Terri's Web Stuff

What do you see when you look out your window?

2009-07-10T17:08:00.001+01:00

From my desk I can see the top few floors of the buildings on the next block.
Building 1 is a social housing type apartment block. The residents wear track-suits and yell a lot and I'm fairly sure many of the conversations we witness during the day could very well be drug deals. But who am I to judge.
The building next to that is an office block. Slightly bedgraggled flowers in pots occupy window sills next to stacks of papers and pen-holders, and the window-blinds are always rolled up. Occasionally I see people moving around in the murkiness inside; probably, like us, getting up to a) make coffee b) have a meeting c) potty / smoke break or d) lunch break. Not terribly interesting.
Building 3 is the prettiest of the lot. It has been built in the manner of the French style, with rooms in the roof, so to speak. I think it is an apartment block because the windows all look different from each other. I never see signs of life, leading me to believe the people who live there are not home during the day; i.e. they have jobs or go to college or do whatever else fills their lives... Except for the window on the end, second from the top. It seems a young couple live there. Every morning at around 11:50 Rapunzel flings the window open as wide as it will go, and smokes a cigarette, blowing the smoke outside. I notice the time because it's 10 minutes before I head downstairs for my own midday fag. She obviously doesn't want the apartment to smell of smoke; my guess is she is house-proud - there are 4 healthy-looking potplants on that window-sill and the curtains are prettily draped. And yes, I call her Rapunzel because she has really long blonde hair.
Her flatmate is as just as predictable but much more disturbing. He must work night shift because every afternoon he arrives at the window for a good ol' stretch as if he's just rolled out of bed... stark naked. It's kind of distracting, for example if I'm on the phone with a colleague and I happen to glance out of my window just at that moment to see yer man in all his glory exposing himself to the Universe - does anyone remember the whole "Ugly Naked Guy" debacle from Friends...?!

Yep, sometimes my life is just one big sitcom.

Holiday snaps

2009-06-18T20:16:00.005+01:00

Hello all! (All being the 3 of you who still read this blog. You're still there, aren't you?)

Well we're about half way through our holiday and having a ball but man, being on holiday can be tiring. I've done more socialising in the last week than I have in the last 6 months.
And I caught a cold. But that's OK, I'm surviving and it's great to be home.

The weather is great - as expected, warmer here in mid-Winter than Dublin is at the moment where it is mid-Summer. Our neighbours, who are travelling with us, can't quite get over it.

We spent the first 3 days in Cape Town and an old friend of ours was kind enough to play tour guide and show us around the place. He even stopped regularly so I could take photographs, although the temptation to disrupt my photography almost got the better of him outside the Brass Bell in Kalk Bay...

We hired a car and drove from Cape Town to Port Elizabeth, breaking the trip into 2 days so as not to overwhelm our Irish friends too much with the vastness of our beautiful country.

I was glad we decided on this. Normally Hubby would be in such a rush to get the 800km drive over with that there's no way he would have stopped for me to take arbitrary pictures such as this one...

But he did, so I could, and you lucky things are the beneficiaries.

Well since getting to Port Elizabeth we have been on the go non-stop. There are so many things going on I am not even going to scratch the surface of them now. To be honest I am sort of on auto-pilot right now, hence the fluffy photo post. It's about all I can manage but I sort of needed to do something to take myself away from reality for a few minutes. I'd forgotten how draining it can be to come home, sometimes.

We're going to see some lions tomorrow (hopefully) and this weekend we're heading off to a game farm where the lads will do some hunting and we gals will probably do a lot of book reading and nail painting. Aaah, some rest, at last...

:-)

Little Grey Meltdown

2009-06-08T17:30:00.003+01:00

What exactly are the symptoms of a mental breakdown? How does a person know they're having one?

Or 'burnout' for that matter... are they the same thing?

I look around me at all the people going about their daily lives without problem or issue or interruption, mundane smiles and normal expressions on their faces and I wonder, "How the hell do they do it?"

Here I sit, at my desk, the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely are the earphones playing the beautiful music of Rob Thomas in my head. Or the sassy tones of Daniel Powter. Giving vent to my expressive side. Because heaven forbid I should express myself at work - that is Simply Not Acceptable.

The Little Grey People, you see, among whose millions of numbers I am counted as one, are not allowed to be expressive. We sit at our desks, shuffle papers (or, as in my case, tap on keyboards) and smile benignly at one another, then go home to our standard-design houses in sprawling estates and do what all the other Little Grey People do, week in and week out.

I'm afraid I don't think I can do this anymore, though. I'm afraid that if I live the life of a Little Grey Person for much longer my head may just explode and that would just be terribly, terribly messy.
Luckily for all concerned, I am about to go on holiday. "Again?!" I hear you ask. Yes, again. Hubby and I are going back to South Africa for 2 1/2 weeks, and this time our friends / neighbours are coming with us. (This one of those ideas... born in a bottle of wine while watching the home movies we've been transferring from video tape to DVD... They wanted to see what our homeland looks like, the next thing you know we're booking flights!)
So anyway, yes, another holiday. And not a moment too soon.

It doesn't sound like the life of a Little Grey Person, does it? Then again, how often do I update this blog? Only every time I have something interesting to share. In fact most of the time I fudge it, in fact. Sorry about that. I'm hoping that will change shortly though.
Watch this space.

Soundtrack to The Life Of Terri

2009-05-23T22:52:00.000+01:00

I started writing this post a very long time ago - 2005, in fact. I kinda borrowed it from fellow blogger Undr, who has long-since departed the blogosphere (more's the pity). He was a really nice guy, and I'm sure he won't mind me using his idea.

The idea is to compile the soundtrack to the movie that is my life.
This is not my list of favourite songs - not even close. They are just songs that have very strong memories attached to them.
So I guess mine goes something like this:

1. Rhinestone Cowboy (Glen Campbell) - It's the first song I remember knowing the words to. I must have been all of about 4 years old and I remember dancing around in the kitchen when it played on the radio while my mom was doing whatever it was that moms do in kitchens when one is 4 years old.

2. Dancing Queen (ABBA) - Memories of cold winters in the Transvaal (South Africa), me and my sisters dancing to this in our pyjamas in front of the old asbestos heater in the lounge after we'd had our bath on a Sunday evening. I'm sure our parents were mightily entertained.

3. Bohemian Rhapsody (Queen) - Makes me think of my oldest friend, when we were kids and our parents used to have parties together. In hindsight I'd say there was an awful lot of beer, etc, consumed by our parents. We were oblivious, happy just to have long days and nights to play together.

4. Cracklin' Rose (Neil Diamond) - We gave my father a Neil Diamond tape for one of his birthdays when I was a child and we listened to it in the car on the way to a weekend away at a hot springs resort called De Bron. I got dunked in the swimming pool that weekend and it scared the wits out of me. I also ran full-tilt down a hill and smacked into a split-pole fence (I just didn't see it!) giving myself an almighty black eye. D'oh!

5. Bridge Over Troubled Water (Simon & Garfunkel) - Another car song that reminds me of my dad, and my sisters, because we all love it and my Mom still has the LP at her house. Hey, I just noticed the connection to #4..!

6. Lawyers in Love (Jackson Browne) - One of the first songs I remember from when I first started taking an interest in the Top 20. Cool song, and I still love it.

7. Two Tribes (Frankie Goes to Hollywood) - Aah, my first boyfriend... He was shorter than me, and when he dumped me (via a note passed across the classroom) he told me I was too pushy and should go burn my bra. The laugh was on him - I hadn't started wearing bra's yet, haha!

8. You Win Again (Bee Gees) - From the first time I heard this song I knew it would make #1. I love being right!

9. You Spin Me Round (Dead or Alive) - Ooh, my first French Kiss... I didn't have a clue what to do!

10. Wake me up before you go-go (Wham!) - Dancing in front of the TV with my oldest friend and singing our heads off. Puberty, eh? Oh wait, I still do that ;-)

11. Last Christmas (Wham!) - Hm, 2 "Wham!" songs in a row? My first unrequited love - someone told me I had a crush on him so he asked me to dance to this song, and I thought I was in heaven. That was really nice of him, don't you think? One of those far too infrequent random acts of kindness.

12. With or Without You (U2) - I kissed my first Serious boyfriend to this. It was the 80's; a time of tight jeans and big hair. Needless to say none of it lasted.

13. Locomotion (Kylie Minogue) - My final year in high school - what a party! Kylie pretty much summarises it... (ooh, and there was also that Beach Boys song that year... "Kokomo" - good times...!)

14. Sealed with a Kiss (Jason Donovan) - He broke my heart...

15. Unchained Melody (Righteous Brothers) - Always made me cry because of the movie "Ghost", but then hubby dispelled all of that by dancing to it with me when we were on holidays in the Canary Islands a few years back. We were the only two people on the dance floor and it was incredibly romantic :-)

16. Black Velvet (Allanah Myles) - My party years as a student. This particular song always brings to mind my very good friend, who has the voice of an angel. Sadly, we're not friends anymore, in the way the world taught me I could expect to get kicked in the teeth when I'm not expecting it.

17. I Can't fight this feeling (REO Speedwagon) - First time I danced with hubby, long before he was my hubby. He sang this softly in my ear while we danced and I still think of it as "our song". The lyrics could've been written for us, and tug at my heart every time I hear them.

18. Truly Madly Deeply (Savage Garden) - Rang out at our wedding after the signing of the register. I chose it because of the lyrics.

19. Angels (Robbie Williams) - I went mad on Robbie when we moved over to Ireland because you couldn't go half an hour with the radio on without hearing one of his songs. I was on a bus going to work one cold, dark morning, and when Angels came on the radio the bus driver turned up the volume just a tad, and everyone on the bus fell completely silent until the song had finished.
Then there was me and 135000 other people who sang it 'unplugged' at his concert in Phoenix Park here one summer... magic!

20. Pretty Woman (Roy Orbison) - The "Thelma & Louise" moment of my life: driving through the countryside in Cyprus with my sister, wind blowing in our hair, sun shining, and us singing our hearts out with not a care in the world!

21. Unwell (Matchbox 20) - Pretty much covers how I've been feeling the last 5 years or so. Check out the link. Enough said.

22. There's something missing here and I'm not really sure what it is. Although, perhaps it's exactly what I'm listening to right now. Here's a shocker: something classical. Because I even stopped writing a few minutes ago to close my eyes and listen to and dance in my head to Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the flowers from the Nutcracker (and to be honest my feet and hands were going a bit berserk too). It symbolises something that has been a constant in my life; the style may have changed over the years - from ballet as a kid, to disco and then club, and now Salsa, but dancing has always been an important form of expression for me and this piece of music is so uplifting that it's impossible NOT to want to dance to it. Do yourself a favour; take a few minutes of time-out and click the link; check out the audience and you'll know what I mean. And tell me you don't feel uplifted afterwards.

Well I think that about covers it so far.
I'll let you know about the sequel in another thirty-something years...

can I have my brain back please?

2009-05-22T14:11:00.005+01:00

For the last few years I have been fighting a losing battle against migraines. I find the whole thing terribly frustrating, particularly since up until I started getting them, I didn't believe in them. I thought they were just a word used by people who had a bad headache when they wanted the world to feel sorry for them. So when I started getting these 'headaches' that wouldn't let up for 3 days at a time, accompanied by nausea and extreme sensitivity to light and noise, and leave me feeling like I'd swum the English Channel or something afterwards, I was rather annoyed when I was diagnosed with the word "Migraine".
The worst part about these things is that no painkillers help. Some of them manage to dull the pain slightly, but most just make me sleepy. And considering that one of the symptoms is extreme 'grogginess' (for want of a better term), this is Just Not Cool.
I have tried a number of things in an attempt to bring them under control. I cut out caffeine, for one thing. This did help, to a degree; it brought the frequency of the attacks down to about once a month. But they have still been getting steadily worse and it is getting to a point where I just want to sit in a corner and cry when I get them, now. I am losing the will to fight.

I think my GP finally got the message because he referred me to a Neurologist, whom I went to see a couple of weeks back.
It turns out there's hope.
He asked me a bunch of questions, made me touch my nose with my fingertip and walk in a straight line and checked my hearing and reflexes. He then sent me for an MRI scan, and put me on medication, which I should apparently take for up to a year, after which, if all goes according to plan, the migraines should disappear. Hallelujah!!!
(They couldn't have tried this a few years back...?!!)
The MRI is a just-in-case thing, to be 100% sure that there isn't a cabbage growing in my head or something, but he seemed pretty confident they wouldn't find anything. The cool thing about that is that I now have pictures of my brain. The not-so-cool thing about it is that halfway through the scan I discovered I am, in fact, quite claustrophobic. Not the greatest timing in the world, and it wasn't an experience I would be in a hurry to repeat; I soon forgot the giggles I had when I initially went into the machine (eyes closed) and the weird mechanical noises started and the thought crossed my mind that this must be what it feels like to be abducted by aliens. Just a hint: If you ever have an MRI, KEEP YOUR EYES CLOSED. Pretend you're in a field of daisies or something. It's much better than the reality which is that you're in a Very Confined Space where Nobody Can Hear You.

That aside, this whole post is not actually to give you a guide on how to behave when getting an MRI, nor a complete medical history on Yours Truly. What I actually wanted to share was something of an epiphany.

You see, two days after I started on these tablets the Doc gave me, something truly weird happened. It took me a while to figure out what was going on. I just felt strange; but in an entirely good way. My mood lifted quite suddenly and it was as if I was really there, in my skin, instead of slightly disconnected from the world; as if a veil had been lifted. I felt focused - my thoughts, my vision, my feelings and even sensation. The word that popped into my head was "Clarity".
It felt bloody wonderful, let me tell you!
I find this extremely difficult to explain, but I want to try because it is a really big deal to me. It has been a difficult few years for me; apart from the migraines I also went through quite a bad depression that involved medication and therapy - all of these are things that I never thought would happen to me, but never mind that now. Somewhere in the midst of struggling through all of this I lost my mental sharpness. This is the part that is hard to explain and I fear I may end up sounding somewhat condescending or uppity or ... oh what the hell, this is my blog so if you don't like it, don't read it. Throughout my whole life the one thing I never had to worry about was my intelligence. I'm a very bright girl and I don't think I have ever been confronted with anything that I thought was too difficult for me to do, or to figure out. It was kind of comforting to know that I could always count on my brain. But somewhere in the last few years that changed. I started finding it difficult to concentrate at work, and battled to work through problems. The last course I went on was almost frightening in the way I just wasn't able to keep up. And then the unthinkable happened: I actually failed an exam.
Needless to say this hasn't done my self-esteem much good, but that, too, is another topic entirely.
When all this went on, I just accepted it as part of getting older; I figured I was now over 35, and they say the mind is the first to go and this was obviously what was happening to me. Best I just learn to accept my new limitations because there's nothing that can be done about it.

Except... then the Clarity came. And I was able to do my work and know when I was done that I hadn't made any mistakes, that I had remembered to check everything, and that it wasn't necessary to go over everything again. I did, anyway, almost unable to believe it, and I was right. There were no mistakes. I was able to hold my focus all the way through the task at hand. I was also able to hold conversations without losing the thread of what I was saying. I was.... Lucid!
It even showed when we went out over the weekend and I played a game of pool. When I put my mind to it I was able to willingly focus on what I was doing. I haven't been able to do that in such a long time... and I had thought I wouldn't be able to do that again.
And I never said anything to anyone, because I thought they'd think I was just mad.
Perhaps I thought I was a little mad.

All of which leads me to suspect that these migraine things are worse than I thought; One of the symptoms, as I told the Neurologist, is a sensation of being 'disconnected' from myself and the world. But what I didn't realise, because it's been that way for so long, is that even between the episodes where the headaches attack so violently, I think I have still had some of the other symptoms lingering; this constant mental noise or fog being one of them. (A need for afternoon naps is another - I made it through last weekend without even considering a nap!)

Now I'm not a medical expert by any means and perhaps I should spend some more time on Google with this thing. Or perhaps I'll just mention it the next time I see the man.
But right now I am just holding out hope that perhaps I'm not crazy... and perhaps I will get my brain back after all.

Holiday, Portuguese style

2009-05-03T20:29:00.007+01:00

I'm going to give you the abridged version of the Trip Report this time.

Portugal was Fantastic!!!

Hm, I guess I should say a bit more than that. OK, here goes...

The hotel was lovely. If ever you decide you want to nip off to a small, quiet-ish town in the Algarve you should try the Tivoli Almansor in Carvoeiro. The room was spacious, the food brilliant and the staff impeccably helpful. And you can only imagine the view from our room on the 6th floor...

HOTEL TIVOLI ALMANSOR, CARVOEIRO, PORTUGAL

We took it easy for the first couple of days, then did one or two things in between relaxing. Being a de facto Irishwoman, it would be remiss of me not to mention the weather: It was Great! Plenty of warmth and sunshine, just what we needed. It was tempered only by a chilly breeze on our last couple of days there but it wasn't cold enough to keep us indoors by any means.

To help us relax, on our second day there Dave had a full body masssage, while I decided to see what Reiki was all about. I had a migraine so I was desperate enough to try anything to get rid of it. Well I don't know if I would rush back and do it again but I must admit that lying in a room with only candles for light, with classical music playing while someone energises your shakras (is that right?) is a wonderful way to relax. And to be fair, a few hours later the migraine lifted so who knows. Perhaps it wasn't just coincidence.

On day 3 Dave decided it was time for us to get off our sun loungers and do something. So we went scuba diving. We were both scuba-virgins and I must admit I was a little nervous. We got a bit of a theory lesson, then squeezed into our wetsuits and plopped into the swimming pool.

SCUBA DIVING 101

It was really convenient to have the scuba-diving centre on the hotel premises where we could practise in the pool before heading down to the private beach and into the sea (once I had gotten my head around breathing while underwater, and moved on from a mild panic attack in the process). Dave, of course, took to it like he'd been doing it his whole life. And when we did venture into the sea, I loved it! There were still a few moments of angst but the instructor was so kind, he actually held my hand while we were underwater, which helped to reassure me.
I was truly touched at how kind and patient he was - would that there were more people like that in the world.

We did a bit of shopping while we were there, too. The little town of Carvoeiro has some great little clothing shops, but me being the bargain-hunter that I am, I waited until we went on a day-trip to the inland town of Loulé, where we spent a few hours wandering around a Gypsey market. I didn't buy any Gypsies, but I did pick up a beautiful dress, among other things.

SHOPPING AT THE GYPSEY MARKET

We also ate a snack from a caravan there, that smelled and tasted just like Vetkoek^[1].

On our second-last day the wind was blowing fairly strongly, not great for sunbathing at all. I wanted to walk up to the end of the cliff we could see from our room; it looked really inviting for some reason. So we did this, and ended up spending the whole morning on the cliffs, walking and climbing a bit, stopping to find sheltered spots to sit and stare out to sea and watch the seagulls, of which there were plenty. The way they played on the wind and squawked and cried to each other made me want to come back as a seagull in my next life. It just looks like so much fun!

LOTS OF CLIFFS TO WALK

And that was the sum total of our activity while we were there. Apart, of course, from our evening meals. I love going to a different restaurant every night, and the food didn't disappoint at all. There wasn't much other night life to speak of. We tried to have a big night on the Saturday night after our dinner, but the few bars and pubs that were open were pretty much empty, save a small number of golfers. I can't imagine why one would go to such a lovely part of the world and play Golf all day, and spend all night with your Golfing buddies. But then I'm not a man. Apparently beauty and romance are not high on their list of priorities.

FROM THE BEACH IN CARVOEIRO TOWN

So that, in a nutshell, was our holiday in the Algarve. It was the sort of place that I could happily have not come home from. Sunshine, friendly people, slow pace of life, great food and beautiful scenery - what more could a girl ask for?!

If you're interested in seeing more of my photos from the holiday, check out my Flickr photostream.

***

^[1] Vetkoek: A traditional South African food, basically a really light dough mixture that is deep-fried the way Donuts are. Yum. Yum. Yum!

some time can be such a drag

2009-04-20T17:11:00.002+01:00

This has to be the longest afternoon in History. The sun is shining brightly outside with only a faint breeze to stir the air; the window next to my desk is open 'cos the aircon went on the blink earlier so I can hear the sounds of summer outside. Have you ever noticed how Summer days sound different? It's almost like you can hear the sunshine.

(Don't get the wrong idea here; when I say Summer I only mean it's not grey, cold and wet outside. This is still Ireland, after all. For us 14° Celcius is genuinely pleasant after our long, dreary Winter, though I realise this is hardly rush-out-and-get-a-tan weather.)

So here I sit inside at my desk with nothing to do (it's been really quiet here just lately, I'm pretty sure it won't last, though) and all I wanna do is leave now, get out there in the sunshine and... well just be anywhere except where I am.
Tick-tock Tick-tock
I'm sure my impatience to get started on my holiday is not helping matters.
Tick-tock Tick-tock
Did I mention I'm on holiday for a week starting tomorrow?
Tick-tock Tick-tock
Ugh, if the minutes were going any slower I'd be getting younger...!
Tick-tock Tick-tock
Not that I'd complain about that, though. Maybe I'd get my old butt back then. I'm not so very fond of the new one, I gotta tellya.
Tick-tock Tick-tock
45 Minutes to go.
I doubt I can drag this post out that long though. I just don't have that much to say.

homesick?

2009-04-08T17:36:00.001+01:00

I dreamt about home last night. Home as in my home town in South Africa. Only, it wasn't really my home town - it looked completely different - but I knew I was home because it felt like home and I knew where everything was. Plus, I knew it wasn't Ireland because the sun was shining and it was warm.
I've dreamt of that place before, the same as it was in my dream. It must be the way my brain has put images and scenes from home together in my head. There is a long promenade running along the beachfront, lined with seafood restaurants, bars and cafés. Further out there is a big cliff overlooking the sea, where I like to park the car and take photographs of the sunset; from there I can look down and see a large cultivated park where people walked their dogs and take their children to play. Further inland dense green bush hides camping grounds and game farms; places people go for long weekends, reached by red-gravel roads.
In my dream I didn't want to leave but I had to; I guess you don't have to be Freud to figure this one out..!

Coincidence? Or shared consciousness?

2009-03-25T17:41:00.002Z

I overheard a conversation between some of my colleagues this morning, in which they were discussing George Clooney. It was nothing new: the same tired argument - the men were saying he is gay, the women were arguing. In my personal opinion the only reason men say this is that they are all horribly jealous of M. Clooney - and why wouldn't they be?!
But that is not the point here.

The point is the weirdness, and that is that this conversation pinged something in my head and I suddenly remembered that I dreamt about the man himself last night. Yep, George Clooney, large as life, was in my dreams. It wasn't one of those dreams either (unfortunately); it was far more realistic. I was in jeans and a T-shirt, he was in a group of people obviously pandering to his every need (secretaries, publicists and the like) but for some reason we started a conversation and he ignored all of them for a few minutes. It was then that I told him I'd always known we would meet each other, which he found very amusing. We got along really well, and then he had to go, which was a little sad but sure, I have a husband you know and I have no desire to be part of the whole Hollywood scene. Far too many fake people there for my liking!

Yeah, kind of boring, I know.
Makes you wish it WAS one of those dreams, doesn't it.

The thing is, though, it's not as if dear George is a regular topic of conversation in our office. Nor do I dream of him every night (more's the pity...!) So what's up with the timing?
It's like when you think of someone, out of the blue, who hasn't entered your mind in ages and then the next day you bump into them on the street. That happened to me a LOT, with one particular person, actually - the ex-boyfriend of one of my sisters. If it had happened once, OK I can put it down to coincidence. Twice, maybe. But we're talking about maybe up to 10 times, spanning a period of something silly like a decade.
(And then one day we moved into a new house only to discover a few months later that this guy was one of our neighbours!)

There comes a point where I have to start wondering: Is there such a thing as coincidence? Or is there something going on in our subconscious that creates these things. Some might even play the 'psychic' card.

I figured I would put my own theory in here, but when I tried I realised I don't have one. At least not one that is a fully formed idea.

So what do you think? Psychic? Shared consciousness? Or just plain coincidence..?

Top o' da mornin' to ye..!

2009-03-18T13:41:00.000Z

Ireland is a mass hangover today courtesy of that ancient serpent exterminator, Saint Patrick.
It's quite funny to look around the office; pretty much everyone has an ever-so-slightly gray pallor and the drone of voices is a little huskier than normal. It's a funny aul' place, this. Every year on March 17th traffic across the country grinds to a halt around midday as St Patrick's Day parades take to the streets not only in Dublin but in pretty much most towns. Even the little town I live in had a parade; apparently about 1000 people turned out to watch which is actually pretty good (you haven't seen the size of the village I live in!)

In my 8 1/2 years in Ireland I have only bothered watching the parade in Dublin twice. The first time it was bitterly cold and lashing rain outside, but being our first year in the country we kind of had to go, really. The second time we went because it wasn't lashing rain and we wanted to see if the parade was any better. It wasn't. This seems something of a tradition here: Mobs of people watching a mediocre parade that has been advertised as the best thing since they discovered the Bog Man.
Only, you don't get to see anything except the back of the head in front of you and to do this you have to be trained in the Art of Fighting for your Space in a Crowd, else you get elbowed and pushed and shoved until you pop out of the back of the crowd like a champagne cork. So most people forego going into Dublin for the parade - the onlookers on the streets are mostly tourists. The locals are all in the pub, eating and drinking waaaay too much and perhaps watching the Parade as it is broadcast on the small out-of-focus TV mounted in a dark corner above the bar.

