), and was amazed at how much there was to do in Dublin. On Dublin's behalf, I was inwardly a bit defensive; it is a capital city after all. Mini-sized but still.
I told the woman how much I love San Francisco (lots) and simply said that I live in Dublin. She assumed that I was Irish, which is logical I suppose. It tickles me though how none of the Americans here pick up that I am also American (unlike the Irish at home).
After the nails and chat, I strolled down to the piers. Looking out at the Bay Bridge I realized that I had been quietly humming "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay" all morning. Spot the tourist. I made sure I was not within 25 feet of a building (ish) and lit a cigarette. The anti-smoking laws have become even more draconian since my last visit. Belle had pointed out a place near her building were people smoked, so we had agreed to meet there for lunch. Smokers are people, too, I told her. (I am thinking about getting t-shirts with that on them made up to sell here.)
My next wandering brought me to a farmer's market. However, there was no produce; it was more of an arts and crafts market. There was some dodgy art, some nice jewelry, and some tat. I found a shoe stall and initially thought the shoes were vintage. It turns out they were handmade. I had a great chat with the woman running the stall (the shoemaker) and loved going through all the different styles of shoes. The woman has been making shoes for 46 years and has 7 children. On a whim, I ordered a pair of shoes. It is definitely my big purchase for this trip, and one I had not entirely budgeted for. Oh well, it is only money. The experience of getting both feet measured seven ways was worth it, and I am curious to see how the shoes turn out. They will be ready in two weeks and collecting them will give me an excuse to visit Palo Alto.
I only allowed myself to window shop for the rest-- er, except for the carton of cigs.
Belle managed to get off work a bit early so we went for a quick, happy hour drink before catching the BART back to suburbia.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Rules for the neighborhood kids
I have always been friendly with the kids in my neighborhood, but ever since I got the kitten, Indigo, I am super popular.
I was home early one evening last week, lying in bed reading. There was a knock at the door; I answered and looked out at my own height. Not seeing anyone then I looked down. Niambh was standing there. "Do you have a kitten?" she asked.
"Yes, I have had her for two weeks."
"I thought so. I saw her yesterday sitting in the window. I called over last night but you weren't home, " she said looking at me accusingly.
"Yeah, I was out last night."
"Can I come in and see her?" Niambh asked.
"You can but she is hiding. She gets scared pretty easily and isn't used to people."
Niambh entered the front room and started looking around. "Where is she?"
"Dunno. Try looking behind the sofa or in the kitchen." Niambh started exploring and I went to sit in the open doorway with my cigs and water.
I can't find her," she said coming back out to me.
"Well, give it time. Once she gets used to you, she might come out. She gets livelier in later in the evenings."
"Can we do art?" Niambh asked.
"Sure, let me get the stuff." I pulled out paper for her and went into the spare room to collect the art supplies. "Are you going to make pictures for the street party?" I asked.
Niambh nodded. She set herself up at the table in the front room. "Do you not have any paints?" she asked after searching the plastic bag of supplies.
"Look again, I thought I had paints in that bag."
"I can't find any."
"Hmm, I don't know where they are then." She settled for the pastel crayons.
It was a warm evening so I sat in the doorway and watched the neighborhood. After a while, Niambh brought her artwork and supplies over. I decided to do a drawing, too. We both were drawing kittens. I used the museum garden where I found Indigo as the scene. Niambh and I compared our work periodically. "At least yours looks like a cat," I said to her at one point. "Mine looks more like a fox." She giggled and nodded.
More neighborhood kids arrived. It was Sean, Niambh's brother, Carlos, and Mick. "I came to see the kitten," said Niambh to them.
"Can we go see the kitten too?" they all chorused. "Please, please, please."
"Alright but don't make too much noise, you'll scare her." I shook my head; three boys between the ages of 6 and 10. Quiet was not really an option.
"OK," said Sean. "Yeah!" said Carlos and Mick as they climbed over Niambh and her painting. The three boys charged around my little house. They moved all the things that Indigo could be hiding under.
"I saw her!" yelled Mick. The other two boys pushed him out of the way to get their turn.
After a bit, the boys got bored and started roughhousing in the front room. Niambh looked over at them. "Boys are a lot of trouble," she said. I agreed, thinking that most don't get any better when they are older either.
Eventually the noise the boys were making reached a level I could not stand. "Enough!" I roared, surprising myself at how loud I could yell (not to mention surprising them). They looked at me in shock but then started to wrestle again. "You're barred. Out!" Again, hesitation. "Now!" They hustled out.
"How long are we barred for?" asked Sean as he left. "How come she gets to stay?" asked Carlos.
I sighed. "Oh, you can visit another night later in the week." Then to Carlos, "she wasn't annoying me."
I decided to make up rules for the boys' next visit. The overlying guideline was that they were to behave or I wouldn't let them in. As that was too general, the explicit rules were #1, no burping; #2, no farting (the contests for #1 and #2 were unbearable); #3, roughhousing is okay, but no wrecking the joint; and finally #4, listen to me, and if I say stop or no, do what I say.
The rules were semi-successful on their next visit. They stayed longer and mostly behaved. On their third visit, they tested the rules and got barred again. It ended in tears.
Editor's note: Indigo turned out to be male. I hadn't checked.
I was home early one evening last week, lying in bed reading. There was a knock at the door; I answered and looked out at my own height. Not seeing anyone then I looked down. Niambh was standing there. "Do you have a kitten?" she asked.
"Yes, I have had her for two weeks."
"I thought so. I saw her yesterday sitting in the window. I called over last night but you weren't home, " she said looking at me accusingly.
"Yeah, I was out last night."
"Can I come in and see her?" Niambh asked.
"You can but she is hiding. She gets scared pretty easily and isn't used to people."
Niambh entered the front room and started looking around. "Where is she?"
"Dunno. Try looking behind the sofa or in the kitchen." Niambh started exploring and I went to sit in the open doorway with my cigs and water.
I can't find her," she said coming back out to me.
"Well, give it time. Once she gets used to you, she might come out. She gets livelier in later in the evenings."
"Can we do art?" Niambh asked.
"Sure, let me get the stuff." I pulled out paper for her and went into the spare room to collect the art supplies. "Are you going to make pictures for the street party?" I asked.
