Serene aquamarine

Another Sunday morning has rolled around. I am so proud I am awake in time to hear the Phantom morning show. And finding it so enjoyable, relaxing...

I woke a bit earlier and lay there looking out the window, trying to calculate how late it was (who needs clocks?). I mentally checked my muscles and mind to determine whether I should really turn over and go back to sleep, or if I should do the ambitious thing and get up. Choosing the latter, I walked to the clock on the microwave in the kitchen and was pleasantly surprised to find it was earlier than I had calculated. So what if my method isn't as scientific/accurate as others?

Toilet, radio on, email, facebook -- check in that order. Hot milky coffee... half drunk (coffee not I), I contemplated breakfast. I have cereal but no blueberries, so I didn't fancy it. I opened my fridge but nothing was appealing -- not even the slightly stale banana bread that I bought a while ago. I did throw out the half cucumber that was moldering. Fridge cleaned (ish), I decided on a cigarette in my patio patch with the remainder of my coffee. Breakfast of champions.

Although I am officially back on the cigarettes, I smoke so few a day that it is commendable (unless I end up at my winebar or local, then all bets are off). I can hear my Californians tsk tsking already.

Funnily enough, I am maybe one of the few working joes/josephines that know one of the rare benefits of smoking. I did a lot of reading at one stage on mental illnesses, medications, etc. (Go figure.) I have forgotten a lot of that information, or details/data, but one salient fact that I recall was that cigarettes are of benefit to schizophrenics. By smoking regularly (or constantly), schizophrenics can keep a grasp however tenuous on reality. For severe cases, running out of cigarettes before they get their monthly or weekly government payment can be traumatic. I saw it firsthand in the mid/late 1990s, possibly before I had even read about the cigarettes' benefit. I suppose witnessing it was what made the information stick with me.

Break for another cigarette... Ok, back now. The break got stretched into other things; facebook needed to be checked, mafia wars played, and travel map updated. I also sent a couple of emails. Vaguely thinking about taking a shower. I can't decide whether it is going to rain or not. Given that it is overcast and Ireland, that would probably be a yes at some point today.

The music is still brilliant, chilled indie rock. This entry has morphed into something other than what I had intended when I started. Maybe I'll save that topic for another day.

Glowing orange

This week has been all about the people in my life... and quality kid time. Work was almost painless (boss was out on holidays), I was working 3/4 time, and I learned interesting non-technical stuff.

I had dinner with Reggae Cool and his family Monday night. You can't beat home cooking, especially when someone else does it. The two elder kids are brilliant; I hadn't seen them in about 4 years. The baby was a baby, cute but boring. Until kids are toddlers I have absolutely no interest in them. My Dote (the 8 year old boy) got used to me again quickly and even read me a story. I teased him, asking if he was going to come live with me. He politely shook his head no. Then I asked if he was going to move out of the family home next week and get an apartment on his own. Yes, was the response. Little Trouble is going to give Reggae Cool headaches when she is a teenager. Payback big time. She remained fairly aloof from me that evening.

Tuesday I found a good hairdresser and got my hair chopped/styled. On my walk down the quays I also found the second Czech pub in Dublin. Good to know, as it is pretty close to my neighborhood. The sun was shining; it even felt like summer.

Wednesday was a few hours in the Phoenix Park with the three kids and Mum D from Prague. Man, I had forgotten how tiring hanging out and playing with kids outdoors is. I told Mum D I was wrecked when they headed off back home. She just laughed in agreement.
Later that evening I went to the gentle yoga and meditation class. The previous week had been my first proper yoga class in years, and I was puce by the end of it. This time it was a bit easier -- I could feel that I was more flexible doing the poses.

Thursday was dinner with Muso and his chilled, pregnant wife, the Diplomat. It was great catching up, even if some of the discussions revolved around baby stuff. Another bonus was that I discovered the great beer/smoking garden that the restaurant had. The owner of the place had come up to me when I was sitting out there before dinner and asked if the book I was reading was any good (it is). She commented that a lot of customers like to treat the garden as a library. I will definitely be going there again; it is just down the road from my office.

Friday night was dinner with other friends at their house. It was a leisurely feast, with great chats. Sailor was back from Amsterdam so he was there, too. My friends' daughter, Goldilocks, sat at her little pink table in the play area and then headed off to the front room to watch Nimo (again). Other than the odd shout "Mam" when she wanted something to drink or somebody in the room for the scary bit, she was largely absent.

Obviously, I have not cooked all week or even had to do much grocery shopping.

Red Gold

In addition to my latest, temporary vow of celibacy, I had also resolved last Saturday that should anyone ever ask me to dance in a situation that stretched my comfort zone/dancing skills, I would say yes. I still regret having turned down the offer to learn tango from a handsome Italian man after our mutual friends' wedding in Italy. It was a long time ago... I was in my Audrey Hepburn outfit and had just eased off my sandals. I panicked at his invitation and used the feeble excuse after looking around the cafe (which was not playing tango music) that my feet were sore.