This was the tradition we followed yesterday, Hubby and I (after going for a breakfast run on our bikes in the morning because it was one of those rare St Patrick's Days when the sun was shining on the Emerald Isle). For the rest of the afternoon pub grub and too much beer was the order of the day, in an old country pub filled with locals from the area thirsty for a pint after the parade.

'Twas a grand day indeed :-)

The cavemanperson in me is alive and well

2009-02-28T19:35:00.002Z

A good friend of mine is due to give birth within the next few weeks and I have become aware of a very strong need to be with her around about the time the baby comes. It's not the first time I have felt this way since moving away - it happened when my niece was born, in Cape Town, as well as when two of my other friends had their babies, also in South Africa, while I was over here in Ireland.
And this one is even further away, in New Zealand.

Don't get me wrong, I pretty much always miss my friends. I think we make the strongest friendships in our younger years and these are the people I'm talking about; the ones with whom we have grown from girls into women. We have seen each other through falling in love and heartbreak, through marriages, births, divorces and the deaths of loved ones.

It is in these milestone times that women draw strength and support from each other as much as sharing happiness. The term "I'm happy for you" isn't just a pleasantry, we feel genuine joy when a friend finds true happiness.

Childbirth, however, is a time when I feel a much stronger pull than simply missing my friend. It is an instinct, almost primal, to gather around her, make tea, boil water (for the tea, perhaps?)... whatever, just make sure mum and baby are nurtured.
(And husbands, too, I suppose, although they should be well able to feed themselves if they have reached a point where they feel they are able to become fathers!)
But, no offense, this is about a woman and her new offspring.

Perhaps it stems from centuries ago, when communities lived in closer quarters, when men went out hunting for ages at a time and women were left to take care of... pretty much everything else, really. In fact I have a very clear picture in my mind of me, with my closest friends, my mother and my sisters, all hovering around a woman with her newborn child, in our cave wearing clothes made from animal skins, cooking meals over an open fire. It seems to fit in with how I am feeling now.

Unfortunately, I will have to make do with emails and phone calls and digital photographs and SMS messages again. It's a poor substitute, but then again, it's better than nothing, and I know that my friend knows I am with her in spirit.

Say, I am kind of liking that picture of being a cave-dweller; civilization is sooo overrated sometimes!

When is it time to shoot the horse?

2009-02-17T09:23:00.001Z

I am not really asking advice on horse murder here, it was a metaphor. What I really want to know is how does one know when the time has come to delete one's blog.
Is it when one only gets round to posting something new once a month... at the most?
Is it when the comments on one's infrequent posts become even less frequent than the posts themselves?
Or is it when one no longer has the thought, "I'm gonna blog about this!" half a dozen times a day; in fact one battles to find anything at all that seems blog-worthy in one's life.
Ponderous questions, indeed.

But then what if one doesn't want to delete one's blog and lose all the hours of work that have gone into it in the sum of all those posts. One can't help but think of the time spent writing, rewriting and agonising over the wording, not to mention finding and editing pictures and photographs. A blog is a creative thing, something born of one's own inventiveness. Hitting the "Delete Blog" button is quite a big deal, when the blog in question has been a work-in-progress for around 5 years.

Perhaps I'll ponder the question a bit more. After all, no-one ever accused me of making decisions quickly.

The funny side of politics

2009-01-21T09:37:00.001Z

Our intranet page scrolls the latest news headlines in the sidebar.
Two of today's headlines (in this order) were...

"OBAMA BEGINS FIRST DAY AS US PRESIDENT"

"KENNEDY RECOVERING AFTER SEIZURE"

Am I the only one who finds this incredibly funny?

On the same topic, actually, though on a slightly less humorous note, I overheard a conversation between two colleagues this morning that sum it all up perfectly:

Pleb 1 (voice dripping with sarcasm): "So did anyone watch the 'coronation' on TV yesterday?"
Pleb 2: "Ah c'mon, dude, give Obama a bit of a break, willya? Even I, the hardened cynic, want to believe in this guy. The world needs a bit of hope, man."

'Nuff said, I reckon.

Randomness: the good, the bad and the odd

2009-01-06T21:07:00.007Z

Is the Universe smiling on me?
Everyone told me, when I got to my home town in December, that I must've brought good weather with me. It was gorgeous the whole week, and only on the day I left did the wind pick up and was blowing at around 110 km/h when we took off. When I got back to Dublin I was told how shockingly cold it had been while I was away, but the day I arrived the sun was shining and we had a really mild Christmas. I think the Weather Gods are finally on my side...
Even today when I really needed the roads to be dry, I couldn't have asked for better (not at this time of year, anyway). My prayers were answered and I now have my full bike driving license.
(Hooray for me!!!)
I'll try keep the blizzards at bay a bit longer, 'kay?

Oops, I did it again...
Speaking of driving tests; I booked last May to take the test, thinking it would be a clever idea to do the thing sometime over the Summer months. Who knew there would be a 6-month waiting list?! (The website said 10 weeks; I think I can be forgiven for my naivety)
The day before I went to SA, I had a lesson with a driving instructor - not to learn how to ride the bike, but to learn about the things the testers would want to see on the day. Like spending more time looking in mirrors and over my shoulders than in front of me, and keeping my right foot up off the ground, on the rear brake pedal, when at a stop (and praying at the same time there aren't any strong crosswinds about, no doubt). And that they would ask me to do a U-turn. What I learnt that day was that although I have no problem turning sharply to the left, the U-turn in question would be to the right, and that I wasn't so very strong at...
So after Christmas I took the cover off the bike to go practise my U-turns, only to find I'd ridden over a nail and the tyre was flat. Ever tried getting a new bike tyre over the Christmas season? It's somewhat like trying to find snowballs on the beach in South Africa at that time of year.
Nonetheless, we finally got a new tyre fitted on Saturday morning, leaving me the weekend to practise my U-turns. I did so in the parking lot at the local train station. That was when I dropped the bike for the first time since I started riding about 2 years ago. I almost dislocated my body from itself trying to lift the poor machine off its side, before finally admitting my limitations and calling Hubby to help.
The bike was OK (it had been going really slowly when it fell) and I continued my practising until my Prince Charming told me I was doing fine and would have no problem in the test.
That was Today's test, on the way to which I thought I would quickly practise just one more U-turn. And I promptly overbalanced again, this time with the bike ending up in the middle of a busy road with no Hubby around for miles.
But within seconds a kind young man stopped and helped me pick it up, and then I had to go directly to the Testing Centre. Um, no nerves at all, really.
The good news is that the U-turn went fine in the actual test; the Universe must've been smiling on me again :-)
And the bike is still fine.
And don't panic; it's my 'old' bike I was on, not the new one. Perhaps it was acting up because it knows it's been replaced by the Baby Bird. I haven't shown you a side view of it yet, have I? It was hard to get a good angle while it was still in my kitchen!

Best of the Worst
The worst part about flying home to SA is, well, flying home to SA. There were no direct flights this time, so I went via Paris on the way there, and via Amsterdam on the way back. On the long leg going there I managed to get an aisle seat, which was OK because at least I didn't have to clamber over people to get to the bog.
Coming back there were no aisle seats available, and no window seats. I feared the worst but was pleasantly surprised to see a young, slim woman on either side of me. It could've been worse... and it very nearly was when the young lady on the aisle seat, to my right, was switched with a woman so large she couldn't fit in her own seat in the front row because the armrest was fixed. As she spilled over onto my seat I decided that this was one occasion I was prepared to be That Passenger; you know, the one who bitches & moans until she gets moved. As it turned out, all that was required was a mild - and not even remotely rude - objection. Next thing I knew I was across the aisle, not only in an aisle seat but in the front row, with all the leg room I could have wanted, and more! My companion was a young Ukranian girl, a delightful slip of a thing with whom I became friends for a few hours as we flew 10,000km around the globe and then wandered the maze of Schipol airport looking for the smoking area.
(There is one, by the way, but it's so small and horrible I wouldn't recommend it. Just so you know.)
I even managed to get some sleep on the 'plane and had enough energy and wakefulness in my body to squeeze in a spot of airport shopping before boarding the flight back to Dublin.
(I think the Marijuana-patterned boxer shorts I bought for Hubby may have seemed a tad less generous than the motorcycle parked in the kitchen, for me, from him, but how was I to know?!!)

And on a final, totally unconnected note...
There's a book called "PS I Love You", written by Cecelia Ahern. When it was released it went straight onto the Bestsellers list. I specifically didn't buy it because the author is the daughter of the former Taoiseach (Irish Prime Minister). I like books to earn their spot on their own worth, not because the author's daddy is Top Dog in the country. I figured I'd wait until I found someone else who had a copy, and borrow it, instead, to see if it was worth all the hype.
Well I have yet to read the book but on Sunday night I watched the movie on TV.
Yes, this is a movie review of sorts.
And what I have to say is that it was a really, really good movie. The story was heart-rending, the performances real (although one of the Irish accents sounded a bit iffy to me). But most of all, do NOT attempt to watch this movie without a box of Kleenex handy. I bawled my eyes out on a number of occasions (and it was quite tricky putting them back in, I'll tellya!)(mwahahahaha!).
Anyway, as far as I'm concerned any movie that moves me from tears to laughter and back again a few times in the space of 90 minutes (I'm guessing) is a good movie, because isn't that what it's all about? Hooking in the audience and having them feel what the characters feel?
But I did have a very strong urge to watch some sitcoms afterwards.

OK that wasn't the final note, this is:
Because that last bit just didn't feel like an ending, y'know?
So here's a better one for you:

May you all have enough random goodness and oddness in your lives to keep you happy and interested in 2009.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

how to increase the value of your shares with your loved one

2008-12-26T10:52:00.005Z

It's not every day a girl comes home to find a Christmas present like this waiting for her in the kitchen:

After a 20-hour trip getting home to Dublin from SA I was, to say the least, quite surprised to find Santa had delivered early.

Years ago, long before I ever thought I would learn to ride, I sat on one of these - a CBR600 belonging a friend of ours. I clearly remember saying that if I ever learned to ride I would want one like this. A few weeks ago our neighbour turned up with one, and I took it for a ride and fell in love with it.
It turns out that while I was away, Hubby was busy wheeling & dealing to buy this bike from our neighbour and between them they managed to get it into my kitchen where Hubby cleaned it till it shone, then got a big red bow to stick on the windshield and a note that says:

"MERRY XMAS TERRI! XXX"

I'm a Very Spoilt Lady!!!!

the weird and the wonderful

2008-12-21T16:42:00.008Z

PORT ELIZABETH - MY HOME TOWN

My week is almost up; tomorrow I head back home to Ireland. Strangely, it feels like I've been here much longer than I actually have, probably because I've done quite a lot this week - nothing constructive, mind you, just being a little social butterfly :-)

I've had a wonderful time.

I went shopping on Friday with my 2 best friends. They hadn't really spent time together before 'cos of not living in the same city and all so it was quite strange for me to have both of them with me for the afternoon. Strange, but in a very good way; I felt quite privileged.

Yesterday morning I went to the beach and had a swim in the sea (well, not so much 'swim' as get wet up to the hips then sploosh water on myself 'cos I'm a bit of a wuss when it comes to waves!)... by 10:30 am I was hiding under a giant sarong though; how is it that I used to be able to spend a whole day in the sun as a kid but now I feel like I'm being BBQ'd after 45 minutes?!

Last night I got some of my old gang of friends together at a pub. It was just like old times - except now the conversation was more about kids & families than bikes & partying, and I was home just after 11pm, ready to hit the sack. (Last of the wild party-people - Not!!!)

I miss my Hubby an awful lot though and I'm kind of ready to go back to the cold now so I can be with him. Only 2 more sleeps to go... and one of those will be on an aeroplane

When will someone invent a magic transporter that can move us from one side of the planet to the other without the discomfort of sitting in cattle-class in a giant metal tube, bashing our knees on the seat back in front of us and trying to ignore the smelly stranger next to us who is snoring in our ear? And if anyone mentions Premium Economy, Business Class or First Class I'm going to smack them on the head because paying 3 times the price for a ticket is NOT an option - and I would still have to sit on me bum for 10 hours at a stretch and end up with feet & ankles that won't fit into my shoes for 3 days afterwards!

But I digress.

And now I've forgotten where I was heading.

So I'll leave you with a second picture instead.

SHARK ROCK PIER

from one extreme to the other

2008-12-17T18:00:00.000Z

It's mildly disturbing to board an aeroplane in a climate of an icy 0 degrees Celsius, and emerge several hours later on the other side of the planet where it's 27 degrees warmer.

Very mildly disturbing.

Mostly, though, it's fan-bloody-tastic!!!

That's right, Chickens, I packed in the Irish winter and am typing this from a brilliantly sunny and warm Port Elizabeth in South Africa.

I left poor Hubby behind this time. I hear our neighbours are taking good care of him, making sure he eats a meal occasionally and such like. It's weird being here without him - sort of like I have a limb missing. But by this time next week I'll be back in the Big Freeze that is Dublin, and safe in the arms of my other half again, because this is a short visit... no long leisurely holidays at my disposal. I wanted to be back in time to spend Christmas with Hubby and my sister-in-law in Ireland.

So for one week only I finally get to wear my strappy dresses & open sandals (the ones that have been gathering dust in my wardrobe for the past 2 years because Summer appears to have forgotten Ireland completely).

I went shopping with my mom yesterday and lunched with my friend the day before. Today I lunched again, with my other friend, in the neighbourhood I grew up in, under an awning to protect my lily-white Northern hemisphere skin from the hungry African sun.
I'm taking it easy and catching up with my Girls, refuelling my soul with the sights and sounds of the place I come from.

In fact this trip is kind of like a pit stop... I guess you could call it a service for my psyche :-)

A touch of frost

2008-12-02T20:35:00.006Z

Let's talk about the weather for a change.

That's a joke - anyone who has spent any amount of time in Ireland will know this; talking about the weather is something of a national pastime here. Well, perhaps not so much talking as moaning about it. It's either too cold, too wet, or occasionally (once every 7 years or so) too hot.
Although it should be noted that I, personally, have never complained about this place being too hot.

But it's winter now, and last Saturday Hubby and I went out around midday to do some shopping. 30 Metres down the road I made him turn back so I could get my camera. You just don't see frost and fog like this in South Africa.

So these are for you folks who are complaining about the heat back home...

The first clue: Frozen flowers outside my front door

The not-so-green grass of home

Some of you may recognize Malahide Castle

Ducks getting themselves in a row... I'm guessing they've figured out the time has come to head South!

A cold and lonely crow

I didn't get any photos of the fog around our place; there wouldn't have been much to see in a photo except white noise, after all. But here is the midday sun:

So, which hemisphere would you rather be in right now...?

only the nose knows

2008-11-26T18:58:00.002Z

It's late and I have almost the entire wing of our office to myself. Daylight is but a distant memory and I only have the hum of the air conditioning for comfort. I am waiting patiently (?!) for something to finish running on my PC so I can go home.
Despite the fact that it is very much Winter here now, the windows are open and an icy breeze is whispering in from the blackness outside. I have my long woollen coat wrapped around from my waist to my feet, and a pashmina (or shawl, for those of you men who still don't know what a Pashmina is) blanketing my upper body to fend off the chill.

Yes, it's uncomfortable, but will I close the windows?
Not a chance!

You see, there appears to be a plumbing problem nearby and the maintenance guy has been 'fixing' it for 2 days now. The floor is ripped up and the area is cordonned off like a crime scene. A grimy lake lies beneath the open floorboards and every time the dude does one of those mysterious things that plumber-type people do, it seems to release a cloud of gases that stink in a very similar manner to the way sulphur stinks.
And all of this is about 6 feet away from my desk.
Delightful.

... and all of a sudden in a freakish turn of events, the thing I was waiting for has finished running on my PC...
I'm outta here....!!!!!!

ask a stupid question...

2008-11-17T13:20:00.002Z

I went for a short walk in my lunch hour today, and was stopped in the street by a couple of people from a local radio station. They were asking people if they thought it was possible for women to balance a career and family.
Oh the pressure! I was like a deer caught in headlights. Say something intelligent, woman!!!
I'm sure they picked me because I looked like a professional woman, (not THAT sort of profession!) attired as I was in my black wool coat and matching hat - the only other people on the street were men and a shabby-looking bag-lady so I guess I was the obvious choice given the question. I managed to come up with something that sounded reasonably intelligent, and then the guy stuck a microphone under my nose and asked if I would mind repeating what I had just said.
How the hell should I remember what I had just said???! The trouble is I don't really have an opinion on the subject so it was really hard to try and recreate the bullshit I had just finished burbling. Urgh, I felt like I was brain-dead.

In hindsight, what I should have said was this:
Of course it's possible - millions of women the world over do it every day. We kind of have to, if we want to have a house, and food on the table. But it's not ideal, at least for most. I think it's a case of priorities. Some women are committed to serious careers - and in that case I would guess that their family life would suffer, at some point, especially if they work long hours on a regular basis. Sure you can hire a nanny or whatever but you would end up spending time at work that otherwise would be spent with your family.
On the other side there are women who work only because they have to, and all their energy is focussed on their family. Those women are unlikely to be high-powered corporate types because given the choice they would sacrifice work to be with their family instead.

But anyway, I think it's a tired and irrelevant question.
Perhaps a better one would have been something along the lines of, "How difficult is it for a woman to have both a career and a family, and still maintain her sanity and identity?"
I'm sure they'd end up with much more interesting answers.

beware the dreaded lurgy!

2008-11-01T15:40:00.003Z

I am surrounded. They're all out to get me, I swear.

I avoided it at work, but then it started with my stepson, spread to my husband, and now my stepdaughter has succumbed too.
They're sniffling, sneezing, coughing and making those yucky noises particular to those afflicted with colds & flu.
Nice.

And they've taken over the house, let me tell you. Right now 2 of them are in the lounge, all nice & cozy in front of a crackling fire, snuggled up in soft blankets, one on each couch. I was tempted to join them but it feels like I'm under attack by a viral army when I'm in there.
I would retreat to my bedroom but Hubby has been sleeping off the sickness there for most of the day and I just know there are some horrible little germs hanging around in there, waiting to pounce on me as soon as I settle on the bed.

So I am banished to the kitchen / diningroom, which was fine by me this morning when the sun was in the Eastern sky and filling this side of the house with glorious warmth. Now, though, it has moved over and the November cold is creeping back out of it's hiding places, shimmering up through the tiled floors and gradually reclaiming me, feet first.
Oh well, at least I have a radio in here, right?
(Yeah, I know, kudos to me for looking on the bright side.)

So here I sit and if anyone is interested in hearing my thoughts today, that's easy:

I am strong and healthy; I am strong and healthy; I am strong and healthy...

After all, it's never too late to try this Mantra thing, is it?!

rejuvination for girls 101

2008-10-24T20:25:00.000+01:00

I have started writing this post 3 times now. Each incarnation has been discarded; too obscure, too flippant, too serious, too boring... whatever happened to writing from the heart, the words falling out of my head onto the page without check?
Oh never mind; it's complicated.

Instead, let me tell you about last weekend.
Last Friday evening I flew to London to spend a couple of days with my sister. We sat up until after 4am talking - in itself, is not terribly surprising. What was a little unusual was the puny quantity of alcohol we consumed. In all that time we only got through 1 bottle of sparkling wine.
(We won't get into how many cups of coffee / glasses of water/OJ we went through.)
Will men ever understand women's ability to stay up all night talking..?

After brunch on Saturday we took the Tube to Covent Garden, and there we had lunch with an old friend of mine. Dee and I were best friends in high school and I hadn't seen her for something like 9 years - not since our 10-year high school reunion.
(We will ignore for now that next year will be 20 years since I left school, 'kay?!)
We sort of lost touch, until earlier this year when she - now living in London - realised I live in Ireland. A couple of phone calls and emails later and there we were, sipping Earl Grey tea (me) and Cuppacinos (Dee) in Covent Garden.
(I forget what Li'l Sis had to drink - possibly one of each - but I do recall a definite sugar rush because she just couldn't turn down a piece of tart..!)
Well it was as if we do this every week. The conversation flowed easily and sincerely and continued to do so until about 10pm. At some point, when it started getting a bit nippy outdoors, we walked a few blocks to a South African pub - "the Bok" - and there we found a table to sit at in one corner. The yakking continued uninterrupted, and I dare say if it wasn't for the fact that Dee had a long-ish train trip to get back home to her family, the evening might well have progressed in a very different vein, for at some point it was as if we were replaced by our 17-year-old selves, laughing and gossiping in that way girls of that age do, and enjoying that very special bond we have with our friends at that age. No doubt the reminiscing about what we used to get up to helped!

As it was, when the time came we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. Li'l Sis and I proceeded to mimic our previous evening, only this time we stayed up 'till 5am, talking.
What didi we talk about?
None of your business ;-)

By the time we managed to leave the flat on Sunday it was already 4pm so breakfast was out of the question. A good solid steak, chips & salad at a place down the road sorted us out just nicely, and then it was time for me to return home, rejuvinated, unburdened and a little bit more like the Me I used to be all those years ago.
I'm beginning to think it should be compulsory for all women to meet up with old school friends on a regular basis. It's really good for the soul.

my friend says this reminds her of me

2008-10-23T20:12:00.002+01:00

It's been doing the rounds & I hope I'm not infringing on any copyrights here, but I love this one!!!

I don't know if they did but it sounds like something 'They' would say

2008-10-12T16:41:00.005+01:00

They say a bit of hard work never killed anyone.
While I'm sure some of the poor souls buried in the Great Wall of China might disagree, I suppose it's hard to argue when one is encased in that much concrete.
The point is, though, that it hasn't killed me yet - too much hard work, that is, not the Great Wall of China. I haven't been to see it yet, come to think of it I must remember to put that on my List of Things to Do before I Die... which hopefully won't be from too much hard work.

What my recent bout of long working hours has done, apart from score me a bunch of overtime pay*, is kill my creativity - or at least force it into hibernation. So in the absence of creative writing, I would like to share my opinion on the current state of the world.

(I hope the world is ready for this!)

Here's the thing: I would like to send everyone a copy of The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. And I don't mean the book written by Douglas Adams, brilliant though it was. No, I'm talking about the actual guide - the one that has the words "DON'T PANIC" on the front in big flashing letters.
Because here are the facts as I see them:
Yes, share prices are down... now I know that this was all started off by some people making bad decisions and losing actual money but let's face it, the more people panic, the worse the situation is going to get. Surely people realise that some point things have to stablilise? We need the banks, and the banks need each other, and the banks need us, so the sooner everyone just stops panicking the sooner the sky will stop falling on our heads and yes, children, things will begin to climb back up again. It's the nature of the beast. We (meaning the population of the world) need to remember that the stock markets are NOT a living organism with a mind of it's own. The source of it all is people. So if the people stop to take a breath and look beyond their noses, things will start to get better again.

I overheard someone say that they have lost a bunch of money in shares. Bullshit. I know for a fact that this person has owned these shares for a few years now. These particular shares are now worth around about what they were bought for all those years ago. So unless the share prices continue to drop and this person then decides to sell them (which would be really dumb, in my opinion), they have lost nothing. They still have the shares. The market will stabilise. The share price will climb again and then they will be back to having made some money.

See how simple it is?

So let us all do us all a favour:

DON'T PANIC!!!

Spread the word. The sooner the better.

~T

* What, you think I do it for the love of the job??!

i wanna go home!

2008-09-27T23:03:00.003+01:00

It's 11pm on a Saturday night and I wanna go home.

Where am I, if not home, you ask?
Work.

I'm in the miserable, broken-aircon, smells-like-old-pizza office. Last night I was here 'till midnight. And tomorrow - Sunday - well, I don't even want to hazard a guess at this stage.

I really hope you're having a better weekend than I am.

off (with) the top of my head

2008-09-21T18:14:00.004+01:00

It's finally happened. They said it would but I had my doubts. I mean, there was no proof that it could, and after all this time who could blame me for not believing that it ever would?
But it did.
Yes, folks: we have had two full days of actual Summer weather (despite the fact that we're well into Autumn!).

And I'm not just talking two days without rain, or two days of sunshine where it looks all warm out there but it's actually too cold to leave the house without a coat.
No, this is the genuine thing. Bright sunshine, blue skies and temperatures over 20 degrees - I have worn a T-shirt and open shoes, for goodness' sake!!!

I actually had plans to pack my summer clothes away and haul out all the heavy woollens again this weekend. I had given up all hope of needing short sleeves until next year again. But now that will wait for at least another week.
It was bewildering, really - we've been waiting for weather like this for what, two years now? What to do, what to do, when it finally arrives? Do we BBQ? Go to the beach? Go ride our bikes? Go walking? So many choices...!

So I did what any practical person would do: I sat in it.

It seemed a waste to dash around like a mad person so instead I simply sat out in the back yard and gathered all the photons I could until my headache drove me inside and into a comatose sleep... because of course the Universe would conspire for me to be hit with the worst migraine I've had in months on the best weather weekend of the last two years.

Which explains why my first post in two weeks is about the weather: I haven't the mental energy to be any more creative.
And also why the title has absolutely nothing to do with the post: I'm on some serious painkillers here, Dudes, so my train of thought is somewhat derailed, hehe!

Tellya what, though; the garden is loving the sunshine too.

Long may it last ....

running with the dogs

2008-09-05T21:39:00.000+01:00

I was going to tell you about my summer: about the stream of houseguests we've had over last 2 months - father-in-law, mother, nephew, friends, friends' kids - about how our little house has been like the hotel next to Grand Central Station... but I decided not to.