Niambh nodded. She set herself up at the table in the front room. "Do you not have any paints?" she asked after searching the plastic bag of supplies.
"Look again, I thought I had paints in that bag."
"I can't find any."
"Hmm, I don't know where they are then." She settled for the pastel crayons.
It was a warm evening so I sat in the doorway and watched the neighborhood. After a while, Niambh brought her artwork and supplies over. I decided to do a drawing, too. We both were drawing kittens. I used the museum garden where I found Indigo as the scene. Niambh and I compared our work periodically. "At least yours looks like a cat," I said to her at one point. "Mine looks more like a fox." She giggled and nodded.
More neighborhood kids arrived. It was Sean, Niambh's brother, Carlos, and Mick. "I came to see the kitten," said Niambh to them.
"Can we go see the kitten too?" they all chorused. "Please, please, please."
"Alright but don't make too much noise, you'll scare her." I shook my head; three boys between the ages of 6 and 10. Quiet was not really an option.
"OK," said Sean. "Yeah!" said Carlos and Mick as they climbed over Niambh and her painting. The three boys charged around my little house. They moved all the things that Indigo could be hiding under.
"I saw her!" yelled Mick. The other two boys pushed him out of the way to get their turn.
After a bit, the boys got bored and started roughhousing in the front room. Niambh looked over at them. "Boys are a lot of trouble," she said. I agreed, thinking that most don't get any better when they are older either.
Eventually the noise the boys were making reached a level I could not stand. "Enough!" I roared, surprising myself at how loud I could yell (not to mention surprising them). They looked at me in shock but then started to wrestle again. "You're barred. Out!" Again, hesitation. "Now!" They hustled out.
"How long are we barred for?" asked Sean as he left. "How come she gets to stay?" asked Carlos.
I sighed. "Oh, you can visit another night later in the week." Then to Carlos, "she wasn't annoying me."
I decided to make up rules for the boys' next visit. The overlying guideline was that they were to behave or I wouldn't let them in. As that was too general, the explicit rules were #1, no burping; #2, no farting (the contests for #1 and #2 were unbearable); #3, roughhousing is okay, but no wrecking the joint; and finally #4, listen to me, and if I say stop or no, do what I say.
The rules were semi-successful on their next visit. They stayed longer and mostly behaved. On their third visit, they tested the rules and got barred again. It ended in tears.
Editor's note: Indigo turned out to be male. I hadn't checked.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Wine tasting, take 2
A week ago Saturday was the second, annual wine-tasting fundraiser for Haiti.
As I walked over to Glenda's house, I passed my neighbor Fred, who attempted to wolf whistle at me via his open window. "Nice guna." I laughed and thanked him. He said he would follow me over in a while.
"Do I need to bring anything?" he asked as I started to head off. I looked back at him.
"Money," I replied.
"That's what I like about you, you are so direct," he said. I shrugged thinking, it is a fundraiser.
The invitees, being Irish, were slow to arrive. It was a nice, small crowd, and everyone seemed comfortable with each other and mingled happily. Glenda the good witch bustled about, giving out orders indiscriminately.
As I had done the previous year, we had five wines to taste. This year, however, Glenda had decided that we were to start with a rose. Well, early arrivals started with a glass or two of Shiraz or a beer. The wine tasting officially started quite late with the rose. I introduced "my able assistant" Howard. He was in charge of the opening of wine bottles and the pouring of the wine. Given that the sofas and chairs were quite low, Howard said that he felt like he was towering over everybody. Even in my high-heeled sandals I was not towering over anybody. I was however giving it loads as I am wont to do in such circumstances.
Very little was said about the wines. I provided basic information about where we got the wine, the reasonable cost, and what the wines were called. Occasionally, I mentioned what the percentage of alcohol was. The emphasis was on the drinking--and people's selective likes and dislikes.
One gentleman was not a wine drinker and seemed a bit bemused about the wine cheat sheet. I explained that it was just an aid. "For example, is that a wine you would give to your mother-in-law?" I asked.
He replied, "She is dead, so no." OK, I thought, he is taking this very literally. Try again.
"Perhaps it is more of a date wine?"
He shook his head no. "I am married so I don't go on dates."
"What about swilling wine?"
Nope. "I don't like wine; I wouldn't drink a lot of it."
I gave up. "Can I get you a beer?"
All in all, it was a civilized evening and no one fell into the fireplace (unlike last year. I blame the whisky.) A few of us who have been trapped by Glenda's generous hospitality in the past snuck out one after the other whenever she was in the kitchen and was distracted by others.
The Haiti fundraising season has begun well.
As I walked over to Glenda's house, I passed my neighbor Fred, who attempted to wolf whistle at me via his open window. "Nice guna." I laughed and thanked him. He said he would follow me over in a while.
"Do I need to bring anything?" he asked as I started to head off. I looked back at him.
"Money," I replied.
"That's what I like about you, you are so direct," he said. I shrugged thinking, it is a fundraiser.
The invitees, being Irish, were slow to arrive. It was a nice, small crowd, and everyone seemed comfortable with each other and mingled happily. Glenda the good witch bustled about, giving out orders indiscriminately.
As I had done the previous year, we had five wines to taste. This year, however, Glenda had decided that we were to start with a rose. Well, early arrivals started with a glass or two of Shiraz or a beer. The wine tasting officially started quite late with the rose. I introduced "my able assistant" Howard. He was in charge of the opening of wine bottles and the pouring of the wine. Given that the sofas and chairs were quite low, Howard said that he felt like he was towering over everybody. Even in my high-heeled sandals I was not towering over anybody. I was however giving it loads as I am wont to do in such circumstances.
Very little was said about the wines. I provided basic information about where we got the wine, the reasonable cost, and what the wines were called. Occasionally, I mentioned what the percentage of alcohol was. The emphasis was on the drinking--and people's selective likes and dislikes.
One gentleman was not a wine drinker and seemed a bit bemused about the wine cheat sheet. I explained that it was just an aid. "For example, is that a wine you would give to your mother-in-law?" I asked.
He replied, "She is dead, so no." OK, I thought, he is taking this very literally. Try again.
"Perhaps it is more of a date wine?"
He shook his head no. "I am married so I don't go on dates."
"What about swilling wine?"
Nope. "I don't like wine; I wouldn't drink a lot of it."