In other words, my second vow was to take that well-known phrase "Dance like nobody is watching" to heart. Funnily enough, I put the vow to the test sooner than expected. When we arrived at my late-night wine bar the other night, it was pretty quiet. Some empty tables and only a few couples or regulars at the bar. Reggae Cool gave me some money for the wine and went off to choose a table with Chica. I followed the waiter over -- after sensibly asked for a carafe of water as well -- and joined them.

After a while I got impatient that the staff had not made room in the tiny dining room for the dance floor. Newcomers were sitting in the middle of our dance floor. So I went over and cheekily asked them to move to another, free table, explaining they were now sitting on the after hours dance floor. I swear I was sober. After a moment's hesitation they kindly obliged me.

Reggae Cool and Chica got up to dance salsa style. She was a good salsa dancer, I noticed. I already knew he was very good. Another few people got up. A blond woman in her 30s got up to dance on her own. Reggae and Chica returned to the table. Next thing I knew, the Blond held out her hand to me mid-dance. I shrugged, laughed, and got up to join her.

It was good fun. We chatted a bit while dancing... I thought she was Scottish but she was French from Montpelier, which I only know of by name; she thought I was Irish but I am not. She has lived in Dublin for 11 or so years, me a total of 14 so far. We were not dancing salsa style, more of our own somewhat bouncy styles. At one point she stopped dancing, looked at me and said "you are a sexy woman." I stopped dancing in surprise, thanked her and then kept dancing. I honestly can't remember the last time somebody thought I was sexy.

I have to say it is good for the ego. Especially since a neighbor had asked me if I was pregnant last Friday night (I'm not).

Dancing burgundy

...and the title is not because I was drinking red wine, although I was.

I ended up in my favorite late-night wine bar with Reggae Cool and one of his many women. Before she had met up with us, he had been filling me in about his latest amorous adventures. Normally, he sails calmly through all of them. He knows and is the first to admit that he will never leave his wife of 10 years and their kids. He also claims that theirs is an open relationship, and she knows what he is like (I can only attest to the latter).

Anyway, I liked this girl, whom we shall call Chica. I behaved myself and let them be. She was mature, interesting to talk to--and didn't care that she had to share Reggae's attention with another female friend. I admit that I didn't like the other one I met last December, and gave her a hard time. Bad neighbor that I am...

I am friendly with the wife, Mum D, and I could see that your one (not Chica, not Mum D) a) didn't like me and b) was only a temporary fling. So I made things worse. I couldn't resist myself even though I have no desire to be added to Reggae Cool's harem... not that he hasn't asked. It was like taking candy from a baby.
After she had sulked for a while, I behaved again and left the adults to it.
Reggae Cool still teases me about it.

Mellow yellow

Sunday mornings. I'd be showing my age if I had titled this one "Easy like a Sunday morning." I still have vivid memories of taking a leisurely bath one Sunday morning decades ago at a French boy's house and listening to that song...

This is the first Sunday in ages that I woke up in time to hear my favorite Sunday am radio show. Mellow, chilled music. The DJ, Pearl, has an agreeable voice and does not chatter. She also picks fab tunes.

I will shortly start getting ready and stroll into town to meet Rugby Chick for brunch. This has been such a good weekend, on so many levels. And it is not over yet. ;-)

Duck egg blue

A facial and a pedicure are two of the best cures for that slightly hungover, ashtray mouth that sometimes happens. (Never intentionally planned, of course.) Waxing, however, is contra-indicated.

Dark sunglasses and tightly clutched bottle of water optional.

I even got a discount from the bus conductor afterward. I couldn't think of the name of the area I wanted to get off in. He took one look at me and said the shopping area? Oh yes, please.

Inspired, quick shopping in a chi chi shop I had not been to over a year. Won't have to go looking for those shoes next week after all.

Ever so mild of cravings for another cig.

Dusty rose

Ok, really it should be titled pink... but for whatever reason "dusty rose" is a bit more palatable. Less girly, shall we say.

My Friday was a really good day off... woke up late to a friend ringing me to invite me to a lunch with a few other ladies and one small, well-behaved child, Goldilocks, whose favorite color is pink. A healthy lunch and a couple of hours later, I had to abandon them to find a quiet corner to take a phone call from my boss. It was the meeting that had originally been scheduled for the day before--the one I had fretted about. Anyway, I dodged the bullet this round and the conversation went all right. I could have saved myself hours of worrying needlessly.
To celebrate myself and one of the ladies met up again and went shopping. She advised me on what to try on since she already had her outfit for the wedding but I didn't. Not in a million years would I have picked out the dress that she suggested. I didn't even think that it would fit and was convinced that I would have to get the next size up. I tried it anyway, at her urging. She was right and it was much better on that I would have thought. It was also on sale. Bargain.
Next week I get to go shopping for shoes. That one I can do by myself.