I could bitch & moan about the weather we've had, the flooded roads, the laundry that takes 4 days to dry because of the humidity levels... but I won't.

Instead I'm going to tell you about the really good day I had last Saturday on The Big Dogs Breakfast Run.
We left the house around 9am, Hubby and Cinderella on his Blackbird and me on my pride and joy, the GS500. And let's not forget our neighbours - we've become good mates since The Midnight Incident a few months back, due in no small part to our shared love of motorcycles. By 10am we had been joined by another 4 bikes and were heading off into the mountains just south of Dublin.
(Not mountains like you'd find in Switzerland, mind you; more like large hills - but the Irish get upset if you refer to their mountains as hills.)

I'll spare you the clichéd twisty-mountain-hugging-roads descriptions; suffice it to say the scenery was really pretty during the moments it wasn't obscured by mist or rain and some of the roads were great for biking. Bikers do love bends, after all. Of course, some of the roads were not so great - there was the freshly tarred bit, only it wasn't so much tar as loose gravel that caused the bike's ass to fishtail at will... needless to say I rode rather gingerly and slowly over that, not caring if I caused a traffic jam. Which it turned out I didn't really - the other guys were just as skittish over the loose stuff.
And then there was the really bumpy bit coming down a very steep and very wet road; that was quite hard going and my arms were done for by the time we reached a gentler surface.

But these were only a small part of the 230km ride we did that day^[1]. The rest was HUGE fun! And here's the thing: it was the first time I'd done a breakfast run under my own steam. Previously I've always ridden pillion with Hubby. And may I also add here that the other guys were all on much bigger, faster bikes than mine - I may not have been able to catch them on the motorway but I more than held my own on the smaller mountain roads. I was proud. Hubby was proud. Even our neighbour was proud ;-)
It's kinda funny really - this run was instigated by Hubby and he christened it THE BIG DOGS BREAKFAST RUN in honour of one of his favourite sayings: If you want to run with the big dogs, don't pee like a puppy.
(Yeah, I know, he's real poetic!)

What can I say?

WOOF!

^[1]BTW... when last did you travel 230km for breakfast..?!

The island with two names

2008-07-27T15:55:00.005+01:00

This is my 4th attempt at telling you about our Greek island holiday in May. So what if it took me having a week off to recover from surgery to get the thing finished? The point is it's here. And it's long. You might want to get comfortable for this...

It was only the second week of the Summer season when we flew to Zakynthos... or Zante. Take your pick; both names apply. After a week on the island I was still confused; everything there seems to have an alternative name!
We landed on a Saturday evening and the place seemed deserted, from the shiny new mini-airport to the dusty streets outside. Arriving at our apartment complex in the town of Laganas (a.k.a. Lagana) did nothing to dispel that first impression. The bar was closed and the only person in sight was a guest who had been there a week. She kindly pointed out that the keys were in the doors and our room numbers were penned on our Welcome Packs, saving the small group of travellers that we were from spending the night on sun-loungers surrounding the swimming pool, under the stars. Only not stars really, since shortly after our arrival it rained, in the way that monsoons rain.

Happily, by that stage, we had settled in and headed out again and Hubby and I were comfortably ensconced at a bar just down the road. The further down the road we looked, the more obvious it became that Zakynthos was, in fact, not closed; it was just a bit early in the season and the unwashed masses had not yet arrived.
That would happen in a week or two.

Our plan of having a quiet drink that first evening drowned in a cauldron of beer, Sambuca and Gin. I had forgotten the way of the Greek Islands - whenever you buy food or drink, you get something back for free, i.e. buy a beer, get a free Sambuca. We had a great evening, befriending the young lady from Liverpool who ran the place. She was more than generous with her servings and when it was time to close the pub she had us join her two doors down in the night club run by her brother. I didn't do so much clubbing as sitting on a bar stool, yakking my head off with with the British ex-pats about what it was like living there. I was doing research, you see, for a book I was writing. OK so I haven't actually started writing it yet, but it's amazing how much people will tell you when they think they're going to be a character in a novel!
(And I really do intend writing something set in the Greek islands, I promise; I cannot lie to people!)

I have no idea what time we stumbled back to our apartment; I do recall being really glad we hadn't gone further down "The Strip" than we did.

I thought "The Strip" was a good name for the street we were on. It ran about a kilometer further from where our apartment was and ended on a beach that stretched for miles in both directions. We walked that street the next day - slowly, and stopping often for refreshment in deference to our hangovers. There was no shortage of places to eat and drink. Night clubs, bars, restaurants and fast-food joints jostled each other for position. Dotted in-between were clothing and curio shops, selling all the things that tourists love to buy - beach wear, sun lotions, insect repellents and trinkets made of shells. Not to mention jewellery, which is really reasonably priced in the Greek islands.

It probably should have taken us 15 minutes to walk to the beach. It took us half a day. We weren't in a terrible hurry since the previous night's rain had left behind a low ceiling of cloud so sunbathing wasn't really an option.

ONE END OF LAGANAS BAY

Once we got there, it took us the rest of the day to walk back the way we had come, stopping along the way to indulge in some KFC - great hangover food, indeed!

By dinner-time we were feeling human again and I was in the mood for some Greek food, which I love. The restaurant we chose did not disappoint. I gorged on Tzatziki and garlic prawns while watching the passers-by through the open shop-front. Surprisingly, considering the previous night's over-indulgence, I even enjoyed the wine, although I didn't have enough of that to mask the discomfort of my lumpy pillow that night. Well, we wanted a cheap holiday and I guess you get what you pay for!

The next morning we finally got the sunshine we had been waiting for, so we rented a 650cc Yamaha for the day and set off in search of adventure. The island is small enough that you can ride all the way around in a day, stopping along the way to see the sights. The bike rental place - one of dozens - supplied a map with a number of different suggested routes, depending on how long you wanted to be on the road.

Our first stop was the Damianos caves, set into the side of a mountain and reached by twisty roads through some old, run-down villages. Evidence of the last earthquake on the island, in 1953, was obvious by the many ruined buildings that were never rebuilt. The caves were, well, holes in the side of a mountain, really. The jury is out on whether they were worth the short hike to see them.
From the caves we followed the narrow road through vineyards, olive groves and stone walls to the bluest water on the planet at a place called Porto Limnionas.

There we sat on the mountainside and laughed - some people were filming what we presumed was a music video down in the cove; two men wearing bright pink suits were singing, accompanied by a guy on a trumpet, another with a guitar and a third with a tambourine. A handful of models were dancing and whooping and generally going berserk in front of the makeshift stage. Meanwhile we couldn't hear any actual music! It was really funny to watch the fake revelry going on in this beautiful place.

BLUEST WATER ON THE PLANET? YOU DECIDE.

Our mirth soon dissipated when we climbed back up to the restaurant above, only to find that said film crew had commandeered the entire inside of the place; duffel bags, clothes and various props were strewn across the tables, chairs and floors, forcing us to go elsewhere in search of lunch. You see, one can't just eat at any old place when in the Greek islands; one has to find a place with a view, or ambiance, or something special. Mealtimes are an experience. Being surrounded by skinny peoples' bikini tops was not the sort of ambiance I had in mind.

As it turned out, the Universe was conspiring with us for a change, that day. The Yamaha blasted effortlessly back up the steep, twisting road we had travelled and bore us quickly to the next stop on the map: The town of Exo Hora (or Exo Chora, whichever strikes your fancy!).
It appeared to be little more than a junction with a few houses; it's claim to fame was the oldest Olive tree on the island, at somewhere around 2000 years of age.

It turned out to be so much more. Opposite the tree (which actually had to be pointed out to me, believe it or not!) was a square containing the Taverna Cafe Bar "Dafnes" where the tomato and cucumber in the Greek salad exploded with freshness and flavour, the feta cheese made my mouth water for more and the effect was so good I was even tempted into eating a couple of the olives. (As it happens I still don't like them, but you get the picture.) Our 'meal freebie' turned out to be freshly sliced apple sprinkled with cinnamon, one of those perfect taste combinations - like bacon and egg, or coffee and chocolate.

Birds tweeted in every surrounding tree, Greek music played out of the café and only the odd tourist car or bike passed on the road, and as I sipped the thick, bitter Greek coffee after my meal a sense of calm and happiness enveloped me. I had found a place of peace.

Our bellies full and our souls rested, we set off once again on our journey of exploration. The roads were perfect - or rather, the bike we were on was perfectly suited to the roads. The engine burbled effortlessly as we practiced our motorized dance, leaning left and right as we dove between olive groves, cypress trees and stone walls, negotiating the bends with care and gleefully accelerating on the occasional straight. Warmly pressed up against my husband's back on a motorcycle as we adventured through the unknown made me about as happy as I can get.

The directions on the map became a little hazy at this point but we managed to stop off to investigate at least one of the old monasteries mentioned before finding our way to a viewing point atop a cliff overlooking The Shipwreck. So determined was I to get a photograph of the shipwreck on the beach about 300m below that I forgot about my heights 'thing' and stepped out purposefully onto the little metal platform to get the best view. It was little more than a gangplank with a handrail and I had only taken 3 steps when my mind and body almost parted company, one of them saying, "You're perfectly safe," and the other, "Aaargh!!!! I'm going to fall down there and die!!!"
Fortunately, whichever of the two was talking sense won out, saving me from utter panic and embarrassment before the bus load of German tourists who were all queued in an orderly fashion to take their turn at getting the same photograph I managed to take.

SHIPWRECK BEACH

I like to think the effort was worth it.

By 4pm the wind had picked up and we still had a long way to go. Dave was also a bit concerned about the petrol situation. The pumps in Laganas were dry, bearing paper signs reading "No Petrol. Strike On."
So instead of travelling the entire length of Zakynthos, we cut across the traversing mountain range. It turned out the Universe was still on our side for there, in the middle of nowhere, we happened upon a large gas station that had plenty of petrol - probably due to the lack of passing traffic! With the tank full we relaxed a bit and continued Eastwards through the endless miles of olive groves and the national park, loving the bendy bits that seemed designed purely for motorcyclists' enjoyment.

We were relieved to find it was warmer and less windy on the other side of the mountains. Having set out in warm sunshine that morning, we were wearing only light clothing, most unsuited for the stormy weather that was starting to brew along the West coast. Small villages and yet more olive groves flashed by, until at last we reached Zakynthos town (a.k.a. Zante. Why??!) Civilized sign-postage escorted us to the port, a small bay with a serene surface, where two large ferries and a couple of boats lay obediently at their moorings.

PORT AT ZAKYNTHOS

We rode almost to the end of the road and parked the bike. It seemed a long time since lunch. Vines crept up wooden posts and formed a roof overhead, casting a deep shadow on the slightly faded green and white checked tablecloths. A teenager with a shy smile brought our iced coffees and food: Gyros for Dave and hot apple pie with cream and ice cream for me.
Yum.
Yum.
Yum!

The fading light forced us back onto the bike and we set off back towards Laganas, detouring through Kalamaki to check out the beach there.
We never did get to see that beach. No sooner had we passed the point of no return than enormous drops of rain began to thwack! on our helmets. We abandoned the beach idea and found the turnoff to Laganas, making a mad dash along the long, straight road that joins the two resorts. Massive gusting wind stung us with sand as we raced the purple-grey sky that had appeared over the sea. Big, heavy drops started to pelt us as we returned the bike to the rental place and walked back to the apartment; we made it indoors just as the monsoon-style rain swept over our holiday once again.

The next two days were non-days. We did some shopping up and down the strip, in between rain showers, and spent some time on sun loungers next to the pool, where we made friends with a British couple staying in the apartment two doors down.
We had one particularly good meal at a restaurant called Sirocco. There was entertainment, too - we watched with amusement a couple across the road who were having an argument. We couldn't hear what they were saying over the music pumping from "Bar Code" but their body language said it all; she in a peacock blue bubble dress, blonde hair coiffed, one arm in a sling and her nose in the air as he apologised profusely and continuously for all he was worth. She was having none of it. Talk about high maintenance..!

We had booked another excursion for our last full day on the island and the Universe was once again our friend as we awoke to clear blue skies, at last. The sun was doing its best to devour the last of the night-time chill as we boarded a bus to Zakynthos port, where we were shepherded aboard a triple-decker tourist boat with, it was rumoured, a swimming pool on board. It took a full day to circumnavigate the island. It wasn't exactly a luxury cruise; we were packed like sardines onto rows of plastic seats but you know what? It was a great day, by the end of which we had formed a cameraderie with the people around us; the salt-of-the-earth middle-aged English couple, the couple from Eastern Europe somewhere (they were really wrapped up in each other and didn't actually speak to anyone else so their origin was something of a guess), the Irish family whose kids were naughty but completely lovable and the elderly couple opposite who reminded Dave and I of what we might look like a few decades from now.

I took dozens of photographs that day - there were just so many beautiful photos to take!

This proved reasonably difficult from a moving boat because really, a beautiful photograph is probably 85% viewpoint and it's difficult to maintain a viewpoint when moving and rocking.

We stopped a few times; twice for a swim in the cool blue water. The first swimming stop was at Shipwreck Beach, 300m below the site of my near-death experience (You call it exaggeration, I call it creative license!)

YEP, I STOOD AT THE EDGE OF THAT CLIFF TO GET THE OTHER PICTURE!

The golden sand and unbelievably blue water looked idyllic. Up close it was a different story; the water was freezing and the beach was made up of trillions of tiny pebbles that took great pleasure in prodding and poking the underneath of my feet in a manner that caused me to walk like I was balancing on a tightrope. Not my most elegant moment, but worth every stab of pain, when I eventually found a comfortable spot on my towel on the beach. The beach was deserted when we arrived, and within a few minutes our boat, and one other, had unloaded its passengers and there was barely enough room for everyone. Half an hour later we were back on board and the beach was once again pristine; I was most amused at this periodic human flooding of the beach!

We motored around, just off the coast, gawping at the many caves and how the landscape changed from one side of the island to another.

The captain took us in to see one or two of the deeper coves and then actually took us inside one of the larger caves.

(The picture is of the other boat doing the same thing - ours was roughly the same size & shape but obviously much cooler!)

We tried looking for turtles but it was still a little early on in the season. It seems the turtles know the water is still too cold there at that time of year, unlike unsuspecting tourists from Ireland.

It was a beautiful day all around; there's something terribly calming about being on the water in the sunshine and seeing so much beauty. Despite the long day we were well up for a meal out with our friends from the apartments, and after yet another mouthwatering Greek meal (can't get enough of that Tzatziki!) we all went clubbing. I may have looked like an old, floppy granny compared to the skinny young bodies that were dancing for shots on the bar counter but I didn't care. I'm sure if my step-children had been there they would have, but as it was I shook my bones and made like I was a teenager again!

Because that's what Laganas is about; it's like one big nightclub, a place of loud music, drink and debauchery at the southern end of what is otherwise a sleepy, ancient and beautiful Greek island.

Aah.... so the island with two names appears to have a split personality.
I get it now.

Terri the Toothless Wonder

2008-07-22T11:37:00.004+01:00

I had been dreading yesterday for the past two weeks, ever since a visit to the dentist resulted in a visit to an Oral Surgeon who promptly declared there was nothing for it but to remove a pesky wisdom tooth from my jaw.
Say whaaaaat...??!!!!

So yesterday morning, just after the crack of dawn (because dawn cracks quite early here at this time of year), Hubby drove me across town to the hospital. It is a very nice hospital, actually, one I was extremely glad my medical insurance was paying for, removing the need for us to re-mortgage the house.
I was, quite frankly, terrified. Not so much for the pain that was sure to follow - I had my tonsils out at age 18 and that hurt like hell and I was sort of expecting that sort of thing again.
No, what scared me the most was going under general anaesthetic. I'm not sure why, exactly, as I've been there twice before and without any nasty side-effects. I think perhaps it's a control-freak's nightmare; giving over control of your state of mind to someone you've actually never met before. Or that's what Freud would say, I'm sure.

Nonetheless, I went under the knife and awoke from a beautiful sleep in a comfortable bed with kind-looking nurses fussing around and bringing me yoghurt and apple juice. A girl could get used to that sort of service. Although to be fair to Hubby, he has been looking after me really well - he was terribly concerned about me and has been very good about making sure I'm comfortable and following doctors' orders, i.e. Don't forget to take the antibiotics and Do remember to wash your mouth out with hot salty water.
Gross, but OK if you insist...

The biggest bonus about all of this is that I've been booked off work for a week. So I don't care if I look like I'm smuggling a golf ball in my jaw, or that I sound like a pissed Sylvester Stallone when I talk - I get a whole week of rest :-)
Of course if I thought I'd get anything constructive done this week I was mistaken; The happy fog from the anaesthetic yesterday has been replaced by a dozy fog from the painkillers; although quite honestly this isn't anywhere near as sore as it was when my tonsils removed!

Plus, I got flowers and a get-well balloon and chocolates and a teddy bear from my friend so really, this whole thing is going much better than I could have hoped.

So this is how it is for people who don't blog?

2008-06-28T19:39:00.004+01:00

Helloooo....?
Is anyone still there.....?

It's finally happened. Real life has taken all my attention and I've almost forgotten how to blog. I'm tired of stressing about my lack of writing and blogging time and given in.
I'm here now, and that's gotta count for something, right?

So what, you may ask, has been keeping me so very busy that I've deserted my cyberfriends?

Well my bestest shopping buddy in the world came to visit a few weekends back and we shopped for 3 days solid (or was it 4? Felt like 4!). And we went to the movies and saw the ultimate chick flick: Sex in the City. And it was great!

Last weekend Hubby's sister & her brood came up and we adults went to go see Eric Clapton at Malahide Castle.
I've never been a huge Clapton fan, but Hubby really wanted to go so I bought some gumboots and went along for the ride.
... the gumboots? Oh, that's because it was p*ssing with rain. Again. Still. Eric even thanked us for not, y'know, leaving.
Anyway, I really enjoyed the concert. It wasn't one of those scream-and-shout-and-throw-your-undies-on-the-stage sort of concerts or anything; the music was just really good - high praise considering I had never heard most of it before. Except for Layla, of course. And we only got half of that 'cos the power went out. (Probably short-circuited something in the rain!)
Yep, I really enjoyed it.

This weekend I've been studying and will continue to do so - I have an exam scheduled for the 14th and I figured it was time I actually opened a book. I should be studying now but it's late and I need a break. It is weekend, after all, and I've been working really hard lately, at work. You may have noticed this in the lack of blogging I've been doing.

It's been an emotional couple of weeks, too. The one and only person I could actually call Friend at work has left the company... and the country, for that matter. We had a great old Leaving Drinks evening for her, which was fun. And then she left, and I was quite sad about the whole thing. Then again, email makes the world a smaller place and we're still in touch so it's not all bad.

What is all bad is that one of our mates here in Ireland passed away last week. We went to the Removal on Monday evening, followed by drinks till very late that night (was that the Wake? We're a little hazy on the intricacies of dying in Ireland - it seems very complicated!) and then the funeral on Tuesday morning.
That was just so, so sad. He was one of the most fun-loving people I ever met and his laugh is unforgettable. The church was packed to overflowing - there were literally people standing outside during the Mass. When it was finished, and they started to carry the coffin out, the singer sang "Fly me to the moon..." It was the saddest moment in a very long time and I'm not afraid to say I sobbed my eyes out.
Hm, I thought it was all gone but here I am, tears in my eyes again.
We do miss you, Mickey.

But sure, death is part of life and perhaps with each loss I'm finding it easier to cope with.
(What I'm trying to say is yes, I'm sad, but I'm not falling apart so any family members reading this please don't panic; I'm not on the verge of a breakdown!)

Meanwhile, I have actually started writing something about our trip to Greece. I REALLY WAS THERE! SEE, PHONE CAMERA PROVES IT!

Four times I've started writing, in fact. The last draft is about halfway through. I have yet to do anything about the photographs. It'll come, eventually, and you guys will be the first to see it.
Just, you know, don't hold your breath.

'Cos right now there's just a little bit too much going on and although the writer in me wants to fight it, real life sort of has to take precedence.

And now: Chapter 3 awaits me. "Database Storage and Schema Objects"
Betcha wish you were me now...!

Who says life in the 'burbs is dull?

2008-06-08T19:16:00.001+01:00

I went to bed later than usual last Thursday night - around 11:45pm - because I wanted to finish the book I was reading. It was hot and a bit stuffy in the bedroom and Hubby was hogging the bed. I had an involuntary muscle twitch in my eyelid and I could almost hear my Mom's voice saying, "You shouldn't be reading so late, it's what gives you eye strain."
I tossed and turned. My pillow felt too flat. A car drove past slowly, as they do outside our place. It's a cul-de-sac and there's not much space to turn or maneouvre. I didn't recognise the sound of it and almost went to peek out the window, but then decided against it.
Instead, I retrieved a second pillow from the floor and tried to find a good sleeping pose.
Was that a noise I heard, or my over-active imagination?
I breathed slowly, quietly, cursing the constant ringing I seem to have in my ears these days. How could I hear anything over that racket?
There it was again. I didn't imagine it, and I knew what it was - the chain my neighbour uses to secure his motorcycle outside his house.
I launched myself off the bed, scaring the bejezez outta my sleeping husband, and dashed to the window. Through the slats in the blinds I could see three men in hooded tops outside, two of them bent over the padlock on my neighbour's motorcycle with a bolt-cutter almost as long as I am tall, and the third having a go at the ignition with a screwdriver.

Well as you know we've had three motorcycles stolen in the last year or so, and I was not going to let them get away with this! Flinging the window open I started yelling at them,
"What the hell do you think you're doing down there. Get away!" My voice was not that of a shrill woman, but deep and enraged. If I had had a gun I would have shot them on the spot. I was still yelling when a dazed and confused husband appeared at my side to see what his mad wife was on about; he took in the situation and started yelling too. This woke up the neighbour, who we could see looking through the blinds at his front door to where the thieves were, only a few feet away from him.
I started to head downstairs, then realised I should put some clothes on so dashed back to the room to grab my bathrobe, chucking Hubby's at him at the same time. I thundered downstairs, causing my stepson to come and see what the commotion was. He was still awake, fiddling on the computer and listening to music on his MP3 player. He didn't have a clue what was going on, nor why I was growling about calling the police. I grabbed the phone and shouted, "What's the number for the police?!"
It's funny how one forgets the simple things in an intense situation like that.

The intruders had, by this stage, started backing away from the bike. Two of them ran for a car I could see parked outside, a couple of houses away, but the third guy - the one with the bolt-cutters - was hanging around still. He threw the big lock they'd cut off the bike at our window, and charged a my neighbour's door to intimidate him into staying inside. I switched on every light I could find inside while Hubby looked for his "Hit Stick" - a pick-axe handle that normally lives by the front door but which had been moved in a fit of cleaning at some stage. All I could think of was that there was someone threatening our home, and I had a 17-year old daughter sleeping upstairs. I swear, I wanted to get out there and rip their heads off; only, I couldn't find my house keys to get the door open. I was still on the phone to the police when the third guy charged our front door, ramming the bolt-cutters into the glass pane. They were trying to scare us but I would not back down, looking hard at them so they knew I knew what they looked like. I was also cursing because I couldn't find my keys to open the front door... never mind that Hubby's were right there, LOL! Like I said, when you're that charged up it seems the mind doesn't think laterally very well - I went into Mommy Bear mode in a big way and was moving on pure instinct. Thought did not enter into the equation at all.

I'm pleased to report that the double-glazed windows are really tough, so the blow just glanced off it. Just as hubby got the front door open to go after them, they got the car started - obviously by hot-wiring it - and I watched as they tore off down the street and around the corner. It was too dim for me to see the license plate but I told the cops on the phone what kind of car it was.

By this time it wasn't just myself and Hubby outside; Two more neighbours had seen what was going on (no doubt alerted by my bellowing!) and there we were, all milling around and wanting to beat the living crap out of these bastards. We rallied around the neighbour whose bike had been the target until the cops arrived a few minutes later, and we saw a second patrol car pass by, on their way to try and find the thugs in the getaway car.
They took statements and I transformed from raging madwoman back into Terri, wishing I was wearing more than a fluffy white bathrobe in the presence of what were, after all, rather nice-looking men in uniform.
I can be SUCH a girl, sometimes!

I don't know if they found the guys; probably not. But I suspect they won't come back in a hurry. They picked the wrong neighbourhood this time and for all their bluster, they were quite eager to get the hell out of Dodge!

Mind you, if I hadn't stayed up late reading "Without Remorse" they may well have gotten away with it.
So thank you, Tom Clancy :-)

weird dream

2008-06-08T09:02:00.004+01:00

I dreamt that Hubby told me this:

I was riding my motobike one day years ago with my girlfriend on the back, and I crashed it into a tree. We both stayed on and we stayed upright.
She said to me, "What do you mean?"
I was confused and said, "What are you talking about, I just tried to restart the bike."
And she said, "No, you sat there a moment, looked down at your tummy as you lifted your T-shirt and said, "I'm dead now. How d'you like my bum?"

I swear, I don't make this stuff up!!

then and now

2008-05-22T08:47:00.005+01:00

I couldn't decide what to wear last night, but in the end it didn't really matter. The evening wasn't about me, or us - it was about our kids.
Last night our little girl graduated from high school.

Not so much a little girl anymore, eh?! The trouble is, she's quite short (sorry, Sweetie, but you are!) so she still feels like a little girl when she's mooching around the house. But last night she was all dressed up and made up and suddenly she and her friends all looked like adults.