I gave up. "Can I get you a beer?"
All in all, it was a civilized evening and no one fell into the fireplace (unlike last year. I blame the whisky.) A few of us who have been trapped by Glenda's generous hospitality in the past snuck out one after the other whenever she was in the kitchen and was distracted by others.
The Haiti fundraising season has begun well.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Self-control and silly times
I am reading a New Yorker article about self-control, and had a silly adventure the other day. So I thought I would write a little about the two. According to the article thinking about thinking is what allows people to outsmart their shortcomings. In other words, a good way to practice self-control about a given temptation is to distract yourself by thinking about something else.
The other day I went into work at 7 am (highly unusual for me) and had taken work home with me when I met up with a friend for lunch. I had already decided that I was not going back to the office after lunch, but I had several choices: go home and take a nap since I had not been sleeping well the past week, go home and finish off the two outstanding hours of work, or hang out with my friend all afternoon. I am sure there were other choices but those were the three I thought about. As it was a warm, summery day (by Dublin standards), you can guess which option I was favoring.
If you know me at all (and anyone reading this does), you already know which option I chose. Yes, I hung out with my friend. And I had fun. There was a slight difference this time from my past behavior in similar circumstances--I was less impulsive about picking the option to go with. I did think about it rationally, and weighed the pros and cons. It is not that big of a deal deciding whether to work or have fun (especially knowing that there are no ramifications on my job as I will do the work this weekend). However, there were emotional ramifications to consider and this is an area that tends to be a landmine for me.
I have made a conscious decision in the past year to avoid inappropriate relationships or non-relationships. If my budding relationship with this guy stays at friendship, there is no problem. If it becomes an emotional or romantic relationship, then it would fall into the inappropriate category. Both of us are aware of this and both would prefer the former--or so we say. Whether it is true for him or not, I really don't know.
Anyway, we had fun and have decided to just be friends. As the article explains, it is not just about the marshmallows. Read more http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2009/05/18/090518fa_fact_lehrer#ixzz1SFPQBt3U
The other day I went into work at 7 am (highly unusual for me) and had taken work home with me when I met up with a friend for lunch. I had already decided that I was not going back to the office after lunch, but I had several choices: go home and take a nap since I had not been sleeping well the past week, go home and finish off the two outstanding hours of work, or hang out with my friend all afternoon. I am sure there were other choices but those were the three I thought about. As it was a warm, summery day (by Dublin standards), you can guess which option I was favoring.
If you know me at all (and anyone reading this does), you already know which option I chose. Yes, I hung out with my friend. And I had fun. There was a slight difference this time from my past behavior in similar circumstances--I was less impulsive about picking the option to go with. I did think about it rationally, and weighed the pros and cons. It is not that big of a deal deciding whether to work or have fun (especially knowing that there are no ramifications on my job as I will do the work this weekend). However, there were emotional ramifications to consider and this is an area that tends to be a landmine for me.
I have made a conscious decision in the past year to avoid inappropriate relationships or non-relationships. If my budding relationship with this guy stays at friendship, there is no problem. If it becomes an emotional or romantic relationship, then it would fall into the inappropriate category. Both of us are aware of this and both would prefer the former--or so we say. Whether it is true for him or not, I really don't know.
Anyway, we had fun and have decided to just be friends. As the article explains, it is not just about the marshmallows. Read more http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2009/05/18/090518fa_fact_lehrer#ixzz1SFPQBt3U
Thursday, June 9, 2011
In honor of the Queen’s visit
[Note: This dates from the end of May. Technical difficulties in getting it posted.]
Living next to Phoenix Park, I could hardly miss all the hustle and bustle of the historic visit. Queen Elizabeth II is the first member of English royalty to visit Ireland since it became a republic. It has been the topic for the week, with people voicing opinions for and against—and whether she should apologize for the English’s treatment of the Irish (no, according to the English politicians). She has bowed her head in the Garden of remembrance and expressed sorrow at the loss of life somewhere else. I can’t remember. There were also a few bomb scares, but luckily none went off. She is off to see the horses in Kildare today.
My biggest memory of this week will be all the guards (police) in their bright yellow high-visibility jackets. Steel barriers were everywhere, the guards were too. I saw stacks of them being transported in the double-decker Irish buses. Tuesday on my way to work, I saw O’Connell Street in a sea of yellow as the luas passed by. Apparently, there have been 10,000 guards on the streets. There are none left to make tea in the stations.
Yesterday the luas was not running so I had to walk to and from work. The quays were empty of cars. The odd helicopter overhead and occasional guardai motorcycle or car with flashing lights were the only vehicles to be seen. I was carrying my backpack with my lunch and change of clothes in it. I was stopped twice for inspection of my bag on the way to work. On the way home I made the mistake of buying vegetables. Not only were they heavy but my bag was checked more often. When I arrived at the beginning of Parkgate Street. The nice female guard would not let me pass. I was told to wait until the motorcade passed by. I tried to explain that I lived close by and just wanted to go home down the street; I did not want to cross the quays like the many waiting at the barriers to get across to Heuston station. She explained that unlike others being allowed to continue down the street, I could not because of the vegetables. When I asked why she said that they did not want anyone throwing vegetables at the Queen. My turnip was too heavy to throw, even if I had been so inclined. Others with vegetables were not impressed either.
Eventually two motorcades passed by separately. After all that I could not even see the Queen. I had my glasses on but still could not distinguish the people in the cars. What a historic waste of time…
The two hours of walking and the half hour of waiting at the barriers were for the Queen. The yoga at lunchtime, the creamed spinach I made last night and my breakfast of pancakes with fresh raspberries were just for me.
Living next to Phoenix Park, I could hardly miss all the hustle and bustle of the historic visit. Queen Elizabeth II is the first member of English royalty to visit Ireland since it became a republic. It has been the topic for the week, with people voicing opinions for and against—and whether she should apologize for the English’s treatment of the Irish (no, according to the English politicians). She has bowed her head in the Garden of remembrance and expressed sorrow at the loss of life somewhere else. I can’t remember. There were also a few bomb scares, but luckily none went off. She is off to see the horses in Kildare today.