It was weird how many memories the ceremony brought back. The youngsters were so boisterous, full of heckling and clapping and wolf-whistles, and generally being rowdy 18-year-olds.
You remember being there, don't you? I know I do; like it was yesterday.

There were some lovely moments: one of the girls read a poem she wrote about this time in their lives - talented young lady, I have to say. There was a 'ceremony of light' where some lovely things were said.
And then there was the headmaster's address... the man had lots to say, I gotta tellya. Some of it was pretty insightful but I couldn't help wondering if he couldn't have said some of it during the 6 years the kids were in his school, instead of saving it until then. The audience got awfully fidgety towards the end; the kids had their certificates and they wanted to go party!

And, of course, there was the "I know you don't think so now but one day you'll back on your school days and wish you were back there, because they are the best time of your life" speech.
We all heard it.
Some of us believed it.
I didn't.
If attendance at my Valedictory Service hadn't been mandatory, I wouldn't even have gone, and when it was finished I walked out with a huge grin on my face because I was done with school.
I said then that I would never miss school, that I would never wish I was back there.
It turns out I was right.
So kids, don't believe everything your headmaster says.

Now my days at College, well that's a different story entirely...!

If anyone is looking for me...

2008-05-09T17:53:00.004+01:00

I'll be here:

I don't care that my Winter ass doesn't fit into my summer shorts anymore or that my lily-white limbs will reflect enough sunlight to speed up global warming.
I need a holiday.
I need sun.

I'll tell you all about it when I get back :-)

Be good!
xxx

'tis the season

2008-05-06T08:24:00.002+01:00

I'm pleased to announce that Winter finally appears to have relinquished its grip on us. Yep, true to form the May bank holiday weekend brought us good weather. Yesterday I even sat outside in shorts for about half an hour, trying to get a little colour on my pins before I frighten all the locals away with blinding whiteness in Greece next week.

Speaking of long weekends... did everyone enjoy theirs? You did? Fantastic :-)

On Saturday I took Cinderella shopping in town, to find something for her to wear to her high school Graduation in a few weeks. It was a long and tiring process but successful. We found a striking little red number that I'm sure Hubby thinks is waaay too hot for a Graduation. Mind you, he always has that one-eyebrow-raised-questioningly look when he sees her in something sexy. I guess he has trouble seeing his little girl looking all grown up, hehehe..!

By the time we got home from the shopping I had developed a headache that then morphed into migraine that finally went away some time while I was asleep last night. So although I know the weather was fine for the long weekend, I didn't exactly get to enjoy it too much. Apart from the half hour in the sun yesterday (which I knew I shouldn't do but it was the first hot day of the year and who knows when, or if, we'll get another???!) I pretty much slept for the rest of Saturday, Sunday and Monday.
So much for the weekend of writing that I was looking forward to...

But I'm sure there will be other good-weather weekends. The seasons changed... and just when I thought it would never be warm again!
But of course with the warmer weather come other things. There's a certain, erm, shall we say 'mobile' community in this country who migrate to the seaside towns in the Summertime. Stuff tends to go missing around this time. You may remember that poor Cinderella had not one, but Two motorcycles stolen from her last year..?
Well it's that time of year again.
This morning we awoke to find her brother's motorcycle gone from where it had been chained up with the rest of them, outside our front door. My poor stepson has only had the thing for maybe a month, if that.
I don't want to dwell on this too much because I don't want to get all worked up; it's no way to start the day. Let's just say the temptation to lay in wait overnight with a loaded shotgun is REALLY strong.

I think I have had enough of this now.

oops I did it again

2008-04-29T09:37:00.000+01:00

Somehow I missed what has become my weekly posting, this weekend... not that there was a huge amount to be said but here's an update anyway.

On Saturday Hubby and I went to our friends' daughter's birthday party. She turned 1. I don't imagine the little one had too much of an idea as to why her home was being invaded by so many people but she took the extra attention like a true champ. The cake helped, I suppose. I do hope, though, that the poor kid is not left emotionally scarred after seeing her aunty decapitating Tigger with a huge sharp knife as she sliced through the icing figurines to get to the cake. It gave me the heebies... but then I had just been listening in on a conversation two women were having about the haunted houses they had both lived in. Who know there were so many ghosts in Ireland?!
So we - ok, I - gorged on cocktail sausages, sandwiches and crackers with cheese spread, enough to ensure there wouldn't be a need to cook supper later. I think Hubby and the kids were a little peckish by 9pm but I was fine, hehehe! I get to have Saturday nights off as far as cooking is concerned so if they get hungry, well they're all capable of feeding themselves and each other. I should probably mention this latest resolution of mine to them at some point... ah sure, they're all reasonably bright, they'll figure it out at some point.

Sunday morning was glorious. Bright, hot sunshine like we haven't seen in... well so long that I don't honestly remember. We took advantage of this wonderful weather and headed off to the Clay Pigeon Shooting range to bust a few clays. It's something I haven't done in ages but the good news is that I've not completely lost my touch. By this, I mean I hit more than I missed which is always a good thing.
So I haven't been able to move my arms as a result of stiff muscles for the last two days, so what? It was well worth it. Shooting stuff is always a blast.

OK so I've written all this; now for the tricky part... getting it onto the blog without being bust by my boss. Here goes...!

on a scale of one to ten

2008-04-20T17:39:00.003+01:00

I have a new colleague at work. He's a youngster - only just 25 or so - and filled with enthusiasm for life, as young men are.
He recently got himself a new pet. A lizard, called Steve. From his description it sounds like Steve is more of an Iguana than a lizard, but the Irish don't know a whole lot about reptiles on account of they're not native to the place - being cold-blooded and all they tend to not survive here very long in the wild.

I'm finding that Steve the Lizard is a source of much entertainment for me.

A few weeks back I arrived at work to find an email from our boss that was something along the lines of:

Hi Terri,
G is going to be late to work today because his lizard is sick.
Regards,
P

Now there's one you don't hear every day...!

Anyway it turns out Steve's diet consists primarily of crickets. Simple, right? Only trouble is, crickets are also not native to Ireland. I don't believe I have ever seen or heard one in the 7 years we've been in this country. So my young colleague has to buy them from the pet shop, by the box.
When I heard this I just started laughing - his bloodshot eyes said it all. The first night, he had the box of crickets in his room, right where Steve lives.
Those of you from warmer climates will know why I found this funny - I remember it was bad enough, living in South Africa, when there was just one cricket somewhere in the house. For their size these are really noisy bugs (and sneaky, too - you could never find the damn thing to shut it up, either!). So there is this young buck with his boxful of crickets all announcing to the world a large how much they like the darkness - he didn't sleep a wink!

Lesson learned, the crickets were promptly moved to a remote area in the shed, or something, where they couldn't disrupt his sleep.

Until last week when his sister brought them in to feed Steve and accidentally dropped the box, scattering crickets everywhere... did I mention how sneaky these things are?
My colleague is learning a whole lot about reptiles and bugs at the moment.

He's a bright lad, though. Not to outsmarted he finally bought a box of noise-less crickets.
Noise-less crickets??? I'm thinking maybe genetic engineering may have found its niche; until he told me that on closer inspection the reason the poor creatures are noiseless is that they have had their wings removed. Am I the only one who finds this cruel? At the same time, though, can you believe that not only are there people in this world whose job it is to catch crickets, but there are also people whose job it is to pull their wings off??!!!

It seems like an awful lot of fuss to keep a pet lizard. I can't help thinking he shoulda got a rabbit or something, rather.

enlightenment and alien flowers

2008-04-13T11:44:00.006+01:00

Because I haven't posted a photograph in a while, here's one I took this morning...

Does anyone else think these look like alien flowers?

I have been reading a book that can best be described as "enlightening"... it has brought into focus all the different things that life and others have been trying to teach me. I get it now. I guess I just needed it put to me in a certain way for the penny to drop. Some people are lucky; they get it without all the emotional fuss and tortuous questioning. They simply get it from what their lives have taught them. Some of us need a little help.
Here's hoping that now I have it, I don't lose it again...

For it's easy to be positive when things are running smoothly. The trick is in not allowing the speed bumps of life to throw us off course. Most of the time, life happens gradually - it's like that whole cooking a frog story ^[1]. You think everything is fine until one day you realise you're not happy, and that you have been slowly becoming unhappier over time. It doesn't just happen in an instant. Clawing your way back from this can take just as long as it took to get there in the first place.

So what is it that I'm yabbering on about today? Let's just say I hit a speed bump last night, although exactly what it was, I am unable to tell you (not because I don't want to but because I honestly have no idea why I reacted the way I did!)
I am pleased to report, though, that after a few hours of Terri-time today and a little bit of sunshine outside for a change, I am well on my way to regaining that Balance I've been cultivating of late ^[2].

~

^[1] I forget the details but it's something along the lines of you can't boil a frog by tossing it into hot water because it'll just jump out... instead you put him in cold water and slowly turn up the heat. Horrible metaphor, I know!

^[2] I have learned that if you say it enough then it becomes true. Cool trick.

all work and no play...

2008-04-06T18:09:00.003+01:00

Life is all about priorities, don't you think? Well, that's not all that it's about, obviously, but it sort of is because it's the thing that sorts out all the other stuff that life is about.
It's also about balance. We all need balance in our lives. Balance between work and play; between making money and spending it; between looking after others and looking after ourselves.

For a very long time I have felt that my life lacked balance. I never seemed to have enough time or energy left over for myself after doing all the stuff that I felt I should be doing. It may be that I have a rather over-developed sense of duty.

Lately, though, something seems to have twigged in my brain. I've always said that I can't do everything - and it's true. But whereas before I saw it as a personal shortcoming, I have now finally learned to accept that this is true not just of me, but of everyone, which means I am no longer trying so hard to do everything.
Talk about an epiphany!
I don't even want to think about how much energy I have wasted on stressing about not getting everything done.

This is not to say I've thrown my hands up in defeat. Not at all. I have been working seriously long, hard hours the last few weeks (months? dunno - not counting).
But to balance that out, I have also done some serious amounts of NOTHING, and it's been so good for me.
It does, unfortunately, have the side-effect of making me a tad boring. When one does nothing, there is very little to tell people.

"So what have you been up to lately, Terri?"
"Er, nothing much. You know, working, eating, sleeping..."

Not a great conversation-maker.

Well boo hoo. After working as hard as I have been, I deserve to take a nap on a Saturday afternoon. And a Sunday afternoon. And on Saturday and Sunday mornings, if I feel that way inclined.
Knowing that I deserve this rest, that it gives balance to my life, makes it a lot easier to enjoy the time spent doing nothing without stressing about what I should be doing instead.

The best part is, it turns out the rest of the family are perfectly capable of housework, and of feeding themselves and each other and, most importantly, me :-)
All it took was for me to tell them, "Hey guys, I'm working my ass off and I'm exhausted - I need a little help here."
And I got it.
Fancy that.

So I'm still working hard, but I'm resting hard too.
And in working hard, I'm earning a fair bit of extra money in Overtime. To balance that out, I booked a week away on a Greek island for Hubby and I next month. I made it, I can spend it. See how simple it is?

All that's left now is to figure out where to prioritise some regular blog-time and I'll be set!
I miss you guys.

Is that a ship I see on the horizon..?

2008-03-24T11:38:00.005Z

One of my photographs has been published. I knew fame and fortune had to happen sooner or later...
Switch the view from map to photos and take a look at the "Merrion Square" photos under "Attractions and Landmarks". I think mine is about the 4th one
:-)

about this whole turning-over-a-new-leaf thing...

2008-03-07T13:22:00.000Z

I bought a book last Sunday, called The Secret". I wasn't sure what to expect but it has a cover that sort of makes you want to open it and see what's inside.
So I did, and I started reading it, and it blew me away. You have to read the book to know what I'm on about but it's all about how our thoughts shape our lives. It's not just enough to agree with this, you have to know it.

It talks about a lot of stuff, but one of the things I picked out was what the author says about weight. Now, I don't exactly battle with my weight - my whole life I've been one of those fortunate people who can eat what they want without picking up weight. So I wasn't concerned when I put on a couple of kilograms over the winter - after all, haven't I always been able to lose them again easily enough? Only, I seemed to carry on picking up weight, until my favourite jeans became so tight I could barely sit down in them. And I started wondering if perhaps what they say about it getting harder to lose weight as one gets older is true. And the waistline kept expanding and the butt continued to droop.

So when the author of this book said that the trick is to Think yourself Thin, I figured I'd give it a shot, and for the last 4 days I have been telling myself that I am my perfect weight, and that I look great... and I've been believing it to a point where I've actually seen myself looking nice and slim when I look in the mirror. There was a minor glitch this morning when I put on my black work trousers and they felt really tight, but I persevered and kept believing I look great.

And now comes the punchline...
I was standing at the printer this morning and a woman I work with walked past, stopped, turned around and said, "You're looking lovely and slim, Terri..."
It was all I could do not to laugh out loud! I just smiled and thanked her but inside I was laughing my ass off (haha, get the pun?!).
There's something to be said for this Secret!

So here's my good vibe for today: Have a fantastic weekend, all of you!
xxx

some random things

2008-03-03T13:43:00.002Z

Friday we had "Smart-Casual day" at work. It is no longer referred to as "Casual Day" due to the vast quantities of belly-rings and other attire deemed unsuitable for a corporate financial institution that were in evidence a couple of years back. I don't really mind; it makes no difference to me. I like "Smart-Casual" days 'cos I get to wear jeans to work. I feel comfy in jeans and I believe it actually improves my productivity. They don't occur very often - normally only on Fridays preceding a Bank Holiday Monday weekend. This was an exception.
This "Smart-Casual Day" was to mark something called "Work / Life Balance Day".
The irony was not lost on me that this particular day was being celebrated on the 29^th of February... a day that only comes around every 4 years.
And I had to work late.
I found this all terribly amusing; I'm not sure what that says about my sense of humour or my state of mind.

Despite being on-call for work all weekend, it actually wasn't all that bad, as weekends go. Yesterday, in particular, turned out to be a good day. I awoke slowly, in my own time, which is always a bonus, a few minutes before there was a light tapping on the door and when it opened there were my stepchildren bearing coffee and muffins. I was just wondering what on earth Hubby and I had done to deserve such special treatment when they grinned and wished me Happy Mother's Day. Ah, right, so that's what it was. Cool! Breakfast in bed came complete with flowers and a card too. I was really touched (and not just in the head!) and all in all I ended up having a pretty damn good day.

So I'm trying to start again. Every now and then when things get crazy at work and I get all stressed out, then I get tired and start getting ratty at home too. I can be very difficult to live with at such times; I dislike myself so I can only imagine what the people I live with must go through. I get irritated really quickly and all I see is the stuff that isn't done, or isn't done right (i.e. MY way) and I feel like a fishwife, banging pots & pans in the kitchen or flinging odd socks around the place.
Well yesterday I was browsing around a bookstore and I came away with a couple of books to help me readjust my attitude. I am going to think positive about everything; I am not going to allow work to stress me out; I am going to be more pleasant to be around.
But ya know, it's just not that simple. I was doing so well this morning and then BAM! One thing follows the next, follows the next and the next thing you know I'm biting my tongue not to shake someone until their teeth rattle. Is this the Universe's cruel sense of humour?
"Uh-oh, quick, she's starting to relax, let's see just how much it takes to make her crack and return to her bitchy ways!"
Can I please get a break over here???!
I will win out, you know, in the end.
I have to.

time bombed

2008-02-26T21:29:00.003Z

Well goodness me and golly gosh, where does the time go?!

I'd say I spent the last week as follows:
Work: 50%
Sleep: 40%
Housework: 3%
Shopping: 2%
Watching TV: 3%
Email / Blogging, etc: 1%
Getting my hair done: 1%

A couple of things to note here:
1 - Only about half the shopping was boring old groceries. Cinderella and I went shopping just for fun on Saturday and bought some clothes for ourselves just for fun. It was my kind of shopping: cheap stuff that I don't expect to last more than 5 washes but that's OK 'cos at that price I get to go shopping again soon to replace it.

2 - On the Hair thing: I forgot to mention that we went out for dinner with friends on Saturday night in honour of my new haircut. I HATED the last cut and it had finally grown out to point where it could be fixed so I decided to celebrate. Well I had to have some excuse for going out, didn't I?

So what was the point of this little exercise? Well I'm not 100% sure, mostly because I'm too bloody tired from working so hard to even think straight. This post could, in fact, have started life as a rant about work but I just don't have the energy.

It ties in well with what I'm really trying to say, though: 1% on email AND blogging (etc^[1])?! That's just not good enough. I'm supposed to fancy myself as an amateur writer of sorts... like a hobby that maybe might one day turn into something I could retire to do full-time. Blogging is a great way to keep the writing juices flowing. On those days when you don't have time to work on that story you've been writing, you write up a quick post for your blog, just to keep in practice.
Having half an hour a week to write is just not cutting the mustard! It's been bugging me... but I've been too weary to do anything about it.

It's really annoying.

Having said that, I did manage to do a little bit of creative writing over the weekend, late on Sunday afternoon. My friend Jason Evans is hosting a little Short Fiction contest over at The Clarity of Night, you see, and the photograph he posted for it did it's job well and inspired me to pick up a pen (figuratively speaking, of course - nobody uses pens anymore!) and add my contribution.
You may read the fruits of my labour here.
It's not exactly my finest literary masterpiece but it's better than what I've been writing lately which is pretty much, um, nothing.

Thank you, Jason, for spurring me out of my slump for an afternoon.

Now, if everyone could just spare me 10 minutes of free time over the next few days, maybe I'll finally get to spend some more time with you guys in Blogland. For now, sleep beckons....

~

^[1]The "etc" is the dreaded "F" word - Facebook. It just seems rude not to poke people back y'know?

a day in the life...

2008-02-18T17:29:00.003Z

07:00 Wake up 'cos Hubby has to get up to go to work. Thank the universe that I'm on late shift so can sleep another 15 minutes. Roll over, shove head under Hubby's pillow and sprawl comfortably. Snore a bit.

07:15 Pandemonium wakes me - phone is throwing a fit with alarm going off. Phone is not next to bed where it should be. Hubby charges out of bathroom to dig in my handbag, finds phone and hands it to me to switch off. Am now completely awake. Get up, shower, etc at leisure... after all, am on late shift this week; no need to rush.

07:55 Check the letter in my rucksack to confirm I have to be at hospital for blood test at 09:30¹. Oh sh*t! Appointment is actually for 08:30. Panic a bit then gobble down half a bowl of cereal and leave house for first time in about 20 years without first having coffee.

08:20 Turn off motoway to follow big blue H sign to the hospital.

08:30 Stuck in traffic and not at all sure I'm going in the right direction.

08:40 Spy another big blue H sign down road on the right and thank universe for red traffic lights.

08:50 Stop in the hospital parking lot, remove helmet, balaclava, gloves and rucksack. Dig in rucksack for phone and ring the bloody lab to find out where I'm supposed to go.

09:00 Announce myself at the window, take a number and wait.

09:55 Blood test is done, using special test tube to outsmart clumping platelets. Have arrived at work after following naught but my impeccable sense of direction to find my way to work through an area I don't know at all. Pat self on back, change into working clothes and saunter up to desk.

10:05 Arrive at desk to find new young colleague looking pale and panicked and lots of managers looking worried and talking in hushed voices. Pick up info from garbled rumours that air-conditioning failed or pipe burst or something and Comms Room is under an inch of water. Still haven't had coffee. This is not good.

10:10 Establish that nothing has actually failed... yet. Boss arrives and takes over worrying. I get to have a cup of coffee at last.

13:24 Panic is over, water is gone (mostly) thanks to long-suffering Hoover. Ask universe if perhaps I should have stayed home today? Try to remember what I started doing before I was interrupted by an interruption of an interruption of an interruption 2 hours ago. Check today's canteen menu online.

15:35 Is it just me or is it really hot in the office today? Ah, no it's not just me. The air-conditioning is faulty (again) and the temperature is around 29°C (84°F) at my desk. I know this 'cos one of my colleagues has a thermometer at her desk. According to my Accuweather Info Bar in Firefox, it is currently 7°C (45°F) outside. We're debating who to nominate to go demand free ice cream from the boss.

15:42 The guy behind me discovered that Ryanair now charges €4 to check in at the airport. Much muttering and head shaking abounds.

16:46 Interrupt myself to change picture on my PC desktop. Now staring wistfully at photo of Montreux, remembering how nice it was there and how much fun biking 'round Europe was.

17:01 Reviewed weekend in head. Think personal emotional crisis is past. Wonder if going to Salsa club with Hubby and step-children + step-daughter's friend on Saturday night is normal. What's the opposite of dysfunctional?

17:07 Very painful sneeze due to putting neck out while sleeping last night. OUCH!!! Thank universe I don't sneeze very often. Wonder just what I was up to in sleep to cause neck to go out.

17:08 Will this day ever end??

17:15 Wonder how to allocate blogging on today's timesheet. Oh bollocks! More work to do...

17:25 Only 45 minutes to go. Sneak login to Blogger to post this rubbish... oops boss is back. Scratch that.

19:28 Home at last. Had great (if chilly) ride home on motorbike :-)

20:27 Tummy full. Hubby made supper, yay! Kids cleaned up afterwards, double yay! "Heroes" is on in an hour, yay and woohoo!

I guess not all Mondays that start out bad end up that way, eh?

~
~
¹ Apparently I have clumped platelets^1.1 so my doc sent me direct to the lab as they have to order in a special tube. Just part of a regular checkup, so don't panic. ^1.1 Seriously... "Clumping Platelets"??? WTF??!

you may want to get some kleenex...

2008-02-16T13:24:00.004Z

I have a friend, a very close friend. Our parents were mates from before we were born and so we've been playing together since I was maybe two years old, when we moved from my hometown of Port Elizabeth to what was then the Transvaal. Her family was there already and although we lived in different towns we would get together as families regularly throughout my childhood. If memory serves, it would start as a lunchtime Braai that would last the whole day and result in a sleepover, no doubt due to the amount of Lagers consumed by the adults. As a kid I was oblivious to the why's and wherefore's, though. It was just fun to stay over and spend time playing.

After my father passed away - I was 7 - we moved away, back to Port Elizabeth. And that was when I first got into letter-writing. Thirty-four years later, my friend and I are as close as ever, though the letter-writing has been replaced by email and SMS. Even though we have never lived in the same town (except for 2 months when I was 23 when we lived in the same house, never mind city), my friend and I have been through everything together. First kisses (..etc), heartbreaks, fears, marriages, divorces, births... mostly through letter and telephone.

We are so different from each other. I was always the shy one, a follower, cautious. She was always larger than life, brash, unafraid. I think she likes that I make her laugh. I love that she takes no shit from anyone. It's an odd mix, but it works. We may not be blood relatives but she is as much a sister to me as those I share parents with.

This past week my dear friend's husband passed away suddenly. And every time I think about it I cry because I'm not there with her, my friend, who holds a very dear part of my heart in hers. My heart is breaking because hers is, I feel her loss almost as my own.
I very nearly made the 12-hour flight to be with her, but after calming down and thinking about it I changed my mind. Her parents are with her and if I think about it practically, she probably doesn't need too many people around her now. I would imagine she needs time to absorb what has happened and adjust her life accordingly. In a little while, once the shock has passed, I will think again about making the trip... in fact I think I've already decided I will, because I know that a time will come where perhaps I will be able to do more for her by being there than I would right now. I could hear in her voice on the phone that she appreciated just hearing my voice. We sat in silence for a few minutes on the phone the day it happened, there was nothing to say, I just wanted to be there with her.

You know, I became aware during my period of getting my head right a while back that I have a tendency to make other peoples' problems my own; that when someone I love is in trouble I take it into myself as if it were happening to me. This is not a good thing to do and I have learned to distance myself, to do what I can if I can and then let it go. It's a much healthier way of living and I think I have made this change of mindset rather well. The point is I can see where some might think I am taking this bereavement personally... and I do feel bereaved;
Although I didn't know her husband all that well, it was still a shock.
But I don't think my heartache is because I am taking someone else's pain personally. I don't think I am going through this as she is. And I don't think the pain I am feeling is because what has happened to my friend is the very thing I fear most in life.

What I do see, with unusual clarity, is that the loss I am feeling is my own. It is the fact that I feel an almost primal instinct to be with my friend but I'm so far away that I can't be, not from a practical point of view... it's everything I feel about being away from my homeland all gathered into one single identifiable point. Having it all spread out like it normally is, is manageable; the odd moment of homesickness, or missing my mom, a my friend, or a sister; the occasional feeling of anxiety - what if something happens to someone and I'm not there? But this, this thing that has happened, this monstrous tragedy has brought it all into one single lump of grief in my heart that is terribly hard to bear.

She will be OK, this friend of mine. She is strong and has been through enough in this life to be able to pick up the pieces and carry on. I know this because of what she said to me a couple of days ago, that at least she got to have a few years with him, a few years where he made her happy.
I only wish that she'd had a few more...

+ Rest in Peace, Andy +

Who's been a naughty Dictator then..?

2008-02-12T09:09:00.000Z

I overslept this morning. Not because I was tired, although I was tired but that's not why I overslept. No, I overslept because I was in the middle of a conversation with a Russian dictator when my alarm went off and it was a Very Important Conversation, which I felt it important to finish. So I killed my alarm and continued with what I was doing.

He wasn't actually Russian, to be perfectly accurate. He comes from one of those small countries on the border between America and Russia - you know, where their borders meet over the top of the globe, where the ice cap isn't. The name of the country on the map is somewhere between the names 'Monrovia' and 'Armenia', I forget what it was exactly. I got there because I was looking at the map and I jabbed a pencil at it and the next thing I was there, surrounded by what I can only assume was some sort of peace-keeping force, judging by the beige jeeps and army tents, but lack of weapons.
I often travel to places in this manner at night.

So we were looking around the place, in this big warehouse full of artifacts and treasures from this Dictator's reign, safe in the knowledge that he was far away somewhere in hiding. But then when I stepped into the bathroom to change my clothes (no, I don't know why, I just knew I was the only woman there so I needed to change behind closed doors), well there, trying to keep as quiet as possible, was this Dictator. He was afraid of being found and not at all scary, contrary to his reputation. He explained that he just wanted his son back, and if America gave his son back (which it couldn't, really, since his son was there of his own free will, studying at a university so it wasn't actually their place to give him back) then he would stop being a Dictator. I tried to explain all this to him, and that he was only hurting his people and his country by being a Dictator, but the silly man wouldn't listen.
So I just turned my back on him and ate my hotdog, which was really nice; all filled with tomato & onion relish that was dripping down the sides.
And when I'd finished my hotdog, I woke up.

After all, I really needed to get moving if I wanted to get to work on time.

Another week done

2008-02-08T08:49:00.001Z

I seriously have to figure out a way to NOT have to work for a living. This is killing me. The day we flew back from New York I had these weird itchy red bumps on the palms of both hands that I am loath to call Hives but that seem to appear in times of severe stress. (The first time I had them was right before I got married.)
I couldn't figure out what I was worried about - I had had a really relaxing week and there was nothing huge on my mind. Work was going well, in fact life was pretty much smooth sailing all around.

But I think I've figured it out - the thing that was worrying me subconsciously has come to pass.
I have once again been sucked into the gray monotony that is the life of a thirty-something working professional woman / wife / (step-)mother. Wake up. Shower. Eat. Got to work. Smoke at 11. Lunch at 1. Smoke at 3. Home. Dinner. Laundry. TV. Bed.
Granted, I sometimes get a bit of a rush on the bike on the motorway coming home - if it's not blowing gales or p*ssing rain outside.

I was happy when January ended. The days are starting to get longer, the daffodils are beginning to make an appearance. Yesterday it actually felt warm at around 10 degrees C.
I got a promotion this week - and an increase and a bonus. I was really pleased about all three; I've been with the company 51/2 years and I've worked really hard so I feel I deserve the recognition.

At the same time... I've been working there 5 1/2 years!!! The same place, the same faces, for five and a half years.

If it weren't for the trips we take I think I would go stark raving mad or simply expire, becoming nothing more than another speck in the gray mush of the daily grind.

Is anyone prepared to sponsor me to travel the world? Please? In return I can tell you all about it - I can take pictures too!

Happy Friday, everyone.

At Last! My New York experience...

2008-01-29T21:37:00.000Z

I thought I'd be landing in a snowy landscape. We flew in over Canada, you see, then headed South. I had a window seat and I could see the land below covered in white. It was really pretty. But about 5 minutes before we landed the snow went away and the landscape around Newark was really just brown and gray. I wasn't paying too much attention, though - I was too busy pointing Hubby's camera out the window at the skyline in the distance.

VIEW OF MANHATTAN DURING THE LANDING

Customs was tedious - it seems there are a lot of people who want to go to America. After a minor glitch where the fingerprint on my right hand went missing for a short period, we were waved through. We travelled into Manhattan on the Newark Express coach, which took us safely from the drab, flat landscape of New Jersey through the dark, narrow Lincoln tunnel, to emerge onto a different planet; one of towering buildings, neon lights, manic traffic and crowds of people always on the move. Bring it on, Baby! The energy of this place is palpable.

After checking in and freshening up we headed out to a nearby diner, where we met Anne for dinner. The steak was juicy and the company was excellent :-) For those of you who know Anne (some of you may remember her from her old place), you will be pleased hear that she looks great - living in New York obviously agrees with her!

Our stomachs full, we took a stroll in the rain to Times Square which is not, as one might be forgiven for thinking, a square. It's more of a very large intersection of indeterminate shape. There's not a lot to see there, at night. That is, there are lots of lights and people and traffic and neon signs - flashing and not - and some shops... perhaps I was beginning to tire, or perhaps it was the fact that it was freezing cold and raining, but I had no desire to hang around there for very long, so we retraced our steps and went for a couple of beers in a pub instead.
It was cosy inside the bar, with Salsa music leaking out of the jukebox and a bunch of young men speaking Spanish with the gorgeous, busty barlady who brought beers to our wobbly round table with a smile. The lighting was reminiscent of that '80's classic movie "Cocktail" (way back when Tom Cruise was still, uh, sane) and all in all it was a pleasant, mellow evening.
I thought we did quite well to stay up until 11pm, considering our bodies were still on Irish time which would have made it 4am the next morning!

Fortunately we had the most comfortable bed in the world in our hotel room so we slept a solid sleep and awoke refreshed and alert. OK, perhaps alert came after we'd had coffee from the dinky little coffee machine in our room.

VIEW FROM OUR WINDOW

Tuesday was my birthday and Hubby announced that we would spend the day exactly as I wanted to. What more could a girl ask for??!
So after breakfast we picked up a pamphlet in the lobby that contained a map of Manhattan, including subway stops, and ventured into the murky depths of public transportation. Considering we got on the right train heading in the right direction - uptown - and got off at the right stop, I thought it went pretty well. On exiting the station we asked a policeman which direction we should head in, having emerged into daylight with absolutely no sense of direction between us. It turned out he was in the same predicament but fortunately one of his buddies (for some reason there was a whole herd of cops hanging around) knew exactly where he was. Our first stop was the Lincoln Centre, home of the New York City Ballet, where we purchased tickets for that night's performance.

From there we wandered a block or so east and crossed the road to enter Central Park. I would like to see it in the Summer months; in January all the trees were bare and dead-looking and even the grass didn't look too happy, unlike the squirrels, who seemed to be enjoying the dry weather immensely.

We walked, and took photographs, and enjoyed the peace and quiet, and eventually found the Wollman Rink, situated in a slight depression and thus sheltered from the wind, which was quite icy when it blew.

And there, we skated, and I had the most amazing time...
For one thing, the boots were comfortable - they were of the leather lace-up variety as opposed to those horrible plastic moulded ones you find in Dublin that make your feet cramp and blister within seconds.
As for the rest of it, it seems the Gods were smiling on me on my birthday because no sooner had I strapped on my boots than the sun came out, revealing a bright blue sky and removing the cutting iciness from the air. Being mid-week, the rink was not terribly crowded so I had plenty of time and space to get my balance without being pressured to move along quickly or get out of the way or get run over. The music echoing over loudspeakers was happy music - old stuff like the Buttercup song from the 60's, or that classic ice-skating song, Wham's "Last Christmas".
And so we spent about 2 hours at the rink, me on the ice for most of it. By the end of that time I was whizzing along like a pro (well, it felt like it anyway) and there have been few times in my life when I have been as unconditionally happy as I was then.

Luckily for Hubby the rink closed around 2pm, so we had to leave then. We walked around the park a bit, past the pretty but rather smelly horse-drawn carriages, and bought hotdogs from a street vendor. Without wanting to offend anyone, I must be honest and say I've tasted better... also, they were not terribly filling so after walking a few blocks down 6th Avenue we found a place to get lunch, where we could sit on chairs, inside, at a table, and choose from sandwiches or subs, or pizza or pretzels or sweet things.

It was a long walk back to our hotel in Midtown Manhattan, but we enjoyed looking at all the people and the giant buildings and feeling the general buzz of the place. Once back at the hotel, though, we were feeling tired so we settled in for a short nap that lasted over 2 hours.

We awoke with just enough time to freshen up and take the subway all the way back to the Lincoln Centre to catch the NYC Ballet's final performance of Romeo and Juliet. The ballet was beautiful and our seats were spectacular - front row center on the first tier. I was quite pleased to see that Hubby seemed to even enjoy it a bit, not being a huge fan of the ballet while I, of course, simply love it.
Afterwards it was sort of too late to go out to dinner but not yet late enough to go to sleep. Neither of us were particularly interested in clubbing or going out on the lash either, so we picked up some fruit salad and an enormous muffin, plus a smoothie each, from a deli near the hotel and sat on our giant, comfortable bed munching what turned out to be a really tasty ad-hoc meal and catching up with some world news on the big flat-screen TV.

The next day was ear-marked for Doing Things. Our first stop was the Empire State Building, a block away from our hotel. After being shredded for cash at every turn to get to the 86th floor - and there were a lot of turns along the way! - we braved the clear, freezing skies to view the world from above.
And yes, it was quite a view, although I'm not sure it was worth $18 each plus another $8 for a map of what we were looking at, a map we were told we really should have since there were no guides up top there so we mustn't forget to ask the cashier for one when we pay for our tickets... not realising until after she'd given us the thing that it would cost extra.

From the top of the world we went down to the depths - back onto the subway that took us all the way to South Port at the tip of Downtown Manhattan. From there we hopped on the Staten Island ferry, snapping dozens of photos of Lady Liberty as we passed and yet more of the most famous skyline of them all.

The ferry was free, which made us feel a lot better after our expensive trip up the Empire State Building. We also bought coffee and a pretzel on board, which we ate on a bench in the sunshine on Staten Island before taking the ferry back to Manhattan half an hour later.

We spent the rest of the day downtown, wandering up to Wall Street past the massive bronze "Charging Bull" sculpture, to the site where the World Trade Centre used to be. There is not much to see there, just a big hole that is a construction site, surrounded by makeshift wooden fences. There are no tour guides here, no postcards on sale and no souvenir stands, just thousands of names on a section of wall around a small booth displaying a couple of artists impressions of what the place will look like when it is rebuilt.
It was the only place in the city that seemed quiet, somehow.

In the afternoon we attempted to do some shopping in Century 21 which is a big department store. I found a pretty handbag and some sunglasses but I'm ashamed to say the sheer magnitude of clothes available inside intimidated the hell out of me and we left and went back to our room overwhelmed and beaten.

After yet another nap (I could seriously get used to this lifestyle!) that lasted into the early evening we were rudely awakened by the sound of sirens outside our hotel. I was hungry, Hubby wasn't, so we compromised by going downstairs for a smoke and to see what all the noise was about. We couldn't see much - just a heap of police cars and fire engines blocking the intersection at the end of our block... and not a fireman in sight, much to my disappointment. The only uniform in evidence was one of New York's finest, leaning against his patrol car and munching a donut. I found this particularly funny :-) He must've been the one they told, "You wait here and keep an eye on the vehicles, Chuck..."

Having still not quite decided if we wanted supper or not we walked around the block and stumbled across none other than an Irish Pub. Naturally we had to go in. The place was dark but cheerful, a long, narrow room filled with an after work crowd, the music - of the U2 / Goo Goo Dolls ilk - just the right volume so it would have me humming along but not so loud as to drown out the conversation.
When Seamus, the barman, heard we lived in his home country he proceeded to try to kill us with kindness... a number of really heavy G&T's and Brandy & Cokes (more Gin and Brandy than Tonic or Coke) later we stumbled back to the hotel and slept the sleep of the dead in our wonderful giant bed.

Thursday was shopping day. Our hotel was located smack in the middle of the Garment District so we didn't have far to wander. We shopped, and the shopping was good. It was so good, in fact, that we went back to the hotel half way to drop some bags in order to start again. I could have shopped even more but there was just no more space in our luggage.
Lunch consisted of coffee and donuts. We needed the energy.
That evening we took the subway all the way to Brooklyn where we met Anne, again, for dinner. We met in a South African establishment, the Madiba Restaurant. It was recommended by Dawn, who we had hoped would be able to meet us there, but unfortunately this didn't pan out. I did get to have a nice long chat with her on the phone though. We'll catch up with you next time, eh Dawn?
The decor in the restaurant is distinctly South African - very shebeen-like, with a chandelier made of coke bottles that Anne was most impressed by. The menu contained dishes like bobotie, and samoosas. I had the spare ribs which were simply yummy, and a Dom Pedro for dessert. While we were eating, the snow was cascading down outside and I had hopes that I would see the place covered in white before we left. It was not to be, though; the snow didn't settle. It was just damn cold and wet. Inside, meanwhile, we were entertained by a folk singer (apparently someone famous but I'm embarrassed to say I don't remember the lady's name... 'Mama' something, I think...) and the staff doing some gumboot dancing between the tightly packed tables. It was all very festive and, um, crowded.

I was disappointed to be leaving on Friday. We packed our bags and checked out, leaving the luggage in the custody of the hotel porter and his trusty key. With a few hours to kill, we headed back to Brooklyn. I had a bridge to see in daylight.
Brooklyn is very different to Manhattan - it's quieter, less rushed and the buildings are much shorter too. There was no sign of the snow from the night before so we had a lovely stroll through the streets, along the Brooklyn Heights Promenade and onto the Brooklyn Bridge itself. I got my photographs, so I was happy.

DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN, FROM THE BROOKLYN HEIGHTS PROMENADE

BROOKLYN BRIDGE

Back in the vicinity of our hotel a couple of hours later we wandered around the Manhattan Mall, which was a couple of blocks over. Our hearts weren't in the shopping - we couldn't very well buy any more, since our bags were already packed. But we did have a really good lunch in the food hall on the lower level - some sort of sweet and sour pork dish from a Cajun take-out place. If you asked me what I thought about Manhattan I would say two things:
One: Nobody is likely to starve there. There are eateries every few steps and the variety is just fantastic.
Two: The people are really nice. I was surprised at just how friendly they are. And helpful - you don't even have to ask for help. Just looking lost is enough to prompt someone to stop and offer assistance.

There seems to be a "live and let live" attitude about the place. There are so many people from so many places, cultures, creeds, and walks of life that nobody looks out of place. Yet it doesn't seem as cold or, quite frankly, rude as London, for example. For all the mad traffic and fast pace, it's actually quite a laid-back place, somehow. We were really impressed.

So impressed, in fact, that I really didn't want to leave, although I don't think I could live there either. It just would've been nice to stay just a little longer...

nothing to report but the news

2008-01-26T16:31:00.001Z

OK so the thing is, I wanted my first post after our trip to New York to be about just that but it's taking longer than anticipated to write the thing up. Big surprise. Finding a block of a few hours at a time to write it up has been impossible this week. So it'll have to wait. I thought I might just let you all know that we're back, having had a fantastic time. Pictures and details will follow at some point. Promise.

Today we're having some trouble sitting still, as we are anticipating a major event this evening: my stepson, having passed his final year of school in SA in December, arrives tonight - in just over 2 hours, in fact. And not just for a visit, this time, but for good!
The newly converted attic has been cleaned up in preparation, and a chest of drawers purchased and hammered together (everything comes in a flat-pack these days) so he will have somewhere to put his clothes. After 6 1/2 years our little family will finally all be under one roof and I can proceed to mothering him at last. Although at 18 I'm not sure how much mothering he will want but sure, it's my prerogative.
Some people have suggested it will take some adjusting, having another person in the household to look after but I like to see it as another pair of hands to help with the dishes, LOL!
I jest, of course. He's had a tough year and Hubby and I have felt horribly helpless here in Ireland while he was all the way over in South Africa. It's time for us to be a family.

With this in mind I'm sure you understand how I'm having trouble concentrating on writing up a trip report about New York. Did I mention it was fantastic?!

I've uploaded some photos to Flickr in the meantime, for those of you that feel like taking a look.
Right now I gotta get ready to go to the airport!!!

Capricornus Adventurous

2008-01-10T20:25:00.000Z

Just one more day at work and I'm on holiday again!

Having hosted Christmas at my house I thought I might need some time to relax afterwards - and I was right. Although I wasn't working over the festive season, I didn't exactly get a lot of downtime. I feel like I've been in a never-ending cycle of cooking and cleaning up. I'm sure there are other wives and mothers out there who know what I'm talking about. This week it has been my mission to get to the bottom of the laundry basket. I'm almost there, after what feels like dozens of loads of clothes, bedding and towels... and now I'm out of fabric softener but I will not fail! A quick trip to the supermarket after work tomorrow should sort that out.

Because, you see, it has to be done by the end of the weekend.

Because next week I won't be here to do it. Next week, I'm taking my well-earned holiday and taking a bite of the Big Apple.
And when I get back the laundry basket will once again be full. But I won't be thinking about that when I'm exploring New York City with Hubby. Nope, laundry will be the furthest thing from my mind.
We'll be shopping, and snapping photographs, and ice skating. And did I mention shopping?
;-)
You see, it's my birthday next week and I decided that this year I want to go ice skating in Central Park for my birthday. I don't much like birthdays - never have. I don't think I ever had an actual birthday party and I have no particular inclination to break that tradition now.
I have, however, acquired a taste for doing something slightly different around my birthday. A couple of years ago there was the Ski Trip. OK the skiing itself wasn't all that successful for me, but I had a great time anyway, just being there. I liked celebrating my birthday somewhere different and I want to do it again.
Plus, it's a great excuse to not have to organize something here at home - people have a habit of finding out when one has a birthday and insisting on going out for drinks or something and I'm just not really into that idea.

Nope, I'd much rather be out discovering the world and ticking off another box on my "Things To Do Before I Die" list.

So look out, America, I'm coming!!!

*****

And on a completely different note I thought I'd give you an update - remember my old friend from way back, the one I emailed back in December to congratulate him on becoming a father? Well some of you asked so I thought I'd tell you that yes, he replied and even sent a photo of him with his bundle of joy. He hasn't changed a bit in the last decade, from what I could see. So there you have it. I'm not a crazy stalker-woman after all :-)

The Towers

2008-01-06T12:43:00.000Z

The village in which I live out here in the Styx, Ireland, is a small one. There is a village shop, a fresh fruit 'n veg place, a hairdresser, a betting office and a pharmacy. The biggest addition in recent times is a large-ish SuperValu - an actual supermarket, where we can buy almost everything we need to keep the household running. Oh, and of course there are 2 pubs. Perhaps the amount of pubs is the best indication of the size of the village.

It's really nothing special, this village of ours. It's too far from the actual sea to be a seaside town and the surrounding area is mostly farmland. There is one landmark, however, that serves as its claim to fame: an old church with a Round Tower, that dominates the main street and the landscape for miles around.

Don't bother to click on this photo - it was taken at night, the camera hand-held, so it's really blurry, but the small picture gives you some idea of what I'm talking about:

I've intended photographing this building for some time now, and at long last I went out a few nights ago in the freezing cold to do just that, with some success - feel free to click on these for a larger view, they came out much better :-)

A CLOSER LOOK

You may be forgiven for thinking I made a type-o above, when I referred to "A Round Tower", when clearly, there is more than one. Ah but you see, 'tis not so! Only one of the towers attached to this old monastery is an official Round Tower - the one on the right, in the photo below:

The other three towers are just regular old Belfry towers... which I personally think are just as impressive. Turns out, though, that they are mere camouflage for the Historically More Important round tower.

Because apparently the Belfry towers are mere towerlings - built as recently as 1500 perhaps, although nobody really remembers that far back. The Ones In The Know, however, claim that the Round Tower was built in the 6th century. That it is still standing is, I admit, rather impressive.

And that concludes today's history lesson. I'm far too lazy to go and look up more facts for you. Feel free to Google "Irish Round Towers" for more information on these marvels of ancient engineering.
Me, I just wanted to show you the pretty pictures.

Happy New Year!!!

2008-01-02T09:01:00.000Z

What an original title for this post.
I intended writing something yesterday - you know, since it was actually New Year's Day and all. Unfortunately I was dying so I didn't have time. I'd forgotten how nasty champagne can be the day after. My head is still not quite 100% right - haha, very funny. You finished with the wisecracks yet?
Thanks.

So now it's all done - Christmas with all its trimmings, New Year's Day with all its hangovers, and all the Silly Season Festivities before and in between.
Did you all have fun?
Good. 'Cos next Christmas is closer than you think and then you get to do it all again.

Despite the copious amounts of champagne consumed, for some reason it doesn't yet feel like a new year. In fact, it feels pretty much the same as the old one. You know - cold, grey, and OMG I'm gonna be late for work!!!!

Some things just never change.

Doing it for the Kids

2007-12-23T18:49:00.000Z

Today we joined up with a couple of hundred other bikers for a Toy Run - a charity ride where all the scary bikers turn into Santa's Little Helpers by strapping a toy of some sort to their bike and riding to, in this case, a women's shelter to deliver Christmas presents to kids who may not see any other sign of Santa this year.

SANTA'S SLEIGH

We must've been doing a good thing because the Weather Gods were smiling on Dublin today. The overnight ice on the roads had pretty much melted by the time we set off, and the day remained dry and sunny. Well over a hundred bikes gathered in Dorset Street, where a van liberated us of the toys so that we could get down to the serious business of the Mass Ride. It was very late in starting, as Santa himself was over an hour late in getting there and we couldn't very well start without him. Eventually he arrived, all red and jolly, sitting in a sidecar, chauffeured by what appeared to be a Russian (?!) officer, complete with medals on his chest and a furry hat.

SANTA AND HIS CHAUFFEUR

The ride took us through the center of Dublin, down O'Connell Street, around the block and back over the River Liffey onto the Northside quays, up past Dublin Port and along the coastal road to Howth. The procession caused chaos in the traffic - in order for hundreds of bikes to ride together the rest of the traffic, unfortunately, simply has to wait. While the car drivers cursed us, however, everybody else seemed delighted to watch the spectacle.

IN O'CONNELL STREET

I always get a kick out of waving at the kids when we do these mass rides but today I had to relinquish my waving duties to young Cinderella, who was perched on what used to be my seat on the back of Hubby's Blackbird.

Because you see today was the first time I Drove My Own Bike in a mass ride - that's me, below, on the right :-)

LOOK MA, IT'S ME!

Oh and in case you hadn't figured it out yet, the perch on the back of Hubby's Blackbird comes with the added job of being chief photographer.

We stopped at the top of Howth at a pub for some coffee and a well-needed potty break and then the procession headed back into town to its final destination.

Hubby and I didn't complete the trip for logistical reasons - said final destination was on the other side of the city from where we were, and even further from where we live, and it was already heading to sunset by 3:30pm. By the time we got home we were really pleased we'd made that choice - as the sun sank so did the temperatures and we were all shivering through our layers of bad-ass biker clothing when we finally came to a slippery halt outside our front door.
But it sure was a great way to spend a day. Bikers to the bone - always have been, always will be, and wouldn't change it for the world!

The Year That Was

2007-12-20T20:47:00.000Z

So here we are, only 5 days 'till Christmas and then poof! It'll be a whole new year again.

We're hosting Christmas at our house again this year, just with a different set of guests. Our very good friends were with us last year, but since then they have left Ireland and gone back to South Africa, having added the pitter-patter of tiny feet (and the occasional 2am howl) to their little family. So they won't be joining us.

Instead, Hubby's sister and her family have moved from South Africa to Ireland and they'll be driving up to spend a few days with us. My li'l sister will also be over, from London. It'll be good to have family around. It'll be a full house all right, but everyone will have a spot to sleep - I'm really glad we had our attic converted!

With all these guests arriving, there is a ton to be done this weekend, and I don't see much blog-time for myself. So I thought I'd do the reflecting-on-the-year-that-was bit now.

It seems to have been a year of reconnecting with the past.
I took a trip back home to South Africa, only to discover that it doesn't feel so much like home anymore. It's not the place I left 6 years ago, and it's definitely not the same place as the one where I grew up. That place is gone for good, I fear. As heartbreaking as it was to realise this, it was actually a good thing. I think what I got out of that trip was what the experts (?!) call Closure. And it turns out I'm OK with that.

My past caught up with me in another way, too.
In the first quarter of this year, a received a phone call from an old friend: someone I hadn't seen or spoken with in something like twelve years. She'd bumped into my sister in SA - both of them were there on holiday, from London! So she got my number and called me up to say hello. It was fantastic! Unfortunately I lived up to my old habit of leaving things till the last minute, and when I finally got around to phoning her back, she'd left London and headed off to parts unknown and now I've lost her again. Something tells me our paths will cross again, though, sometime in the future.

What's bizarre, though, is that this happened again a few weeks ago. One of my best friends from high school called me up out of the blue. I think the last time we spoke was at our high school reunion, 8 years ago. She, too, is living in the UK. This time I was smarter, and I now have phone numbers AND an email address for her.

I was simply astounded at how easy it was to slip back into conversation with these women, after all the time that had passed. I guess it's true - the friendships you make in your teens are the ones that are there for life.

There was another thing, too.
I had to trawl back through my archives to check this out: 7 months ago, in May, I wrote a post about a dream I'd had about a guy who'd been a good friend of mine throughout primary and high school. At the time I wondered about trying to get in touch with him but decided against it, as the lengths I would have to go to would have bordered on stalker-ish. But today I was reading the local newspaper from my home town, online (I do this occasionally), and I happened upon an announcement in the Classifieds, congratulating him and his wife (I presume) on the birth of their daughter. And in the announcement was his email address. Well I couldn't really not, could I? So I emailed him today, just to say congrats, and Hi. I figured I enjoyed my 'blasts from the past' so maybe he would, too. He's in a way different time zone though, so I have yet to hear back from him. Or not. Either way, that's OK.