My biggest memory of this week will be all the guards (police) in their bright yellow high-visibility jackets. Steel barriers were everywhere, the guards were too. I saw stacks of them being transported in the double-decker Irish buses. Tuesday on my way to work, I saw O’Connell Street in a sea of yellow as the luas passed by. Apparently, there have been 10,000 guards on the streets. There are none left to make tea in the stations.
Yesterday the luas was not running so I had to walk to and from work. The quays were empty of cars. The odd helicopter overhead and occasional guardai motorcycle or car with flashing lights were the only vehicles to be seen. I was carrying my backpack with my lunch and change of clothes in it. I was stopped twice for inspection of my bag on the way to work. On the way home I made the mistake of buying vegetables. Not only were they heavy but my bag was checked more often. When I arrived at the beginning of Parkgate Street. The nice female guard would not let me pass. I was told to wait until the motorcade passed by. I tried to explain that I lived close by and just wanted to go home down the street; I did not want to cross the quays like the many waiting at the barriers to get across to Heuston station. She explained that unlike others being allowed to continue down the street, I could not because of the vegetables. When I asked why she said that they did not want anyone throwing vegetables at the Queen. My turnip was too heavy to throw, even if I had been so inclined. Others with vegetables were not impressed either.
Eventually two motorcades passed by separately. After all that I could not even see the Queen. I had my glasses on but still could not distinguish the people in the cars. What a historic waste of time…
The two hours of walking and the half hour of waiting at the barriers were for the Queen. The yoga at lunchtime, the creamed spinach I made last night and my breakfast of pancakes with fresh raspberries were just for me.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Happiness
Life is good. I have been properly healthy for four months. I eat regularly, and sleep well every night—for the first time in 45 years. Or maybe 35 years… possibly I slept well as a child and don’t remember. I am spending time with good friends, I have realized that good people actually care about me, I am working hard albeit part-time and even enjoying it, and I have taken up creative hobbies. I don’t know myself.
I am socializing a fair bit, but not too much. Often, I just have people over for either dinner, brunch, or a wine and cheese evening. I still read novels but not to the exclusion of doing anything else. I hardly watch TV anymore.
I bought a bike about six weeks ago. So far I have only ridden it home from the shop and once in the park last week. Still, I had a good excuse: I tore ligaments in my ankle the same week that I bought it. It is currently hanging on its rack in my smoking patio. I am contemplating taking it for a spin again today. Ambitious I know. It is a lovely autumnal day and there won’t be many more of those so I suppose I should take advantage of it.
Winter will be the real challenge.
I am socializing a fair bit, but not too much. Often, I just have people over for either dinner, brunch, or a wine and cheese evening. I still read novels but not to the exclusion of doing anything else. I hardly watch TV anymore.
I bought a bike about six weeks ago. So far I have only ridden it home from the shop and once in the park last week. Still, I had a good excuse: I tore ligaments in my ankle the same week that I bought it. It is currently hanging on its rack in my smoking patio. I am contemplating taking it for a spin again today. Ambitious I know. It is a lovely autumnal day and there won’t be many more of those so I suppose I should take advantage of it.
Winter will be the real challenge.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Wine taster par excellence
Somehow I got roped into helping at a wine tasting fundraiser. It is for a good cause -- building houses in Haiti. However, I went from being a willing participant and advice giver to the person ordering the wine and directing the tasting on the evening. I have never led a tasting before.
Holly recommended that I use a wine wheel, a chart of sorts easily available on the web. I found a few all right, but they were far too detailed, technical, or formal for my liking. So Emile helped me design a wine tasting cheat sheet for pseudo-wine tastings. If nothing else, it might break the ice; we are expecting about 20-25 people. There will be a lot more drinking than talking definitely. "This wine is fairly drinkable, get it down your necks" will be the gist of my directions. The way a wine tasting among friends should be. Really, the do is more an excuse for a piss-up than anything -- with no guilty conscience since it is for charity. I would still like to avoid a hangover the next day though. I am too old for hangovers.
Holly recommended that I use a wine wheel, a chart of sorts easily available on the web. I found a few all right, but they were far too detailed, technical, or formal for my liking. So Emile helped me design a wine tasting cheat sheet for pseudo-wine tastings. If nothing else, it might break the ice; we are expecting about 20-25 people. There will be a lot more drinking than talking definitely. "This wine is fairly drinkable, get it down your necks" will be the gist of my directions. The way a wine tasting among friends should be. Really, the do is more an excuse for a piss-up than anything -- with no guilty conscience since it is for charity. I would still like to avoid a hangover the next day though. I am too old for hangovers.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Swallows and nature
In Wexford last weekend I started to develop an appreciation for nature. I can now identify baby swallows. Watching them over a few days I noticed the improvement they made in their flying ability. The first day they seemed quite shaky and had to flap their wings constantly to stay aloft. The last morning as I smoked my first cigarette of the day, I watched them swoop and soar almost effortlessly.
For a city and suburban girl such as myself, this is proper country -- despite the fact that Samantha lives in a lovely, spacious bungalow in a small estate outside a village. The back of her house overlooks an empty field, and her garden is enclosed by tall trees whose leaves rustle in the steady breezes. When I sit on her front step, I can also all the trees and shrubs across the road; few houses are in my line of vision.
I also like the small-town feel of Wexford town. As I walked around town one afternoon I noticed the relaxed atmosphere and friendliness of the people. Except for the frustrated teenagers of course. Samantha greeted a lot of people in the shops and on the street. I bought a great pair of boots, essential for the upcoming winter -- which is starting to set in unfortunately. Indian summer my arse.
For a city and suburban girl such as myself, this is proper country -- despite the fact that Samantha lives in a lovely, spacious bungalow in a small estate outside a village. The back of her house overlooks an empty field, and her garden is enclosed by tall trees whose leaves rustle in the steady breezes. When I sit on her front step, I can also all the trees and shrubs across the road; few houses are in my line of vision.
I also like the small-town feel of Wexford town. As I walked around town one afternoon I noticed the relaxed atmosphere and friendliness of the people. Except for the frustrated teenagers of course. Samantha greeted a lot of people in the shops and on the street. I bought a great pair of boots, essential for the upcoming winter -- which is starting to set in unfortunately. Indian summer my arse.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
New and old friends
Friday evening was a night of meeting up with new and old friends. I hobbled over to Smithfield on my crutch with Samantha, where we met up with Annabel and Emile. The four of us had coffees and were chatting away. Emile described a surreal conversation he had had earlier in the week with his niece and nephew. Emile told them that he had applied to be a volunteer at the Phoenix Zoo. His practical, accountant-like nephew was unimpressed, while his open-minded niece was delighted. He went on to explain that he wants to volunteer so that he can steal a penguin and a giraffe. The accountant-like nephew was disbelieving. 'Where would you put them?' he asked. Emile said, 'Well I'd bring them back to live here' (in his terrace home).