And then there is the dreaded F-word.
Facebook. (You thought I was going to say something else, didn't ya?! HAH!)
Talk about reunions! Y'know, it turns out there are some people I actually don't mind finding me. In fact, I've found one or two myself.
More old friendships rekindled - across continents and after years and years.
So we send each other virtual hugs or fling chocolate cakes (or sheep, etc) at each other.
I'm still not completely enamored with Facebook but it is nice to know that people are thinking of me occasionally. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
You know - to counteract the spitting irritation I feel the rest of the time 'cos there's too much stuff on it that I don't know what to do with.

But I digress.

There's more on this Old Friends theme.
In October, we had a visit from my ex-boss from SA. He and his wife also happen to be old biking buddies of ours from way back when. They were only over for a few days but it was fabulous to see them... plus, it was a good excuse for me to get to eat out at my favourite Greek restaurant.

And finally, a few weekends ago, we had visitors over from Holland. He and Hubby go way, way back - they left SA just before we did. We stopped in to visit them on our trip around Europe last year, and now it was their turn to visit us. We had a blast - went off to watch the SA / Wales game in a pub in town, a drinking session that lasted way longer than it should have but we were having too much fun to care!

So what is the moral of all this rambling?
There isn't one.
If you were looking for deep and meaningful, you've come to the wrong place.
ahahahahaha!

ahem

Well OK then...
I've had some ups and downs, and even seen a bit more of the world this year (remember Barcelona and Paris?) Most of all, though, I have come to appreciate just how much family and friends mean to me.
And that includes all of you guys.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

The loop-de-loop

2007-12-17T08:34:00.000Z

You know that feeling when your tummy does a flip-flop, like when you're passenger in a car and you're not paying attention and suddenly the car goes through a dip and it feels like your stomach got left behind? Well I feel like that's been happening to me, only it's not really my stomach but something less physical and more emotional, but in more or less the same place in my body. I'll be quite happily going along, doing my thing, living my day and all of a sudden I'll get one of these moments, where it feels like I'm on a roller-coaster and if I carry on going my emotions are going to dive, dive, dive submarine-style into the murky depths... at times like these my loved ones are my salvation. I will stop typing whatever command I'm busy with at my computer, pick up the phone and ring Hubby just to hear a voice and gather some sense of normalcy. Or I'll write a 2-line nonsensical email to my mom, or a friend, or a sister.
You see the last few months have been tough going, again. If I'm honest, I never really recovered 100% from my last extended period of depression - I had short stints of normalcy but I think it takes a long time to get past it completely and I feel like it's still so fresh in my mind that it doesn't take much to send me back there, and then it's such a hard fight to come back again. I'm back at the moment, for the most part. That is, I have a handle on things and am able to keep the niggling shadows at bay. Today I went to lunch with a large group of people from work and found myself sitting with two women I don't know except to nod hello at in passing, since we work in the same department. And I made it all the way through, making conversation and being a veritable social butterfly. I'm a tad exhausted now, but I feel a sense of accomplishment, although I'm not sure exactly when being sociable became such hard work.
I can't help but wonder will there ever be a time when being normal¹ will be the natural order of things again - or will I be fighting like this for the rest of my life..? I don't want to be on the rollercoaster anymore, I just want to live, and enjoy life. These pesky emotions are becoming a real pain in the ass, I tellya.
I suppose it's that time of year. 'Tis the season and all that - there's excitement in the buildup to the holidays but also sadness as we miss absent friends and family.
I mean, I know emotions are what make us human and all, but wouldn't it be nice if we could just take a break from them, occasionally?

~~~
~~
~

¹ Yeah, yeah, I know - It's a relative term..!

winter wonderland

2007-12-10T17:59:00.000Z

I'd forgotten how cold it gets in this place in Winter. It was probably around 3 degrees outside when I rode to work this morning; in fact I would guess that would be optimistic. I only started riding a motorcycle last winter and because I was still learning, I was only going as far as the train station and back. The full trips into the City only started in about April, when the days were longer and the weather relatively warmer. I have been loving the freedom of having my own transport, being able to come and go as is convenient to me and not being a slave to train timetables.
This morning, though, I began to seriously consider returning to my old ways of driving just the kilometer or so to the train station instead. It could've been my imagination but I thought the road felt just a tad more slippery this morning than it should have. Could it be the days of black ice are almost upon us? I just don't know if I feel up to facing 25km each way on roads that could turn into a skating rink without warning. It's been pretty tough the last few weeks anyway as it's now always dark on both journeys, to and from work. It has been aggravated by stupidly strong winds and lashing rain, at times; not exactly optimal driving conditions, to say the least.
All credit to my biking gear, though, I can honestly say the cold has not been a problem... except for the hands. I bought thicker gloves a while back but this morning I may as well have been bare handed and by the time I got into town and finally came to a stop at a red light where I could drop my hands down to warm up next to the engine, they were completely numb from the cold. Not fun.
So as much as I don't want to, I think the time may have arrived for me to choose discretion over valor and return to the trains for a while.
Yet another reason for me to hate winter in this place!

I think that's why people go so overboard with Christmas decorations. It can be so bloody miserable here, but the pretty lights and various baubles do go a long way in brightening things up. Even young Cinderella has twigged on this now - yesterday morning she and Hubby took it upon themselves to dig out all our Christmas decorations from their hidey-holes in the attic and haul the whole lot downstairs. She then proceded to find our "Christmas Greats" double CD and enthusiastically took the lead in decorating the tree while singing along to all the Christmas hits that are currently playing non-stop in shopping malls and on radio stations everywhere. I was unfortunately under the influence of some serious painkillers in an attempt to rid myself of a migraine (not induced by coffee this time - where will it end?!) so I had a hard time keeping up. It was like sharing a house with two Tazmanian devils... Hubby even had the hammer and nails out and we are the first house in our cul-de-sac to have icicle-lights strung from our little porch. Not only that, our front door is now also sporting a pretty and festive-looking Christmas wreath.

It's a far cry from last Christmas, where Miss Muffett wanted to cringe at the very thought of anything other than just a Christmas tree, using words like 'kitsch' and such like with a look akin to horror on her face.
Yep, someone has discovered the joys of Christmas spirit.
I wonder if that will extend to helping out with Christmas dinner..?

undeserved award

2007-12-02T15:00:00.000Z

Despite my posts being somewhat erratic lately, it seems some people are keeping the faith. Which is good, 'cos I gotta say mine is a little shaky at times.
Angel, who has been a regular reader here for ages has seen fit to create her very own special award - and I am one of the lucky few first recipients!

Angel, you're a peach :-)
Thank you for not giving up on me and for the many hours of entertaining reading you have given to me in Blogland.

xxx

And in other news:
It's cold. Really cold. Probably as a result of it being Winter again. Sheesh, I was still holding out for the Summer that never really arrived and BAM! Here's Winter.
Not only that - it's only something silly like three weeks till Christmas. I found my weekly groceries peppered with things like mince pies and Christmas crackers this morning. As if that's not enough, I found myself pumping up the volume on the radio while I was packing said groceries in my kitchen afterwards, when one of those super-spicy energetic Christmas songs came on.
Hubby and Cinderella were completely unfazed by this little display of festive spirit, staying safely tucked away with their respective computer games / movie watching and leaving me to prance around like a reindeer on speed all by myself, with nothing but Cornflakes for company.

As images go, that's not a great one, I'll admit. So I'll leave you with this one instead - they've decorated the trees along the quay with purple and blue lights and it just looks so darn pretty as dawn is breaking I simply had to stop to take a picture.

fleeting thoughts

2007-11-15T13:14:00.000Z

Why d'you suppose our spam filter blocked a plain text email from me to a friend of mine asking how her mother was, yet this morning there was an html message with the words "puffy penis" in the title waiting for me from someone called... actually I can't remember 'cos I deleted it without paying too much attention.

And another thing; our firewall seems to have a mind of its own. Yesterday I couldn't leave comments on blogs but today I can. Yes I know I said I won't be blogging from work anymore but what can I say? I have no self-control.

It was raining this morning when I was riding to work. Traffic wasn't great and visibility was poor since daylight had only just begun to think about putting in an appearance. In these conditions I take it slow because even with my high-viz vest I know that drivers are less likely to see a girl on a motorcycle than they otherwise might be.
Two things happened.
One, I almost missed my turnoff. For the first time since I started riding the bike (about 9 months ago) my subconscious took over driving for a while. There is a stretch of around 2.5km of motorway that I do not remember riding this morning. My mind was on something else completely. They say that's a good thing, because apparently your subconscious drives better than your conscious but I found it a little scary.

The second thing was completely unrelated. On a bike, you're much more in touch with your surroundings; you feel the cold (or warmth, as the case may be, though not in Dublin very often) and you smell the scents of your surroundings. For me, it is always the smells that do it and this morning I was suddenly transported back to Jeffreys Bay in the summertime, in the rain because although it was freezing outside (unlike J-Bay in the summertime!) there was something about the smell, like salty sea air (again, very unusual in Dublin) mixed with the smell of rain and I could smell the vegetation on the sand dunes and hear the endless swooshing of the waves on the sand, and I was filled with young love and enthusiasm and life. Our summer holidays in Jeffreys Bay when I was a teenager were some of the happiest times of my life. Sun, fun and summer romances, bonfires on the beach at night with friends I thought would be there forever.
The sensation lasted about 30 seconds and then I was belched on by a bus.
Sure, we grab the moments when we can.

At the risk of repeating myself...

2007-11-13T13:53:00.000Z

Do you want to know what really annoys me? Well I'm going to tell you anyway.
I am sick to death of people sending me guilt emails. You know the ones: the hard luck stories, designed to bring a tear to your eye and make you feel guilty about every good thing that's ever happened to you and every cent you ever earned. I'm not sure what their purpose is.
Some will tell you the email is being tracked so you must send it to everyone you know.

NEWS FLASH: THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS EMAIL TRACKING AND AOL / MICROSOFT ARE NOT GOING TO GIVE YOU MONEY EVEN IF YOU SEND THE THING TO A MILLION PEOPLE!!!

The only thing you're doing is clogging up my mailbox with yet more crap.
Those that don't, well, I truly don't see their purpose. Trying to spread goodwill? It's not working. I just get pissed off because I feel like someone is trying to guilt me into giving to charity, or going to Church more often, or for feeling down when "there are people so much worse off than me".
I am perfectly entitled to feel depressed for my very own reasons, even if I don't have a third eye or a dying budgie.

You know what else? I don't want to hear about little Mary and her leg that fell off. It doesn't bring a tear to my eye - it brings a curse to my lips for wasting my time! Why must I feel guilty about fictitious peoples' hard luck stories... because no matter how many times they tell you "This is a true story!!!" ... chances are it's bullshit. Someone made it up. I have yet to figure out why but there you go.

What, you don't believe me? Here's a challenge:
For the next ten emails of hard luck emails, go check it out. It's fairly simple: just ask Google. The quickest way is to put a line from the email in quotes in the search box, and add the word "hoax" at the end.

Spread the word folks - but not by email, for goodness' sake; chances are some eejit would add a curse to the end of it, like "Send this to everyone in your address book in the next 30 seconds or the Terrible Terri is going to plant a virus in your RAM!".
And then I would have perpetuated yet another useless chain-mail.
Now THAT would make me feel guilty!

technological advancements

2007-11-03T17:18:00.000Z

I've had some technological woes just lately. I think it probably started when our TV died but that actually turned out to be a good thing as we're now the proud owners of a fancy-schmancy flat-screen LCD TV instead.

And then there was my new laptop. I wanted to love it, I really did. It's all sleek and shiny, and really quiet - you hardly hear it running at all. And it's fast, too. I no longer have time to boil the kettle and make ~~coffee~~ decaf while it boots up, and my email opens in a flash.
But...
I've had intermittent problems, mostly surrounding the wireless broadband / internet. I noticed that sometimes the internet was really slow - I was genuinely surprised that I actually got my photos of our trip to SA uploaded to Flickr the other night. I almost just gave up.

The night before that I was ready to throw the "bloody new-fangled thing with all it's fancy new bits and pieces" out the window because the wireless broadband just would. not. work. And it wasn't the router, because young Cinderella had no problems with her connection... using the wireless card from MY old laptop (how annoyed was I?!). I even uninstalled Norton Internet Suite because I thought it might have had something to do with the auto-update it had run the night before, but no, it was just not working. The fact that the LAN connection worked fine should've given me a hint but by that stage I was too far gone to think straight.

But then on Thursday night I switched the offending machine back on and started from scratch and chose to follow my favourite motto:

WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS, READ THE INSTRUCTIONS.^[1]

And when I found the e-manual and browsed to the "Wireless Networking" section, the first thing I saw was a diagram. Item 5 was labelled "Wireless Networking on/off switch".
D'OH! I must have unknowingly flipped it to Off when I was putting the machine in it's bag... a quick flip of the little sliding button about 2mm to the right and hey, presto! My wireless net began working again.

Terri - 1
Technology Gremlins - Zero!

So that was one problem solved.
Today I decided it was time to look at this intermittent performance issue. I reinstalled the Norton software because honestly it didn't make a noticeable difference and I don't want the cyber-aliens abducting my data and performing nasty experiments on it when I'm not looking.

I searched all the settings I could find in both Firefox and the Norton stuff. I downloaded IE7 and checked all those settings too. Luckily it made no difference whether I used Firefox or IE - they were both dog-slow. I couldn't even open my own blog - how bad is that??!
And then something went PING! in my head^[2] and I went back to the wireless network settings that I had spent so much time looking at during the week. Sure enough, there it was - one little slider that I moved from "min" to "max"... the one that controls throughput vs saving battery life. Screw the battery - gimme Megs!!!
So this message may pop up a little (?!) sooner than it did before. I can live with that.

Terri - 2
Technology Gremlins - still Zero!

You may applaud :-)

~~~
~~
~

^[1] Yes, that really IS my motto. I hate reading instructions - I'm a true Techie at heart.

^[2] Not literally, of course.

disjointed thoughts

2007-11-01T19:07:00.000Z

You'd have been forgiven for thinking world war 3 had broken out last night with the amount of fireworks and bonfires and screeching that filled the air. The screeching, of course, was entirely that of young children dressed up as ghouls and fairies, madly excited about trick-or-treating for Halloween. Hubby was almost as excited, happily handing out sweeties to the youngsters (already on a sugar rush - pity the poor parents!).
Thank heavens it's over now.

I'm multi-tasking in a big way at the moment - hastily typing up a long overdue blog post, trying to upload pictures to Flickr (if the website ever decides to load) and going through a list of stuff on Facebook as long as my arm. (Why, oh why, did I ever sign up for the thing??! Me being the conscientious person that I am, no matter how many times I tell myself to just not log in again I just can't help myself. Pfft!)
And at the same time as all of that I'm trying to cook dinner.
Talk about spreading myself too thin...!

In other news, the new laptop is doing well - most of the time. The display is great for photos and it boots up really fast (certainly compared to my old 733mhz no-name-brand!) but for some reason the internet is really slow sometimes. And that REALLY annoys me. I'm inclined to blame the Norton internet suite, which I didn't use previously, but I just can't be sure... it's a Techie's worst nightmare and you know how notoriously bad techies are at fixing their own stuff.

I'm battling to keep up the blog. I seem to have lost the urge to write. Or take photos. The ones I want to upload to Flickr tonight (if the internet decides to play with) are those I took in South Africa in July!!! "Better late than never" seems to be becoming a theme in my life.
I seem to have lost the urge to do a lot of things. But I still enjoy riding my bike - I reckon the trips to and from work are the highlight in my life at the moment.

So anyway, if it means anything I do think of you guys. If Big Brother wasn't watching my every move at work I'm sure I'd be doing a better job of keeping in touch. Yah, I know, excuses excuses and all that.
Sorry.
I do miss you all though. And I'm sure I'll be back on form again at some point so don't give up on me, OK?

Champions of the World!!

2007-10-21T17:13:00.000+01:00

Congratulations Bokke!!!

I knew you could do it :-)

Ready, Steady, Go Boys Go!!!

2007-10-20T13:48:00.000+01:00

A Keg of beer?
check
A Sixpack of beer as backup just in case?
check
A couple of bottles of Old Brown Sherry?
check
Smokes?
check
Biltong and Niknaks?
check
A bottle of Klipdrift and some Coke?
check
Garlic bread, salads and boerewors for the braai? check

Rugby World Cup Final match between my beloved Springboks and England?
check!

We're ready, boys, and so are you - Go get 'em!!!!

GO BOKKE!!!!!

more spor-attic blogging

2007-10-11T08:46:00.000+01:00

{ahem}

Is anybody still there? I feel I should apologise for my absence from Blogland the last few weeks. It's not that nothing has been happening in my life, or that I've had nothing to say... I just haven't really had the urge to say it.

My biggest grip is that our browsing habits are officially being monitored at work and although I know it may be too late I really don't need everyone (or anyone!) in my office poking around on my blog. So I am abstaining during working hours.
Giving up coffee was easier!

So let's see, is there anything important I've neglected to tell you?
I got a new laptop - shiny new Fujitsu Siemens Amilo with all sorts of bells & whistles. It's lovely although I have some residual nagging guilt that it's a mild case of overkill for me. How many processors does one need, really, for blogging and email? Although the display & graphics are great so perhaps some more frequent photo editing will be accomplished.
(Let's pretend for now that I haven't only switched the thing on twice in the last two weeks, shall we?)

We also got a new TV. And no, we didn't win the lottery - the old one died a sudden death last week, a day before the quarter-finals of the Rugby World Cup so there was just no question of waiting. The credit card is looking a little withered but there is a sleek new flat-screen LCD screen decorating the corner of the lounge now. I think Hubby thinks all his Christmases have come at once.

Speaking of financial drains, I promised a while back that I would show you what our attic conversion was all about, so here you go, the photos as promised:

BEFORE - THE FIRST FLOOR LANDING WITH
PULL-DOWN STAIRS LEADING TO ATTIC

sorry it's a bit blurry ;-)

AFTER- THE FIRST FLOOR LANDING WITH
NEW STAIRCASE LEADING UP

BEFORE - LOOKING EAST

AFTER - LOOKING EAST

BEFORE - LOOKING WEST

AFTER - LOOKING WEST

Pretty nifty, don't you think? Well worth having the house overrun with overall-clad leprachauns and coated in dust for a week or so.

I can't C!

2007-09-26T17:54:00.000+01:00

Last week I got a headache. I've been getting them fairly regularly for the last couple of years - intense, blinding headaches that stay for at least 2 days and then disappear as suddenly as they appeared. Headaches that amplify all noises and make it difficult to see; Headaches that make it feel as if my head is going to explode.
Hubby has been pushing me to go see a doctor, just in case there's a pumpkin growing in my head, or something.

So when this one attacked I decided to do something about it - but I went to the chiropractor, not the doctor. We'll leave that as a last resort^[1]. Besides, surely some tlc from the magic chiro would be able to sort it out?!
Well, a good long massage and a few adjustments in my neck certainly helped to relieve a large portion of the tension I had no idea I was feeling. The bad news is that he told me that it wasn't just a tension headache, but in fact a migraine. I'd been suspecting this but hoping it wasn't, because I've heard those can be quite nasty. After taking his advice to lie down in a quiet, dark room with a cold compress on my pip for relief, I was persuaded to acknowledge that perhaps he was right. OK, so now it has a name and the likliehood of me sprouting vegetables from my ears is no longer a possibility, my mind is at rest a bit.
The thing to do now is figure out what is causing them and how to avoid them.
Trouble is, apparently the 3 things most likely to cause or aggravate a migraine are coffee, cheese and chocolate.

YIKES!!!

Coffee and cheese are 2 of my staple diet items - the chocolate I'm not too concerned with, as I don't often have a chocoloate except in emergencies when PMS hits and then, oh boy, just you TRY and stop me munching an Aero..!
The upshot is, I'm a little deflated - coming down from a 5-year caffeine buzz, since the last time I went without coffee was about 5 years back when I did a bit of a detox diet. I'm fooling myself by drinking a couple of mugs of decaf which is sort of working, although the brewing-coffee smell that fills the office first thing in the morning is almost enough to make me mug (haha!) someone for a cup.
I was more or less forced to have cheese on my sandwich for lunch yesterday (that'll teach me to wait until the last minute to go in search of food) but the killer was this morning, when I ambled over to the coffee station to get myself a cup of decaf and there, strewn across the table, were dozens of shiny, enticing chocolates there for the taking.

This is not going to be easy.

~~~
~~
~

^[1] I'm quite happy to make like an Ostrich.

hello again

2007-09-20T08:37:00.000+01:00

My mother used to say that if you can't find something nice to say, then say nothing.^[1]

Not that this has anything to do with why I've been m.i.a. for the past two weeks or so, I just thought I'd share that with you and it seemed like a good opening line.

Truth is, I just didn't feel like blogging. That is, I didn't feel like writing a blog post. Or comments. I have done a teensy bit of lurking though, just in case you thought you could get away with anything in my alleged absence.

Besides which, nothing terribly exciting has happened in the last couple of weeks. The attic conversion is done and looks great, and once I have it all cleaned up I'll post the 'before' and 'after' pics because I know you're all just hanging on the edge of your seats to see them.
Aside from that there has been work, work and more work, pathetic attempts at housework and some shopping not really worth mentioning.

The highlight of it all was definitely watching my beloved Springboks beat England in last Friday night's Rugby World Cup game. Not just beat, but annihalate, really, with a final score of 36-0. It's enough to make a girl's heart swell with pride and cause her to drink too much beer.

There was an Australian, a Frenchwoman, an Italian, two South Africans, a Swede and another Frenchman who all went out to watch the greyhound races. You'd be forgiven for thinking this is the start of a joke but actually that's what we did last Saturday evening. Next time I go I'll take a heavier coat and wear sensible shoes.
The dogs are cute - all wagging tails and muzzles, chasing the fake rabbit around the track until it disappears into a little metal box, at which point they all stop and sniff the ground a lot.

Anyway, I think my little break from blogging is coming to an end - thanks Angel, for kicking my ass on that one with your last comment :-)
I shall pull myself towards myself and be back to enchant you shortly...

~~~
~~
~

^[1] At least I think it was my mother.

Monday Ramblings

2007-09-03T13:22:00.000+01:00

It's official. I don't like Facebook.
There are all these things you can do, see, like compare your friends to each other in different categories... and what's the category I get "Most ___" in?
Most Studious.
I give up.

In other news, my house is overrun with strange men in overalls. Actually, not so much overalls as jeans and paint(?)- stained T-shirts. I volunteered to take a week off work^[1] so that I could stay home and babysit the builders we've hired to convert our attic into a habitable space. By the end of the week we should have a large room upstairs with windows and everything. Photos will follow, of course.
I must confess, though, I feel a bit like an intruder in my own home today. And it's slightly disconcerting to be sitting comfortably in my lounge attempting to appear nonchalant, with the sounds of someone cutting holes in my roof - punctuated with occasional raucous man-laughter - assaulting my ears.

I had grandiose ideas of spending my whole week writing. Well so far, you've just read the fruits of my labour. Because first I had to do the laundry, of course. And then there was a pile of ironing to do because it was cluttering up the space where I wanted to sit and write. Although I'm not sitting there now because by the time I'd finished the ironing, the sun had moved overhead and so was no longer streaming in through the windows like it was earlier.

Aahh, there ya go... nothing like the sweet sound of an angle-grinder and men yelling to each other to get the creative juices flowing...
~~~
~~
~

^[1]A difficult decision, to be sure.

A Knight in Gleaming Armour

2007-08-29T20:13:00.000+01:00

There I was this morning, zooting along on my nice shiny new big motorcycle, laughing as I passed the cars that were stuck in a traffic jam stretching from the city centre all the way out to where I join the motorway, about 18km outside of Dublin. Biking is great - being stuck in traffic is pretty much a thing of the past.

And then something weird happened; I opened the throttle a bit and where the engine should have revved, nothing happened. There was a slight jerk, and then it took again, then another slight jerk and the engine pretty much died. When I initially realised something wasn't right I had moved over to the edge of the road, so when I stopped I wasn't causing an obstruction.

"Waaaah! My bike's broken!!!" was my first reaction.

Because, you see, at first I'd thought I'd done something silly like run out of petrol. There's no petrol gauge on the new bike so it's hard to tell. But I'd checked the tank last night when I got home and I could see what looked like plenty of petrol in there. So surely it couldn't be that?

I had only just stopped and was still turning the key in the ignition when another biker pulled over in front of me to see if I was OK; when I shrugged to indicate I wasn't sure what the problem was, he dismounted from and came over to take a look.
I found myself looking into bewitching blue eyes, and a silky voice with a French accent asked, "Is it gas? Do you have a Reserve switch?"

{gulp!}

It's unreal how quickly an intelligent, educated, 35-year-old wife turns into an airhead blonde in the presence of a hot, leather-clad Frenchman with smoldering baby-blues..!
I pointed in the general direction of somewhere under my seat, he flipped a switch, leaned over and with a masterful flick of the wrist, restarted my bike.

I smiled, embarrassed, with a lame, "It's a new bike..."
He smiled back kindly and suggested I find a petrol station.

moving along swiftly

2007-08-28T19:28:00.000+01:00

At first I was afraid - I was petrified,
Kept thinking I could never really learn to ride a bike.
But then I spent all summer long
riding back and forth to work and I grew strong,
and I learned how to move along

I made it through,
I did the deed,
and now it's time for me to move onto a bigger steed.
The little one it was okay
but it's too small for motorways
and so I got myself this beauty, ain't it gorgeous, watcha say..?

Yep, I've graduated!
To a Suzuki GS500.
The final straw was when I was rudely pushed into the yellow line along the motorway not so long ago by a truck. I had no choice - my 125cc bike just didn't have the oomf to get me out of the way any other way and the truck driver was pretty single-minded about wanting to be where I was.

When I first test-drove the new one two weekends ago I thought, "Nothing this much fun could possibly be legal!"
But it is - it's street-legal, and learner-legal, and it seems there is absolutely no reason for me not to have it. I really did need the extra power. Half of my daily commute is on the motorway and I need a top speed of over 100kph to be safe.

But yes, I confess, the throaty growl and zippy acceleration were what actually sold me....
And it's purty, dontcha think?!

Six years, six things

2007-08-24T22:43:00.000+01:00

Six years ago today two incredibly good-looking (if somewhat clueless) South Africans stepped off a 'plane at Dublin airport for the first time. They had been married a mere 6 months and since the wedding their lives had taken on a whole new and rather unexpected direction. Their cars, motorcycle, house and all it's contents had been sold, debts settled and farewells bidden. They had with them a grand total of IR£3500, which was all they had in the world apart from their clothes and a few boxes which were neatly (sort-of) packed in corners and garages of various relatives' homes.
It was the beginning of a new life; their aim was to settle in Ireland and move forward. Their cash was enough to maintain them for 3 months, at the most. It was make-or-break time.

The short version is that at the end of 3 months, they thought it was "break". 9/11 happened, the job market froze and they were down to their last week's worth of grocery money... and then one of them found work. And from there things started moving forwards.

Six years on and I'm pleased to say it turned out to be "make". To the point where they often turn to each other and smile, giving thanks for how lucky they are.
They have all the trappings they left behind in their homeland, and more.

In honour of the day, I thought I'd share with you six random things:

1. There is, in fact, good reason for all those Irish jokes you hear.

2. The reason Ireland is known as the Emerald Isle is because the fields and grass are greener here than you would ever believe possible.

3. The reason the fields and grass are so green is because it's pretty much always raining!

4. The Irish are the friendliest and most fun-loving nation I have encountered.

5. Guinness really is good for you!

6. Places like those you see in TV programmes like "Ballykissangel" and "Father Ted" really do exist in this day and age.

Thanks, Ireland. You've been good to us.

saying nothing

2007-08-23T08:27:00.000+01:00

She plops down in front of her laptop, rubs her hands together and then stares at the screen, hands poised for when the moment strikes; the moment when pure genius inspiration will flow from her soul through her fingertips as they fly over the keyboard.

But... nothing.
Only five more minutes before she simply must switch off the laptop and pack it back in its bag (because of course leaving it out just would not do - far too untidy) and the pressure is getting to her. Because she has to write something today. It's been over a week since the last one and since then - nothing. No clever thoughts; no funny anecdotes (except for the guy in the canteen last week who had a piece of toilet-paper trailing from the back of his trousers but really, how much can be said about that?).

Two minutes to go and she's staring out of the window, wondering if the cat perched on the wall is going to pounce on whatever it's stalking in the neighbour's yard, or not.
It doesn't. Instead, it stalks off further along the wall that stretches from yard to yard all the way down to the end of the lane.

Time's up now. She sighs and sniffs, defeated.
Oh well, tomorrow is another day.

sometimes

2007-08-16T08:23:00.000+01:00

Sometimes I just need someone to tell me it's OK, that I am good at my job, that I am good enough, that something terrible isn't going to happen just because things are going well at the moment...

It's like this, you see:
I was really glad to be back after our holiday. I was happy to be in my own house again, and to be back into routine. And then I started having weird dreams. I'd dream about my step-son who is still in SA. I dreamt I was dying of cancer. I dreamt someone stabbed me to death. I dreamt about my grandmother. And I was convinced something bad was going to happen.

Something bad did, in fact - the father of an ex-boyfriend passed away last Friday. I was really sad to hear about this. I met his son when I was only 15 and we dated for over a year. I spent loads of time at their house and went away on holiday with the family. When my boyfriend was drafted into the army, his parents took me with them to visit him on "Parents' Weekend" at the end of his basic training. This man was one of the nicest I've ever known. Growing up without a father, I used to feel very uncomfortable around my friends' fathers. I didn't really know what they were about. But I never felt uncomfortable around Bob and he will have left a hole in the world. It is probably years since I saw him but I mourn him a little nonetheless.

And the sane part of me is telling the crazy part of me not to read anything into my weird dreams.

Actually I think most of my angst is work-related. We have a Contractor in at work as our little team is a man down at the moment and until someone is hired permanently we have a string of highly experienced and knowledgeable DBA's filling the seat next to mine.
All this does is make me realise how limited my own knowledge and experience are.
Bah humbug - just when I thought I was doing well..!

And on a completely unrelated topic, last night I forewent (Is there such a word? Past tense of "forego"?) watching a movie with Hubby in favour of sitting down for some uninterrupted and dedicated blogging. Well, blog-reading to be more accurate. It was fun. Lots of fun. You guys are quite entertaining, y'know that? I kept getting dirty looks from Hubby 'cos at one point I was laughing so hard the tears were rolling down my cheeks, during what appeared to be a Very Serious Moment in the movie.
Oops ;-)
I haven't had a couple of hours to read blogs in ages and it reminded me why I do this thing.

So thanks, all of you.

well colour me surprised

2007-08-13T21:03:00.000+01:00

Following on last week's revalation that I am rapidly approaching middle age* I decided yesterday that it was time (again) to disguise the most obvious symptom of this condition.

I found it mildly disconcerting when some of my hair colouring creme splashed onto the bathroom wall and promptly stripped the paint right down to brick. Well okay, it's not really brick but I can't bring myself to acknowledge that we are separated from our neighbours by little more than glorified cardboard.
That aside, I'm thinking that hair must be pretty robust stuff if it willingly copes with chemicals that literally strip paint off walls... and even comes out shiny and bouncy on the other side!

And in case you were wondering the answer is Yes; blondes do have more fun.**
~

* See how I've cleverly convinced myself that I'm not actually there yet?
** More fun than grey-haired middle-aged women, at least, I'm sure.

older and wiser

2007-08-07T23:17:00.000+01:00

I was chatting with a couple of colleagues this morning - the conversation went something like this:

[Terri] "Hey, L, can you give me the name of the people who did your attic conversion? They did a great job and we're thinking of getting ours done."
[L] "Sure, it was (xyz) - they have a website so you can look them up. They're very professional."
[W] "You know, ladies, this is a very middle-aged conversation you're having, hahaha!"
And we all laughed.
And then I asked (still chuckling), "OK so what is middle-aged, officially?"
[W] "Well I suppose mid- to late thirties."

Uh, back up here. Are you trying to tell me I am officially Middle Aged???! When da hell did dat happen?!
I suppose the fact that young Cinderella turns 17 tomorrow should have given me a hint. That and the fresh crop of grey hairs over my right temple (why only the right?!) which I've been steadfastly convincing myself are actually blonde, not grey. Ahem.

However, I cannot really complain about growing older, as my wisdom apparently has no bounds... [insert raucous laughter here]...

Hubby and I decided that since this past weekend was a long weekend we would take a drive down to County Cork. You may recall we have made numerous trips to Cork to visit our good friends in the past. Well those good friends went back to SA a couple of months back, but as if on a relay system, Hubby's sister and her family have taken the plunge and moved over to Ireland - County Cork, to be precise.

Welcome to Ireland, guys!!!

So on Friday evening we packed the car and after several false starts ("Forgot the camera!", "Forgot my phone!","Forgot the directions to their place!") we hit the long and winding road to Cork.
Some of you may also recall that last summer, on our famous (though as yet un-written-about - sorry 'bout that!) bike trip around Europe, we occasionally took a wrong turn. This prompted Hubby to declare that life was not complete without a handy little Sat-Nav / GPS thingy. Having bugger-all imagination when it comes to gift-giving, I bought him one for Christmas. My position as Family Navigator had been usurped but who am I to argue? Even I must admit defeat; after all, Paris and Brussels are indeed nowhere near each other.

So there we were, happily driving along on the big N8 road down to Cork, and Mr SatNav in all his wisdom decided that we should take a left. Personally, I would've elected to go straight but sure, it's a clever little piece of equipment, right? Perhaps it knows something we don't. Besides, we weren't heading for Cork City, but for a (much) smaller town on the coast, east of the city.
The roads narrowed, then twisted. We didn't mind - it was really pretty and we had made good time so far. We were happy to take the road less travelled. It began to rain, but we weren't too concerned, after all, life is an adventure, right?

And then as the road steepened and narrowed even more as it climbed a mountain I confess I had no idea existed, the windscreen wipers sort of ground to a halt.

We stopped at a lay-by to see if there was anything obvious like a loose wire and of course while we were staring blankly at the Audi's engine compartment a Local in a van pulled up and with a smirk at our smart car and blank faces, asked if we needed a lift. You could see he was thinking, "Eejit Townies, stuck out here in the back o' beyond and not a clue how to fix their fancy car."

THIS IS WHAT THE BACK-OF-BEYOND LOOKS LIKE
FROM THE TOP OF A MOUNTAIN
IN THE RAIN

We smiled and said no-thanks, shut the hood, smoked a cigarette and continued along our not-so-merry way. The road continued to worsen, as did the rain. I left the radio off - somehow in the gloomy, misty half-light in what can only be described as Deliverance country, music seemed out of place.
I was making like the co-pilots in the rally cars... "Sharp left in 5-4-3-2-1... Mind the sheep!"

Eventually we neared civilisation again, I turned on the radio and the rain lightened up. And the car screamed at us in it's peculiar electronic voice, causing me to almost dive for cover. Hubby grinned and pulled into another lay-by, confidently telling me that he'd been expecting this.
"This" turned out to be a low-on-coolant situation but being the boy-scout that he is, he had a jerry-can of water in the back. Apparently the water-pump has a minor (?) leak.
So we topped up and set off... and about 2km down the road the windscreen wipers suddenly creaked back to life. By the time we reached our destination they were working as if nothing had ever been wrong.
El-GPS, however, had been well and truly abandoned for a good old-fashioned paper road map, which yours-truly used to ensure we stayed on main roads for the rest of the trip.

Pah! to these new-fangled electronic gadgets, I say!

And on the subject of weather - this is what our Irish summer looks like from the side-mirror of our trusty (?!) Audi...

Sunscreen, anyone?

Better late than never

2007-07-31T08:24:00.000+01:00

Well my goodness aren't I just the little Energizer bunny? Last Friday I made a list of what I wanted to get done over the weekend and I very nearly did it all, 'cept the shopping trip took longer than expected so I had a good excuse for the one or two things I didn't get done.
I'm wearing my new shoes today, btw. They look great!

So last night I finally got working on my photos, starting with those from Paris - take a look at what I've uploaded to flickr so far.
If it weren't for this pesky having-to-work thing, I would have a lot more up there but oh well, what can you do, eh?

Y'know, I knew I needed a holiday before, but I had no idea just how much of a difference it would make. I'm STILL in a good mood, and have enough energy to do stuff other than drag myself to work and back every day. Which is surprising, because it's not like I'm sitting with nothing to do. If that were the case I would have blogged again before now, in the last week! Perhaps it helped that my appointment at the Chiropracter on Saturday morning involved a massage, too, of the variety that made me want to offer to pay double if he would just keep it up a little longer. The massage, that is - get your minds out the gutter!

So perhaps that's the answer: 3 weeks' holiday, followed by a massage, then work for a week or two at the most, then start again.

Anyone else want to join my club?

back to reality

2007-07-24T17:45:00.000+01:00

Oddly enough I was actually not devastated to come home to Dublin this time. That is not to say I didn't howl like it was the end of the world when we said goodbye to my Mom and stepson at the airport on Friday evening because I did. So much so that I set Cinderella off too... and I could've sworn I even saw Hubby's eyes well up. Hardly surprising, I suppose, since he had his two favourite girls sobbing on his shoulders at the same time in the departures lounge.
But once I'd recovered from that, I was OK. In fact I was actually glad to be back in our own house again (and my back was most pleased to see my own bed). I may not have exactly skipped off to work yesterday morning but I didn't want to stick a poker in my eye over it either. Perhaps getting to ride my bike again helped. [Insert Cheshire cat grin here.]

So what can I tell you about the holiday? The weather was fantastic - sunshine and blue skies for all but 2 days of our 3 weeks there, and warm enough to wear T-shirts. Except at night when it actually got quite cold and the houses in SA wouldn't know double-glazing or central heating if it hit them in the facias. But it was certainly an improvement over our Irish summer (53 consecutive days of rain, so I've been told!).

In some ways it was like we had never left, after just a couple of days there. In other ways it was like a flashback to a previous life. And somewhere along the way something settled in my soul. It's really difficult to explain but it's as if something has been resolved inside of me, something that was causing conflict before; I am now genuinely OK with not moving back there. It feels good.

We partied with our friends and yes, karaoke was involved. You can check out the evidence over at Oodlesofnoodlesoffun.
We had a highly entertaining (and rather extended) lunch with both the aforementioned Buddess and another blogger, Katt, with whom some of you may already be familiar.
We ate braaivleis (BBQ) and seafood until we were hankering for no more than a sandwich.
We sat in the sun at every opportunity and I'm pleased to say I no longer look like a corpse.
I even read a book from start to finish.

I also took a couple of hundred photographs which I will be sorting and uploading along with the promised pics from my latest Paris excursion shortly... Just as soon as I've managed to catch up on some blog reading.
It's amazing how much you people manage to write in 3 weeks!

missing the picture

2007-07-15T07:26:00.001+01:00

I really hate leaving things unfinished so here's the pic of the beach at Cannon Rocks that belongs to the challenge from my previous post...

By the way... From where I'm sitting it looks like the photo has gone all fuzzy-ish after being uploaded here. Is it my imagination or does the quality look not quite right to you guys too?

lets do the time warp!

2007-07-13T16:54:00.000+01:00

I think I may have entered a time warp. Two weeks back in my hometown and it's like I never left. It's really relaxing to be in a place where you don't have to think so hard about everything... you just know, because your surroundings have been there your whole life. I don't have to choose my words carefully to make myself understood to people. I can go to the till and ask for some potato salad in a bakkie, just enough to take to a bring-and-braai, and the lady behind the counter knows exactly what I'm looking for (as opposed to asking for about 500grams (?) of potato salad in a plastic container please, to take to a barbeque).
It turns out, too, that I haven't forgotten how to drive a manual car and I don't have to plan my journeys - I know exactly where everything is in this town and how to get there.
I'm still trying to figure out where all the people are though. We have these great big wide roads here and hardly any traffic; the Irish could take a lesson there somewhere, teehee.

Earlier this week we drove out to a little seaside hamlet called Cannon Rocks to visit our friends, who have recently returned here from their own stint in Ireland. Are there beaches this beautiful anywhere else in the world?
Take it as a challenge, I dare you... and I want photographic proof, 'kay? *

I know I've been harping a bit on how wonderful it is to be home and all but as much as I'm already dreading having to leave again next weekend, this visit has also reinforced our decision not to return permanently. This place, and the people in it, haven't changed much and I guess we haven't either, except... we've moved forward and coming back would be like moving backwards again. I know I'm going to be an emotional wreck when we leave but I also know that my life is not here anymore.
Onwards and upwards, as my good buddy Buzz would say.

And on a completely different note may I just add that I'm really missing my blogging buddies a LOT - I'm afraid blogging by dial-up is just not a viable option. It takes ages to load any of the pages and I'm awfully conscious of my poor Ma's phone bill. so I guess I'm going to have stacks of catching up to do when I get back to Ireland.

~

* OK so this challenge has lost some of its impact as a result of me not being able to get the photo uploaded. Yay dial-up. I'll try again tomorrow. Pfft!

Getting Poetic in Sunny South Africa

2007-07-09T19:33:00.001+01:00

This place of ours cannot be told
To understand, you must behold
first hand, the glowing sunrise
bursting into skies
of endless blue;
a mirror of the ocean
crashing merciless upon white sand.

Here lives go on as others do
but not,
for though so beautiful
the land is harsh
sun beating down
turns seas of grassland golden brown
We pray for rain and when it comes
new rivers form where none should be.

Survival is a daily fight
and so we leave;
we search the globe
for better lives and gentle days
but soon enough that dusty land
that grows inside from when we're babes
calls out from deep inside our soul;
No matter where our feet may lead
our hearts are in this land, our home.

I'm Home

2007-07-01T09:38:00.000+01:00

I'm home.
I have such a mish-mash of emotions raging inside at the moment that I don't know where to begin.

Friday was a disaster. Well, that's not entirely true - I got everything done at work that I was supposed to and left it all in readiness for my boss's return on Monday. By the end of the day, though, I was a wreck from working late on Thursday, in early Friday till late again and flatout all the way. I had to take an emergency break in the ladies' room at one point to avoid a tearful outburst from pure stress. The upcoming trip probably didn't help things as I like to have time to prepare for a journey; you know me - I have to have lists of things, and lists of lists of things in order to feel prepared. I had nothing; Cinderella and Hubby jumped in and took care of the household and shopping stuff and all I had to do was pack my suitcase.

I thought a good night's rest would see me feeling better on Saturday morning but the stress was still there. I was taught as a piano wire and my sense of humour was nowhere in sight. The check-in queue at Dublin airport was beyond ridiculous and even though we were there well in advance, we only just made the flight with no time even to stop for a spot of duty-free shopping. My family and friends in SA would just have to do without their Butlers Irish Chocolates this time.

I castigated a bloke in the queue who asked us to keep his place while he dashed to the loo because he left his bag behind in our care. In this day and age, with all the airport security, how stupid can some people be??! Cinderella and Hubby stayed well back and I pretended not to notice them laughing at me while the Irish all around looked mortified at my nerve in having a, er, quiet word with the guy when he got back. He's damn lucky I didn't get airport security to remove his bag and have it blown to bits just in case!

Two young lads who were jangling while we were waiting to board got the fright of their life when I barked at them for pushing each other until one of them stepped on my foot. They ran off to their parents then, who gave them a proper tongue lashing.

Is it wrong that I felt better for having growled at strangers? Because I tellya, it did help lower my stress levels.
A bit.

Then we flew to London's Heathrow airport... and the first thing we saw was a newsflash on a TV about the car bomb incident at Glasgow airport. 'Twas a good day to be flying, for sure. The already tight security was even tighter - we went through more security checks than I thought possible by the time we eventually boarded the flight to Johannesburg, which left late as a result. Hunger wasn't helping my mood any and then when I was finally seated in the middle seat in a cramped 'plane I felt I was going for meltdown. And I didn't understand why. And I was too tired to figure it out. So I spoke not a word, ate my dinner, watched a movie and spent the next 10 hours trying - rather unsuccessfully - to sleep.
The dude behind me who appeared to be on a mission to clean out the entire stock of Heineken on the flight did not help; the only person who thought he was amusing at 3am was himself and eventually the flight crew put him in their own quarters to sleep it off.

But after breakfast this morning I was feeling better... right up until it got light outside and we were on final approach to Johannesburg and I looked out the window and I saw the land of my birth, the area I spent my childhood in, in the days when my father was still alive and life was innocent. That was when it all came bubbling over and the pain in my heart would not be stilled and I started sobbing.
All the homesickness and missing my Mom and my family and friends that I have blocked off for so long emerged with a ferocity that took me by surprise, and it took some time for me to regain my composure.

Once it had had its say, my spirits started to lift a bit and the stress eased. I burst out laughing when I heard the first announcement over the PA while we were waiting, in that uniquely delightful flat Jo'burg accent, "Goood mawning laydeees and geentlemen..."
LOL! I was home.
The fact was hammered home by the chaos when we went to check in for the final leg of our journey to Port Elizabeth and the systems were down and the manual check-in process was being handled in the slowest and most disinterested manner possible... and all the passengers could do was make light of the situation and roll their eyes a lot.

The hour-and-a-half flight from Jo'burg to Port Elizabeth was passed in and out of consciousness (partly from only having had about 3 hours sleep in total at most, and partly from having taken a couple of good strong painkillers to deal with the headache brought on by lack of sleep). When I was conscious I struck up a conversation with the two chaps next to me who were both born and bred there, too. In fact one of them went to the same high school as me. Um, it's kind of a small town, hehe..! They were eager to catch me up on what had changed in my absence, and welcomed me home. PE is not called The Friendly City for nothing.

We landed in weather pretty much the same as what we had left behind in Dublin. The smell of salty sea air hit me as it always does when I stepped off the plane, and then there were my Mom and stepson and his mates, and Hubby's sister and her offspring all waiting with big hugs to greet us and it's been like the twilight zone ever since. Things have changed but it's still the same and I feel like I never left.
But I saw the Southern Cross star constellation for the first time tonight in two and a half years.
It's weird the things that you remember. The sounds and smells are the same and the view from my Mom's verandah hasn't changed at all.

I think I may be a bit jetlagged and the emotions are still running a little high, but it's not surprising, I guess.

Because I'm home again.

Heading South for the Summer

2007-06-29T22:10:00.000+01:00

Now, I know most would head South for the Winter but anyone who's been in Ireland this Summer will probably agree that right now I have the right idea. It's been pretty cold in SA this week, in fact it snowed. Just before that, though it was 30 degrees. Gotta love that South African winter! And we're flying there tomorrow WOOHOO!!!
So now the question is... What to pack? Ah, right, I'll pack for an Irish Summer - should be about right.
I've had a week from hell so the break is just what I need. I'm hoping to get a chance to catch up on my blogging while I'm away - I feel like I haven't visited my blog buddies in months!
But there is Internet in Africa so I'll be making up for it.
Seeya from the other side of the world!!

monday blues

2007-06-25T12:42:00.000+01:00

I've been trying to write up a nice post for you guys, telling you all about the fun weekend Hubby and I had in London. It really was great - we stayed with my Li'l Sister and on Saturday the 3 of us went to watch the rugby-match-that-will-not-be-discussed and have a BBQ with my cousin at the pub he's been running for the last few years, followed by his farewell party.
He's moving to Oz, you see. We really had a good time (Thanks Cuz!) and it was well worth the hangover yesterday.

Trouble is it's hard to tell you good things about a great weekend when my mood is as irritable as what it is. Aaargh!!! Being nice - or even civil - to people is incredibly difficult when all I want to do is snap at them for simply breathing. Yep, it's one of those days when I should be sent home as unfit for human interaction.
Thing is, I should be happy... after all, this time next week we'll be on holiday in South Africa. And in truth, I am very excited and can barely contain myself about that. Who knew excitement and irritation could co-exist to such degrees?!

Because I don't wanna figure out why there is a problem with [process A]. I don't wanna have to solve the problem of poor performance on [server X]...

Update...
... and I've just noticed that some clever formatting I put in earlier caused only half my post to be published. I believe the GRRR factor has just grown exponentially!
d'ya think "I need to blog" is a valid excuse for not working any more today???!

I agree...

2007-06-20T14:05:00.000+01:00

A week is more than enough for one post to decorate this place. It's time for a new one.
Tomorrow (I think) is the Summer Solstice. The longest day of the year. Midsummer.
It's been raining and storming for about 10 days now. I have been wearing a fleece top under my bike jacket (still with the removable 'Winter' lining zipped in) to get to and from work. Summer, my ass! I don't remember the last time I saw blue skies...
Oh wait, that's not entirely true. It was two Saturdays ago when we went to visit our friends in Cork, and the four of us went for a stroll around Fota Wildlife Park. The weather was stunning that day - a perfect 23 degrees and cloudless skies.
It started raining the next day and it hasn't stopped since.

So since my mood is about the same as the heavy grey stormclouds outside, let's remember sunnier times with some photo's I took that day...

GIRAFFE AND ZEBRA IN IRELAND???!

'TIS NOT EVERY DAY YOU SEE A KANGAROO THIS FAR NORTH, EITHER!

SLEEPING FLAMINGOS

CHEETAH STARING AT TERRI STARING AT CHEETAH.
WE HAD A MOMENT :-)

My Paris

2007-06-12T14:50:00.000+01:00

SUNDAY 3 JUNE 2007...
So here I am, back in Paris, enjoying the sunshine on a bench in the Tuilleries Gardens, which extend from the imposing bulk of the Louvre to the Place De La Concorde where traffic roars in its mad, unfathonable dance. This is one of my favourite places in the world, right here where hazy orange sunshine filters through deep green leaves on trees that cast peaceful shadow on this haven. Heavy air and massive cumulous clouds build up the promise of a thunderstorm. It is early summer and warm enough that Cinderella and I are wearing light summer dresses and pretty shoes that were a lot more comfortable when we left our hotel opposite the Sorbonne this morning. A couple of hours roaming the vast halls of the Louvre in search of the still unimpressive yet must-see Mona Lisa, and the more impressive Venus de Milo (which has been moved, by the way, since my last visit, causing us a great deal of unnecessary walking), have turned our pretty shoes into feet-eaters. So now we sit and rest on a bench in the shade. Cinderella has her eyes closed and is lost in the world of her MP3 player. I'm playing spy with my camera and giving vent to the need to write that always comes over me when I'm in Paris. I've seen all the sights here twice before so I'm in no hurry to move. Now I finally get to do what I want to do in this city: soak it up and allow it to inspire the writer in me.
For me the best part of being in Paris is this, right here, right now; and twenty minutes earlier when we sat drinking coffee at one of the outdoor restaurants in the gardens.
It is a myth, by the way, that French waiters are rude; a smile goes a long way here.

Paris has a magical quality, especially on an early Summer day like today. Elegant beauty wraps around madly impatient traffic; all around people go about their business - Parisians with purpose, tourists meandering aimlessly and a cocktail of both resting in the sun... being here in the midst of it all breathes life into my soul. Pigeons peck at unseen crumbs around our feet; children laugh and play on the jungle gym and tourists speaking every conceivable language amble past us - most of them wearing far more sensible shoes than we are, I might add. Across the emerald lawn from us a stylish mother is trying to entice her toddler to a donkey ride. The little girl dubiously consents, unsure as to what all the fuss is about.
Despite the ever-present drone of traffic in the background, there is a sense of peace here.

...

LATER THAT DAY...
Against all odds we made it all the way up the Champs Elysées to the Arc de Triomphe on foot, stopping at a pharmacy (remembered from similar circumstances during a previous visit) and a nearby park bench to ply our poor feet with blister plasters. The interesting shops appear to be closed this Sunday afternoon. Our budget probably heaved a sigh of relief!
However, it is my belief that one important requirement of a visit to Paris is to sip coffee at a restaurant along the Champs Elysées - the coffee and pastry were delicious but I do think €20 for the two of us was a bit steep - especially since we were both still hungry afterwards. Would you think any less of me if I confessed we then dined at MacDonalds?

Thus fortified with fake food we paid the ransom to board one of the open-top tour buses. These are a great way to see the sights, be educated about our surroundings through little earphones that plug into the bus, and rest our weary feet. We stayed on the bus all the way back down the Champs Elysées over the river Seine and along the winding, shady avenues until we reached the Eiffel Tower. Cinderella is 16 - she's not particularly interested in all the other buildings but the Eiffel Tower, well that's different.
One cannot fail to be impressed by its enormity and she, of course, wanted to go all the way to the top. The queue was diabolical, however, and after waiting probably half an hour and not moving much we decided to give it up and return tomorrow, earlier in the day. Shadows were growing longer - well perhaps not, since it stays light so late in Summer - but we had both had enough for one day.

The tour bus provided a convenient and scenic way to get back to our hotel. We hopped off when it stopped at Notre Dame and hobbled from there across the river and up Blvd St Michel to the Place de la Sorbonne, a little square opposite the university and just around the corner from where we're staying.
This is another little haven; Cinderella has an enormous glass of orange juice in front of her and my Earl Grey tea is really hitting the spot. In the centre of the tree-lined square, fountains provide background music. It was here that we had breakfast this morning, joining professors wearing leather-elbowed tweed jackets for coffee and croissant; in the late afternoon sunshine the professors have been replaced now by students writing essays, their pages of notes strewn across the tables and held in place by glasses or ashtrays to prevent the breeze blowing their knowledge away. I feel tired and hot, but when the sun breaks through to throw a warm glow on the beautiful setting around us, that magical feeling is as strong as ever.

...

SAME DAY, ALMOST MIDNIGHT...
There's nothing like a day of sightseeing to make a girl enjoy a quick hour's nap before donning her finery (well, her finest jeans, anyway) and heading out to dinner. Since our hotel is close to the Luxembourg gardens we stepped inside there for a few minutes while trying to decide which of the restaurants across the road was fit to feed us this lovely night. Like everything else in Paris, the gardens are really pretty with manicured lawns, bright flowers, heavy trees and perfect white statues.
The Luxembourg Café/Brasserie took our fancy for dinner and we seated ourselves at a small table inside.
Perhaps I shall take a moment her to explain about Paris restaurants, for those of you who haven't been.

It seems to me that on every wide, tree-lined boulevard, you will find restaurants, cafés and brasseries. You seldom see just one - they tend to be a few together. They all have both inside and outside seating, and there is a price difference (on drinks, at the very least) depending on where you sit. Outside is more expensive than inside; of course most people prefer to sit outside and enjoy the fresh air and atmosphere (let's pretend, for a moment, that exhaust fumes don't exist in Paris). We chose to sit inside this evening - although the front windows were all open so it was almost as good as being outside - as the air was a little too fresh and I'm not wild about cold raw steak.
Ah yes, the steak. The French chef's joke. The waiter always asks how I want it cooked. I always say "medium-to-well-done, si'l vous plais". The chef always sends it to me rare anyway. Still, it was very tasty, and the basin of chocolate mousse that followed was worth every minute of the almost 2 hours we spent eating it. Yes, I said "basin". Upon such a large chocolate mousse we had never before laid eyes! I did the female species proud :-)
Of course the sugar rush that followed had us both giggling like schoolgirls (OK, one of us is a schoolgirl, but I have no excuse!) and the waiters had taken an amused and slightly indulgent air towards to us by the time we left. (This happens to me a lot when I travel though I'm not entirely sure why.)
When at last we could eat no more (or in my case, there was no more to eat) we strolled back to our hotel. We have a new room tonight - last night they had us in a double room and because the hotel was full they couldn't move us until today. We're both thankful we don't have to share a bed tonight - I snore, and Cinderella hogs. The windows are open but the warm evening air barely moves in this still, beautiful evening. Sitting upright on my bed, my belly full and my soul at rest, I have a yearning to write a love story.
The yearning to sleep is stronger, though. It's time for bed now.

TUESDAY 5 JUNE 2007...
We were up not so very bright nor terribly early yesterday morning. My logic is that one cannot enjoy exploring if one is tired and ratty, so I allowed us to sleep in a bit. Choosing more sensible shoes this time, we made our way back to Notre Dame after breakfast, where we did not have to wait long for the familiar red bus to arrive. I had almost thrown away the tickets the previous night, until I saw that they were valid for two days, not just one as I had thought.
Bonus!
When the bus stopped at the Opera we jumped ship (yeah yeah, I know) as Cinderella wanted to see the Moulin Rouge and apparently the red light district is not on the tour bus route.
We found our way to Gare St Lazare, from where we took the Metro to Pigalle. From there it was just a short walk (with another short stop at a pharmacy and park bench to refresh our blister plasters) to the Moulin Rouge. Yep, that's right Cinderella, it's a big old fake red windmill... now I know she would have been more impressed had I taken her there at night when it is all lit up and the whole area looks less dingy (although just as seedy) but I wasn't keen on dodging pimps and prostitutes with a 16-year-old after dark. So she took a photograph and we headed on, stopping for coffee and a milkshake of indeterminate flavour before descending into the Metro station again.

We re-emerged into daylight at the Arc de Triomph and caught up with the tour bus there, enjoying being driven around in the open air with no real hurry to get anywhere or do anything which was a good thing, as the route to the Eiffel Tower from there was somewhat circuitous. After a quick munch on a rather chewy baguette we joined the queue for the lift to take us to the top.

We queued for the tickets.
Then we queued for the lift to the 2nd level.
Then we queued for the other lift to to the top.
I felt myself growing old, the queues were that slow. I detest queues. I get bored in queues, and when I get bored I have a tendency to get mildly dilinquent, much to young Cinderella's initial embarrassment, and then amusement. Sure, what else is there to do in a queue but annoy one's family members and laugh at the other tourists? There must have been a hundred or more people waiting for the lift to the top and the uniformed men (wearing orange ties - orange!) were only letting about five people onto the lift at a time. Finally our turn arrived to enter the glass elevator. Cinderella laughed with glee as we shot up the middle of the big tower, partly because she enjoyed the ride and partly at me - I'm not so mad on travelling in glass lifts at speed and I had my hands full trying to behave like a sane person instead of a madwoman on the verge of hyperventilating each time I peeked out of one eye from behind my hands. If you thought the Eiffel Tower looked big from the ground, try shooting to the top and looking down.

Yikes! Fortunately the viewing platform is well closed-in so I was able to look around instead of huddling in a corner in the foetal position crying for Mother Earth. Unfortunately it wasn't a particularly clear day but we snapped our photographs nonetheless.

And then we queued to go back down to the second level again, where we queued once more for the other lift to the ground. Our little excursion to the top of the tower and back again probably took around 3 hours in total - yep, not exaggerating about the queues!

It was late afternoon by that time and Cinderella announced that she had a mission to buy a birthday present for a friend of hers, so we took the bus back to the Louvre, for there are dozens of souvinir and gift shops around the area perfect for finding "typical" gifts from Paris. Except she couldn't find exactly what she wanted - the lass is a fussy shopper, to put it mildly. So we trudged from one shop to the next until I eventually put my foot down (gently, as even the comfortable shoes were hurting by this stage) and we chased another red bus to get us back to Notre Dame. An immensely strong coffee and chocolate-macadamia cookie from Heaven (actually, it was a Häagen Dazs) restored my humour to not quite its former glory and provided the energy to start on the walk back to our hotel. Meandering through the Latin Quarter, though, we got sidetracked into a small shop selling pretty dolls and shiny things, and the elusive gift was purchased. The planned trip back to the hotel was canned and we sat down for dinner at a small restaurant instead, where Cinderella adventured into the land of Coq au Vin and I supped on a meal of rabbit that took me back to my childhood, when my grandmother would cook bunnies for special occasion meals. We ate slowly and watched the world go by. Some of the world went by in the shape of some rather well-sculpted breakdancers; we weren't short on entertainment.

I had wanted to take a photograph of the Eiffel Tower all lit up at night but there was no way we were traipsing all the way back there that evening. Instead, we turned back to Notre Dame as it was only a couple of blocks away. We arrived in front of the famous Cathedral to find a group of young men entertaining the crowd with fire tricks in the square out front: flaming batons, poi and my least-favourite, the fire-eating, appear to be a great way to earn money as a street artist. I stood well back (facing two phobias in one day is a little much for my nerves) and thanked Fuji for the zoom function on my camera.

Eventually, the sky faded to deep purple and the lights came on; I got my photographs and we hauled ourselves back to the hotel where we fell into bed like wounded soldiers.

...

We didn't wander far from the hotel this morning and we spent a lazy time browsing in shops around the Latin Quarter before establishing ourselves at a table in the sunshine in the picturesque Place de la Sorbonne again. The coffee is good, the sun is shining and I am breathing in as much of this place as I can, trying to stamp it into my memory. I feel sad to be leaving. I'm glad, though, that I am with Cinderella, whose favourite thing to do is sit and be restful. It gives me a chance to say goodbye to this magical city that brims with life and love and beauty; my Paris.

here today, gone tomorrow

2007-06-08T10:45:00.000+01:00

What? It's Friday again already?
I owe you a trip report and you'll get it, I promise. Paris was brilliant!
This week has been a bit busy though so I've barely had time to switch on my laptop never mind put together something not only readable but interesting in a coherent sort of way.
We're going away this weekend too. Our good friends are leaving Cork to return to SA next week - permanently. So we're going to say goodbye, leaving straight after work today to drive down. It almost seems unnecessary as we're probably going to see them in a month in South Africa anyway when we go there for a holiday. YIPPEEEEEE!!!!! Can you feel the excitement??!!! I'm gonna see my Mommy again!
:-)
In other news, we had a little household drama this week. Remember the tweetie-bird who laid such pretty eggs by our front door? Well the eggs hatched the day before we went to Paris, and when I came back I took this pic of the newborns - it's a little blurry on account of me not wanting to blind the poor babies by using the flash, but you can see they're all tiny and fluffy and stuff.
At least, they were...
Yesterday morning we opened the front door to find the nest had been knocked down, and two of the three chicks' corpses next to it - we presume a cat got the third one.
So after all her hard work, poor Mama Bird has lost her babies and has to start all over again. Somewhere else, though, apparently, as we haven't seen hide nor, er, feather of her since.
RIP hatchlings
+++

don't interrupt me while I'm talking to myself

2007-06-01T13:46:00.000+01:00

So tired. Need sleep.
You slept last night.
I know. I need more.
Why?
'Cos I'm exhausted. Too much going on; I can't keep up.
Don't be such a wuss. Deal with it.
That's easy for you to say - you're my Internal Critic. I'm the one who has to DO everything.
Oh stop whining. There are people much worse off than you.
And I'm sorry for them but that doesn't make my life any easier.
That's fair enough - hey, I have an idea!
Who said that??!
Shut up, Critic, that was my Internal Nurturer. Continue..?
How about a holiday? Indulge yourself.
Oh OK, I can do that. This weekend is a long weekend - how about I make it even extra long by taking the day off on Tuesday and buggering off to Paris with young Cinderella for a few days...?!

HEHEHE - I'll see you guys next week :-D

vroom

2007-05-29T12:24:00.000+01:00

'Twas a glorious summer day when we set out for Killarney in search of the fun and excitement promised by "Ireland Bike Week".
OK, perhaps "glorious" is a slight exaggeration but at least it wasn't raining.
Not yet, anyway.

We travelled for 6 hours, stopping once for breakfast and coffee, and three more times to stretch the cramps out of our bodies. I lost faith in the very clever SatNav thingy after it turned us off the main route and onto a smaller side road, then promptly started complaining about low battery power. Fortunately by the time it finally went kaput, we had alread started seeing signs for Killarney so no harm was done, despite the rather heavy showers and frigid temperatures* outside.

We then went to the Main Venue to check out the action...

Looks exciting, yes? So we ducked into a pub to get out of the rain...

Well the rain never really stopped, and we moved from one pub to another eventually, by which time I was tired of beer and had little inclination for anything stronger than coffee or coke** and by 11:30pm I was exhausted so hauled my brandy-and-coke-drinking husband back to the guesthouse, where I must say I had a really good night's sleep.

After a pretty good breakfast the next morning we set off on our return journey to Dublin. It was even colder and wetter than it had been the previous day. The tea and scones*** we had in Adare were probably the highlight of the trip.

Perhaps if we had arrived earlier we would have seen something more resembling a bike rally but as it was, well, there were a lot of bikes in Killarney this weekend and altogether way too much leather, denim and velcro for the comfort of the few middle-aged foreign tourists around, but nothing like what I had hoped for. I guess the weather didn't help.

So to summarise: We spent about 12 hours on the road to cover maybe 600km, to spend an afternoon and evening in a pub where I didn't really drink too much, and all I got for my efforts were aching joints and muscles.
On the other hand, I got to hug my hubby for 6 hours each way so it wasn't a complete loss..!
:-)