After a moment's silence, the nephew asked 'how would you get the giraffe through the house?' 'Obviously, I would train it to crawl on its belly.' Enthusiastic nods from the niece, 'that would work.'
I reminded Emile that I lived near the zoo so he could stop off with the giraffe and penguin on his escape with them. His eyes lit up, 'a safe house'!
The kids in my neighborhood would love that.
The giraffe conversation reminded Annabel about the Dublin guy who actually stole a penguin from the zoo a few months ago. We had all heard at least part of the story. After stealing the penguin, they guy made his getaway in a taxi. Apparently, the penguin was kicking up a fuss and the guy reconsidered his plan. Stopped at lights somewhere in town, he opened the door and tossed the penguin out. Only in Dublin.
****
Later that evening I went to Cherie's going away party. She and her boyfriend are going to live in Vietnam but are traveling to several countries beforehand. Cherie speaks Vietnamese, French, and English fluently; she is planning to get a proper job when she gets there. Her boyfriend knows how to swear and order food in Vietnamese so he is sorted.
Cherie was a bit nervous about living in Vietnam, a bit sad at leaving her friends in Dublin, and a bit excited about everything. We hadn't talked properly in a long while so she filled me in. I already knew about her background, problems with her parents, and other things; the hassles with her "in-laws" was new. However, Friday night was the first time it hit me just how isolated she must feel sometimes. We had joked in the past that she was like my sister; I have plenty and can always do with more. She said on Friday that she has no family. I reminded her that she is my little sister and that if she needs to talk to someone while she is away to email me and I would call her back wherever she is.
I gave Cherie a bracelet that I had made. Later that evening she was joking with a few of us that she would sell it on her travels for say $2. Melanie scolded her, 'You can't do that; it has sentimental value.' Cherie thought for a minute, 'OK, $2.50.'
I am going to miss her.
After a moment's silence, the nephew asked 'how would you get the giraffe through the house?' 'Obviously, I would train it to crawl on its belly.' Enthusiastic nods from the niece, 'that would work.'
I reminded Emile that I lived near the zoo so he could stop off with the giraffe and penguin on his escape with them. His eyes lit up, 'a safe house'!
The kids in my neighborhood would love that.
The giraffe conversation reminded Annabel about the Dublin guy who actually stole a penguin from the zoo a few months ago. We had all heard at least part of the story. After stealing the penguin, they guy made his getaway in a taxi. Apparently, the penguin was kicking up a fuss and the guy reconsidered his plan. Stopped at lights somewhere in town, he opened the door and tossed the penguin out. Only in Dublin.
****
Later that evening I went to Cherie's going away party. She and her boyfriend are going to live in Vietnam but are traveling to several countries beforehand. Cherie speaks Vietnamese, French, and English fluently; she is planning to get a proper job when she gets there. Her boyfriend knows how to swear and order food in Vietnamese so he is sorted.
Cherie was a bit nervous about living in Vietnam, a bit sad at leaving her friends in Dublin, and a bit excited about everything. We hadn't talked properly in a long while so she filled me in. I already knew about her background, problems with her parents, and other things; the hassles with her "in-laws" was new. However, Friday night was the first time it hit me just how isolated she must feel sometimes. We had joked in the past that she was like my sister; I have plenty and can always do with more. She said on Friday that she has no family. I reminded her that she is my little sister and that if she needs to talk to someone while she is away to email me and I would call her back wherever she is.
I gave Cherie a bracelet that I had made. Later that evening she was joking with a few of us that she would sell it on her travels for say $2. Melanie scolded her, 'You can't do that; it has sentimental value.' Cherie thought for a minute, 'OK, $2.50.'
I am going to miss her.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Going out in Dublin
Two occurrences this week have reminded me why I like living (and going out) in Dublin. Saturday night Samantha and I went to an Italian restaurant we like. We were sitting at a table outside, pretending to be somewhere warm and Mediterranean. After dinner I rested my sore foot on a spare chair. The new waiter raised his eyebrows at that and I apologized in Italian (as one does) but didn't move my foot. Shortly after that, the charming manager swept by to serve people behind us. He made no comment on my informal leg rest but returned with a red cushion and placed it under my foot.
Yesterday afternoon after a walk in the park on my day off, I called into my local pub. The friendly barman asked what he could do for me and I told him I was out of cash. "We are just the friendly neighborhood bank it appears." I replied that I was going to purchase something as well and he said that was entirely up to me.
I ordered a 7up, got my cash, and sat at the bar reading the book Reading Lolita in Tehran (good book by the way). After a while, I left my book and soda on the bar to go to the restroom. When I returned I picked up my book. I gazed at the back cover, thinking that something looked different. I turned over the book to discover a cheesy book about quotes. Still being perplexed, I heard the barman and the barwoman giggling away. He had switched my book obviously. I got my book back and all order was restored.
Yesterday afternoon after a walk in the park on my day off, I called into my local pub. The friendly barman asked what he could do for me and I told him I was out of cash. "We are just the friendly neighborhood bank it appears." I replied that I was going to purchase something as well and he said that was entirely up to me.
I ordered a 7up, got my cash, and sat at the bar reading the book Reading Lolita in Tehran (good book by the way). After a while, I left my book and soda on the bar to go to the restroom. When I returned I picked up my book. I gazed at the back cover, thinking that something looked different. I turned over the book to discover a cheesy book about quotes. Still being perplexed, I heard the barman and the barwoman giggling away. He had switched my book obviously. I got my book back and all order was restored.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Wonder kids
Six-year old Fintan rang my doorbell the other evening to ask if he could play on my friend's abandoned car, which has been in front of my house for a couple of years. The kids in the neighborhood know that this car is the only one they are allowed to play on, and Fintan's mum wants him to ask my permission each time.
So I answered the door and Fintan took one look at me and said "why is your hair red?" (It isn't.) I replied that I had got my hair cut that day. "Oh... it looks almost like mine" (it doesn't). I smiled and said "almost, we could be twins." A smile of wonder spread across his face. "Almost" he said and climbed up on the car.
****
Shopping at the outdoor market in Temple Bar yesterday, I went over to a cheese stall. I was looking at the cheeses when a little voice piped up "would you like to try this goat cheese? It is very good." I looked up. A cute little Chinese girl was standing on a crate behind the cheeses, helping her dad on the stall.
The cheese was good. It started to rain again. "Oh no," she said. I got soaked a while ago." Big smiles. "Me too." I decided on another cheese, pointing to it. "You can buy it in one of those (prepared wrapped wedges), but the other is fresher.
"Those are too small. I think I'll get that big wedge there."
She wrapped it up carefully and said "I can give it to you for 4.50." "Great" I said. I handed her the coins and she carefully counted them. Twice.
Her excitement at working the stall and efforts to say all the right things won me over. A dote.
So I answered the door and Fintan took one look at me and said "why is your hair red?" (It isn't.) I replied that I had got my hair cut that day. "Oh... it looks almost like mine" (it doesn't). I smiled and said "almost, we could be twins." A smile of wonder spread across his face. "Almost" he said and climbed up on the car.
****
Shopping at the outdoor market in Temple Bar yesterday, I went over to a cheese stall. I was looking at the cheeses when a little voice piped up "would you like to try this goat cheese? It is very good." I looked up. A cute little Chinese girl was standing on a crate behind the cheeses, helping her dad on the stall.
The cheese was good. It started to rain again. "Oh no," she said. I got soaked a while ago." Big smiles. "Me too." I decided on another cheese, pointing to it. "You can buy it in one of those (prepared wrapped wedges), but the other is fresher.
"Those are too small. I think I'll get that big wedge there."
She wrapped it up carefully and said "I can give it to you for 4.50." "Great" I said. I handed her the coins and she carefully counted them. Twice.
Her excitement at working the stall and efforts to say all the right things won me over. A dote.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Interacting with people and family
"I do love you, you know." A lovely thing to say... even if it does imply that the person saying it to me doesn't believe that I know this. It is easy to forget, I suppose. I was nonplussed to hear it and didn't really react. The strong emotion which followed also surprised me. It might have been the first time I have seen this person that upset about me.
Another interaction with a person, which takes place more often, is the regular conversation with Goldilocks. She is a dote of a 4 year old. Every time we first meet, she is reserved and takes a good while to feel comfortable enough to talk to me. She happily plays on her own until she feels like communicating with words. At some stage, I eventually go for a cigarette. The last time I did this she came to the door and shook her finger at me. Later in the evening she started in with her usual refrain, "those are gonna kill ya" (in a strong Dublin accent). She is one of the few people that I do not mind getting hassled by about my smoking. I have decided that I will give up cigarettes when Goldilocks is 10. Don't want to rush into anything after all.
I haven't been rushing to write in my blog in 2010. Well, I have started again today.
Another interaction with a person, which takes place more often, is the regular conversation with Goldilocks. She is a dote of a 4 year old. Every time we first meet, she is reserved and takes a good while to feel comfortable enough to talk to me. She happily plays on her own until she feels like communicating with words. At some stage, I eventually go for a cigarette. The last time I did this she came to the door and shook her finger at me. Later in the evening she started in with her usual refrain, "those are gonna kill ya" (in a strong Dublin accent). She is one of the few people that I do not mind getting hassled by about my smoking. I have decided that I will give up cigarettes when Goldilocks is 10. Don't want to rush into anything after all.
I haven't been rushing to write in my blog in 2010. Well, I have started again today.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Hibernating and Christmas
I wasn't feeling well earlier this week and the cold weather didn't help to dispel the achy impending flu/cold feeling, which I always find worse than actually being sick. Not to mention I was wrecked from the previous week's festivities... Monday night I was hibernating under my duvet by 8 pm, while my neighbors were out Christmas caroling in the -3 C. I even went without the mulled wine gathering at Francois's house after the carols--or instead of the carols in the case of Corkman (as I was later informed).
I slept about 17 hours... I must have been a bear in a past life. A couple of days later I started to feel a bit better. I walked to the local shop on the icy road and the weather seemed a bit more bearable. Still not in party form though.
Waking up Christmas morning was peaceful and relaxing. I opened my presents from the US on my own and then headed to Nanny Moses' for my annual visit and a delicious Christmas dinner. There were only 10 of us this year, a small gathering for that crowd. Way too many roast potatoes were prepared; Nanny Moses and her daughters are used to cooking for twice as many for Christmas. I met the latest addition to the family, who shares her name with GoGo Girl. GG's mate and I discussed whether GG II would be as mad as GG. Distantly related, there is a chance. GG II's mum, Niambh, has always impressed me as a strong woman. She takes everything in her stride and is extremely capable.
I got caught up on the family news and even won at darts. OK, the kid was only eleven and it took me ages to get the final double to win. Always enjoyable visiting the relatives. It has put me back in form.
I slept about 17 hours... I must have been a bear in a past life. A couple of days later I started to feel a bit better. I walked to the local shop on the icy road and the weather seemed a bit more bearable. Still not in party form though.
Waking up Christmas morning was peaceful and relaxing. I opened my presents from the US on my own and then headed to Nanny Moses' for my annual visit and a delicious Christmas dinner. There were only 10 of us this year, a small gathering for that crowd. Way too many roast potatoes were prepared; Nanny Moses and her daughters are used to cooking for twice as many for Christmas. I met the latest addition to the family, who shares her name with GoGo Girl. GG's mate and I discussed whether GG II would be as mad as GG. Distantly related, there is a chance. GG II's mum, Niambh, has always impressed me as a strong woman. She takes everything in her stride and is extremely capable.
I got caught up on the family news and even won at darts. OK, the kid was only eleven and it took me ages to get the final double to win. Always enjoyable visiting the relatives. It has put me back in form.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Still haven't written about Cuba
I have been awol for a few weeks... When I first arrived in Guadalavarca, I missed being online and writing for my blog. I did jot down notes here and there but am too lazy to get out of my bed and get them now. As the mojitos and Cuba libres started to flow, the notes dwindled.
I arrived at the resort early one Monday morning... only three days after I was supposed to have arrived. I am currently battling with Air France to try to get a refund after all the hassle they gave me. I have badmouthed them to many people, so I hope it affects their sales. Not to be petty.
Standing at the check-in desk, I looked around the open air lobby and spotted my friends who had been wondering what happened to me, according to the receptionist. They looked relaxed and happy. I joined them after getting my room pass. A coffee and cigarette later, I started to relax in the sunshine. Happy finally to be there. The receptionist came over to me again since she had apparently charged me too much. I ended up using three currencies to settle my bill. The resort was all-inclusive, meaning we ate and drank a lot. It is a great system.
After a while, Queenie and I went to get my suitcase and took the shuttle car to my room. She then instructed me on how to get to the beach and headed off. I followed her down. It was beautiful. Lying on a beach lounger, sipping my first mojito in Cuba, and catching up with my friend after not having seen her for seven months. Her husband, Outdoors Man, had gone fishing with an Englishman they had become friendly with at the resort. Heaven. For another four days anyway...
I arrived at the resort early one Monday morning... only three days after I was supposed to have arrived. I am currently battling with Air France to try to get a refund after all the hassle they gave me. I have badmouthed them to many people, so I hope it affects their sales. Not to be petty.
Standing at the check-in desk, I looked around the open air lobby and spotted my friends who had been wondering what happened to me, according to the receptionist. They looked relaxed and happy. I joined them after getting my room pass. A coffee and cigarette later, I started to relax in the sunshine. Happy finally to be there. The receptionist came over to me again since she had apparently charged me too much. I ended up using three currencies to settle my bill. The resort was all-inclusive, meaning we ate and drank a lot. It is a great system.After a while, Queenie and I went to get my suitcase and took the shuttle car to my room. She then instructed me on how to get to the beach and headed off. I followed her down. It was beautiful. Lying on a beach lounger, sipping my first mojito in Cuba, and catching up with my friend after not having seen her for seven months. Her husband, Outdoors Man, had gone fishing with an Englishman they had become friendly with at the resort. Heaven. For another four days anyway...
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Another busy week
I was sensible in the early part of the week... meditation class Monday, work project meeting Tuesday, and stayed in Wednesday. I was out and about on Thursday, hanging out with a friend and going to see a play, Tales of Ballycumber by Sebastian Barry. I also stopped off at my local on my way home. As one does.
Friday was hectic all day... I caught up with Wise Woman; I always enjoy our chats. Then I went for a coffee in my local Italian cafe in Stoneybatter. I startled the owner who had her head stuck in the fridge. I went out for a cigarette to give them time to finish opening. After a chat and a coffee, I had a massage appointment. Fabulous, even though I am still sore. Massage dude told me my back is special. Not in a good way.
Then I collected my passport and went shopping. Purple shoes and some essentials for my trip to Cuba are good to go. I am a speedy shopper, no loitering around for me. I rewarded myself with a glass of wine at my second favorite winebar in town. The manager still hadn't moved to Montpelier so I got a chance to say good-bye. I also accidentally knocked over an empty wine glass on the table next to mine. Oops.
Next I rushed home to dump my purchases, change into my purple shoes, and head to my local to meet my Parisian cousin. He was only in town for about an hour, as he had a train to catch to Athlone. What does one do for a weekend in Athlone? He wasn't sure. There is a chance he heads back to Dublin early if he and his son get bored there.
We said our good-byes after a single drink (he got to meet the staff) and I jumped into a taxi. Dinner was booked for 7 pm at One Pico, my favorite restaurant in Dublin. It is French and fancy... not somewhere I get to go to often.
Rugby Girl is heading off to Australia for six months. Her job will be here when she gets back. As she is off to join her Irish boyfriend there, we are now placing bets as to whether they get engaged or she changes her mind about coming back here. She does not believe in marriage though, unless it is for a visa.
Her leaving was our excuse for a good night out. Dinner was scrumptious and the camera got dragged out, as per usual. They insisted that we go to a pub afterward, teasing me about just wanting to go to my late-night winebar (I eventually left them and had a nightcap there, seeing the Ex and French Waiter there). I hate standing in pubs; the place was packed and there was a shortage of stools. Eventually I got a seat, so I perked up.
Anyway, good fun was had by all and it was a late night. The next morning I got up early and went to the all day meditation workshop. Unfortunately, I had already made plans for the afternoon so could only stay for two hours. I dozed off a bit during the body scan exercise, waking myself anytime I snored. The others on the course must have loved having me there.
I legged it back home, stopping only to purchase French cheese. The two Italians were outside my house when I got there and gave out about Irish timekeeping. We worked all afternoon and I was too tired afterward to go southside and meet my friend over from New York. I will see her and her kids on Monday instead.
It was a Saturday night and I fell asleep at 8pm, with the lights and radio still on. When I woke, I thought it was Sunday but it was only 3:30am. Perfect time to ring Lovebug for a long chat. She always makes me giggle. I am trying to convince her and her family to move to Ireland for a year. How cool would that be!
Friday was hectic all day... I caught up with Wise Woman; I always enjoy our chats. Then I went for a coffee in my local Italian cafe in Stoneybatter. I startled the owner who had her head stuck in the fridge. I went out for a cigarette to give them time to finish opening. After a chat and a coffee, I had a massage appointment. Fabulous, even though I am still sore. Massage dude told me my back is special. Not in a good way.
Then I collected my passport and went shopping. Purple shoes and some essentials for my trip to Cuba are good to go. I am a speedy shopper, no loitering around for me. I rewarded myself with a glass of wine at my second favorite winebar in town. The manager still hadn't moved to Montpelier so I got a chance to say good-bye. I also accidentally knocked over an empty wine glass on the table next to mine. Oops.
Next I rushed home to dump my purchases, change into my purple shoes, and head to my local to meet my Parisian cousin. He was only in town for about an hour, as he had a train to catch to Athlone. What does one do for a weekend in Athlone? He wasn't sure. There is a chance he heads back to Dublin early if he and his son get bored there.
We said our good-byes after a single drink (he got to meet the staff) and I jumped into a taxi. Dinner was booked for 7 pm at One Pico, my favorite restaurant in Dublin. It is French and fancy... not somewhere I get to go to often.
Rugby Girl is heading off to Australia for six months. Her job will be here when she gets back. As she is off to join her Irish boyfriend there, we are now placing bets as to whether they get engaged or she changes her mind about coming back here. She does not believe in marriage though, unless it is for a visa.
Her leaving was our excuse for a good night out. Dinner was scrumptious and the camera got dragged out, as per usual. They insisted that we go to a pub afterward, teasing me about just wanting to go to my late-night winebar (I eventually left them and had a nightcap there, seeing the Ex and French Waiter there). I hate standing in pubs; the place was packed and there was a shortage of stools. Eventually I got a seat, so I perked up.
Anyway, good fun was had by all and it was a late night. The next morning I got up early and went to the all day meditation workshop. Unfortunately, I had already made plans for the afternoon so could only stay for two hours. I dozed off a bit during the body scan exercise, waking myself anytime I snored. The others on the course must have loved having me there.
I legged it back home, stopping only to purchase French cheese. The two Italians were outside my house when I got there and gave out about Irish timekeeping. We worked all afternoon and I was too tired afterward to go southside and meet my friend over from New York. I will see her and her kids on Monday instead.
It was a Saturday night and I fell asleep at 8pm, with the lights and radio still on. When I woke, I thought it was Sunday but it was only 3:30am. Perfect time to ring Lovebug for a long chat. She always makes me giggle. I am trying to convince her and her family to move to Ireland for a year. How cool would that be!
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Getting ready for Cuba
I was at Glamor Minx's leaving drinks last night. We had organized it to be at O'Dwyer's, which is also known as Howl at the Moon. Although there was not a huge turnout, the usual suspects plus a few of the new crew showed up. More importantly, they had a 2 for 2 deal on cocktails. I switched to Havana Tornado, in honor of my upcoming trip to Cuba.
Sancho had teased me the previous evening about the attention I will get in Cuba... and tried to teach me some crucial Spanish phrases. I can't remember them unfortunately. No doubt I will recognize them if I hear them there. I am looking forward to the salsa dancing and the three days I will have on my own in Havana.
The cocktails were quite strong last night so I was sensible and headed home early. Glamor Minx had already left since she too was drinking cocktails and doesn't have much stamina; two kids keep her busy and out of trouble most of the time.
I have been checking my favorite blogs this morning. There are some really good writers out there. There is also one twitter site that I check. Diamond Lil was the one who pointed it out to me and her friends. I cried laughing the first time I read through what the guy's dad says. Here is one of my favorite sayings from this month, "That woman was sexy...Out of your league? Son. Let women figure out why they won't screw you, don't do it for them." For the complete listing, see Justin.
It is another crisp autumn day. Happy Halloween, gentle readers.
Sancho had teased me the previous evening about the attention I will get in Cuba... and tried to teach me some crucial Spanish phrases. I can't remember them unfortunately. No doubt I will recognize them if I hear them there. I am looking forward to the salsa dancing and the three days I will have on my own in Havana.
The cocktails were quite strong last night so I was sensible and headed home early. Glamor Minx had already left since she too was drinking cocktails and doesn't have much stamina; two kids keep her busy and out of trouble most of the time.
I have been checking my favorite blogs this morning. There are some really good writers out there. There is also one twitter site that I check. Diamond Lil was the one who pointed it out to me and her friends. I cried laughing the first time I read through what the guy's dad says. Here is one of my favorite sayings from this month, "That woman was sexy...Out of your league? Son. Let women figure out why they won't screw you, don't do it for them." For the complete listing, see Justin.
It is another crisp autumn day. Happy Halloween, gentle readers.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Godsons are the best
The other day I emailed Lovebug and Guido with this link for my godson, Diddums. He liked it and I read the reply last night, which cheered me no end "That was really cool and really crazy and I like that you told us. If there is any more nature cool stuff please email us back." This is the same kid who told me that I did not need to get him a present because he already had everything he needed.
Apparently I get on better with seven year olds than adult males, especially those who refuse to grow up. I had a fun dinner party last night to celebrate Spanish Guy #2's moving back to Spain (he really wants a proper nickname, so in honor of his leaving he will henceforth be known as Rafael). The guys liked the food I made, and I got a lovely thank you message from Sancho today. Rafael and Sancho headed off around 12:30 to continue the leaving celebration in Temple Bar. Dante il Bambino stayed for a short while for a discussion.
We have both been operating under different assumptions... language is sometimes a problem, as is understanding our differences. I was not impressed with his take on things, to put it mildly.
Luckily, my neighbor and friend Corkman called over for a nightcap. That eased the tension. Corkman was full of his woes this week, having been to the hospital twice since he was worried about his head. He fell on Sunday morning and has had bad headaches since. Mind you, he was also convinced that he had fractured his skull despite assurances from the good-looking female doctor that he had not.
Corkman's stories and tribulations are always entertaining and he can laugh at himself at the same time that he worries incessantly about whatever the current problem might be.
May Diddums never lose his sense of wonder and non-selfish ways. A gorgeous kid, no doubt he will be breaking girls' hearts when he is older. Unfortunately.
Apparently I get on better with seven year olds than adult males, especially those who refuse to grow up. I had a fun dinner party last night to celebrate Spanish Guy #2's moving back to Spain (he really wants a proper nickname, so in honor of his leaving he will henceforth be known as Rafael). The guys liked the food I made, and I got a lovely thank you message from Sancho today. Rafael and Sancho headed off around 12:30 to continue the leaving celebration in Temple Bar. Dante il Bambino stayed for a short while for a discussion.
We have both been operating under different assumptions... language is sometimes a problem, as is understanding our differences. I was not impressed with his take on things, to put it mildly.
Luckily, my neighbor and friend Corkman called over for a nightcap. That eased the tension. Corkman was full of his woes this week, having been to the hospital twice since he was worried about his head. He fell on Sunday morning and has had bad headaches since. Mind you, he was also convinced that he had fractured his skull despite assurances from the good-looking female doctor that he had not.
Corkman's stories and tribulations are always entertaining and he can laugh at himself at the same time that he worries incessantly about whatever the current problem might be.
May Diddums never lose his sense of wonder and non-selfish ways. A gorgeous kid, no doubt he will be breaking girls' hearts when he is older. Unfortunately.
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