~~~

* About 10 degrees celsius was forecast for the weekend
** That's coca-cola, not cocaine!
*** Yeah, so much for the Big Bad Biker image

old friends revisited

2007-05-23T12:55:00.000+01:00

Last night I dreamt about an old friend. He was one of my best friends in Primary school and the other kids used to tease us about being boyfriend and girlfriend, which really annoyed us but we didn't stop being friends. We went to the same high school, too, and although we weren't as close any more, he always held a special place in my heart. Like a brother, sort of, only not.

We lost touch after leaving school and I think the last time I saw him was in a pub when I was around 20 or 21. Wow, that's a while back, but never mind.
He was completely wasted that night and I actually got cross with him - wanted to shake him and say, "Pull yourself together!" - he was pining over losing his girlfriend, you see. I had always thought he had so much potential - he was really bright and in fact we had often vied for the spot at the top of the class when we were kids. And he came from a good family, and he had been a good friend over the years. That night I felt disappointed in him*.

I haven't heard from or about him in years, and although he has popped into my thoughts once or twice, it has been a fleeting, "I wonder what ever happened to B.." sort of thought.
But last night I dreamt about him - we bumped into each other somewhere and he was in trouble but he wasn't a 'baddie' - more like wrongly accused, or something. In my dream I was well acquainted with his accusers and I persuaded them to give him a chance. We rekindled our friendship and all was well. It was weird: I saw him so clearly in my dream and it was one of those dreams that leaves you with a feeling, the way people are closely associated with feelings in dreams... so when I arrived at work this morning I typed his name into Google and hit Enter.

My efforts were rewarded** and I got a few hits - it seems my friend has done well for himself. He has loads of fancy letters after his name and is listed as a guest speaker at some awfully prestigious-sounding events. I guess he pulled himself together. And if there were a chance these references were to another person of the same name, any doubts were soon removed because one of the hits included a photograph of him taken about 3 years ago, in a professional capacity. It may be a small photograph but it is unmistakably my friend who visited me in my dream last night. The resemblance was uncanny, especially since I haven't seen him in about, oh, I don't know, 15 years or so?!

I don't know what brought him out of my subconscious or my memories or whatever makes one dream but somehow I feel better knowing where he is (in what country, anyway) and that he has done well for himself.

I was almost tempted to send him an email (it really is amazing what information you can find in a simple web search) ... You know; "Hi this is Terri. I don't know if you remember me from a lifetime ago but I had a dream about you last night and found your details through the internet..."
Ahem. Maybe not. It could sound just a little stalker-like, teehee!
Who knows, though, perhaps one day our paths will cross again.

* Yes, I know, I set very high standards for people - I like to think I have become less judgemental of people as I've grown older.
** It's like I keep saying: Google is my friend :-)

egg-ception to the norm

2007-05-20T20:47:00.000+01:00

There's a tweetie-bird driving Hubby insane. He built a nest in the eaves at our front door (the bird, not Hubby) which Hubby quickly dismantled because as you know one shouldn't have a bird's nest so close to one's house. Come to think of it, "He" may well be a "She" - I don't know enough about black birds with orange beaks to tell.
Anyway...
not only did He/She rebuild said nest in precisely the same place within the 9 hours it took for Hubby to go to work and back but He/She has also been digging for grubs 'n slugs 'n stuff in our neatly manicured garden, resulting in bits of ornamental bark bits being kicked carelessly all over the paving.

But did he (Hubby, that is) take his shotgun to the birdie? Not at all... and here's why:

I'm gonna be a grandma!!!
;-)

Terri's Tantrum Technique

2007-05-15T15:52:00.000+01:00

First, ensure that you have a very long, very boring day at work, peppered only with annoying little problems - you know, the kind that don't ever really go away, but sink to the bottom of your in-tray only to resurface months later to haunt you. This should be followed by a drive home in traffic piloted by mostly blind or stupid people. A beat-up Mitsubishi filled with bright-yellow-jacketed Lithuanian construction workers wolf-whistling at you when stopped at an intersection is optional.
When you finally get home, take a few minutes to map out a plan in your head of things you need to do in the remaining few hours before bedtime. Remember to leave little room for flexibility.
This next part is a vital: Ensure that you have at least one hour set aside to begin compiling a Very Long Document, one that you have been putting off until now due to lack of free time. At the moment when you decide to begin, change your mind and quickly put a load of laundry in the washing machine. Return to the table where said document is to be prepared and realise that in order to hang up the clean washing when it is ready, you will need to first clear the wash stand by folding the previous load. Once the clean laundry is folded you will need to take it upstairs in order to clear a space on the table so that you can start on The Document.
Return to the table, take your laptop out of its case, plug it in and switch it on.
Make another trip upstairs to retrieve some information required in the document.
Begin to read instructions on how to compose your document.
One and a half pages in, have a member of your family waft into the kitchen-cum-dining area where you are working and start chatting conversationally. Encourage them subliminally to leave by looking back to your computer screen at regular intervals while they are talking.
Resume work on the document. It will help to do the work using MS Word, with it's clever little "auto-formatting" feature that will ensure you end up with many tabs and bullet-points exactly where you don't want them.
Just when you think you're getting the hang of it, insert another member of you family into the mix, pointedly hanging around the stove area where supper is not yet cooking.
It should be mentioned here that a little bit of PMS couldn't hurt...
This should be about the time when your patience reaches its limit. Bang the keys of your keyboard to shut your laptop off and stomp into the kitchen. Open a cupboard to remove a pot. Realise that nobody has yet unpacked the dishwasher from the night before so begin that process yourself, delaying supper even further. You may find your family member has fled the scene. Remove the cutlery tray from the dishwasher and place it on the counter. Try and remove the teaspoons from those silly little compartments in the cutlery tray only to have the friggin' things get stuck.
Voila! The moment for your tantrum has arrived. Yank blindly at the teaspoons, forks and knives in a manner that sends them spinning all over the kitchen just at the moment when your other half walks into the kitchen asking, "Is everything OK?"

What you do next is up to you. Just remember, murder cases can be time consuming. Personally, I find it is a good idea to step outside and have a cigarette, leaving the offending cutlery and crockery in safer hands.

Note to self: I must remember to check behind the microwave tonight for that missing spoon....

In the absence of deep and meaningful how 'bout some insight instead?

2007-05-10T17:21:00.000+01:00

I got tagged. By Spookie. Thanks Spookie! 'Cos actually, talking about myself is one of my favourite things to do on this blog. It's all about Me here.
No prizes for guessing why they're called "MeMe's", hehehe

So here are the rules:

Each player starts with 7 random facts/habits about themselves. People who are tagged need to write on their own blog about their seven things, as well as these rules. You need to choose 7 people to get tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they have been tagged and to read your blog!

So here are my 7 things:

1. When I was about 9 years old I got a letter from a girl we had lived next door to for years, before we moved away. She was a year older than me and I was quite horrified by her spelling and grammar in this letter so little 9-year old Terri conscienciously made corrections on the letter in red pen just like her teacher did at school and sent the letter back together with her reply. I never heard from her again and I still feel really bad about that.

2. I just Googled "conscienciously" to make sure I spelled it correctly. I guess some things never change.

3. This morning my husband affectionately called me his "rebel nerd". That is probably one of the most accurate descriptions of me, ever.
I am an oxymoron.

4. I think I look like my grandmother when I chew my food. Not that I've ever watched myself eat but the way my jaw feels as it moves when I'm eating conjures up the image of my grandmother eating so I can only surmise that is what I look like.

5. Even though I often say I've gotten really lazy about housework - and mean it - if I'm honest, my home is still probably cleaner and neater than the average. I'm a neat freak :) If my surroundings are messy it drives me slowly mad.

6. I emailed a friend of mine a couple of days ago to ask her nicely to make the photos she emails out a bit smaller 'cos they're making my mailbox hang and I haven't heard from her yet. I'm wondering if I need to carry out damage control (see #1 above).

7. In keeping with my new-found "Rebel Nerd" status I am going to break the rules of this meme by not tagging 7 people.

In fact, I'm not tagging anyone. But those of you who feel the urge, please consider yourselves tagged. You can even quote me :)

2007-05-08T13:02:00.000+01:00

I wanted to post a deep and meaningful gathering of thoughts today but guess what? I don't appear to have had any recently.
Have I stopped thinking?
Or have I stopped looking at the world around me and having opinions on it?
Or has the world stopped doing stuff?
Or perhaps it is simply a case of my world having shrunk.
My head is filled with thoughts of my rather successful shopping expedition on Sunday, some paperwork I need to complete, the books I ordered on Amazon this morning that I need to study to get my certification, and how much traffic I will have to contend with on my way home this evening. Also, how I need to book an appointment for an eye test to see if I need new specs which would explain why I keep getting headaches (either that or it's as I always suspected and it's actually an allergy to, you know, working). Oh and I mustn't forget I also need a haircut - but is it long enough yet for me to have it done the way I want, and should I wait until nearer our trip to Paris so it still looks really good for that?

So perhaps I should clarify: Thoughts I have a-plenty. But deep and insightful they are not.
I believe they're of the "Mental Clutter" variety, energy-sapping and trifling.
How easy it is to get bogged down in the minor details of life while the stuff that amuses and entertains passes us by, unnoticed.
Now that I have drawn my attention to it, let's see if I can come up with something interesting to say by the end of the week, shall we?

get the picture

2007-05-01T18:22:00.000+01:00

I'm on a training course the whole week. Information overload is causing evening-brain-shutdown-syndrome. Only 2 days done. 3 more to go. I don't think my head can fit any more in; I'm hoping this doesn't result in a painful and extremely messy brain explosion.

In the absence of imaginative and witty thoughts, here are some random photos recently taken...

Apple Blossoms... sort of...
This tree in our garden gets fruit which smell just like apples and look vaguely similar but in miniature size. The don't taste like apples though, yech! It looked really pretty last weekend when it was in full bloom, so I'm quite happy for it to be an ornamental fruit tree.

This here is one ecstatically surprised Cinderella after Hubby decided it was actually a good idea that she has her own transport and went and hunted down a used bike to replace the stolen scooter. Happy doesn't even begin to describe how pleased she was.
In fact, she was so pleased she made me this:

Thanks to my pal Reluctant Nomad
for providing the recipe - it is indeed The Best Carrot Cake Recipe In The World

take me away from all this

2007-04-24T18:25:00.000+01:00

I'm going to Paris!!!
Again :-)
I know it's my 3rd time but I really do love the place, and this time I'm taking young Cinderella with me.
Perhaps it'll make her feel better after some @*#%! assholes went and stole her scooter yesterday, poor thing.
She loved that scooter. It didn't go very fast - just a little 50cc effort that sounded like a sewing machine on steroids - but it was her very own motorised transport. And now it's gone.
I got the call from Hubby when I was on the train yesterday, that he was on his way to fetch her from where she'd parked it - chained to a gate, nogal - only to find it gone when she wanted to come home after school. I thought she was actually at the school. But lo and behold, there I was sitting on the train when it stopped at the station near her school - two stops before my own - absentmindedly staring out of the window and cursing the bastards who would steal from a 16-year-old girl, when something bright yellow caught my eye. It was a police vest. Standing next to my girl-child, who was in tears. I virtually climbed over the woman seated next to me to get off the train, and dashed down the platform and over the bridge to where she was standing in the parking lot. Poor thing, she was trying to be strong and give the cops all the info she had, in between racking sobs. It wass enough to tickle anyone's maternal instinct! Hubby arrived shortly afterwards and by the look on his face I'd say the robbers are lucky they hadn't been caught because he looked ready to murder.
So sadly, our little motorcycle gang has been reduced from 3 to 2 again.
And I'm left marvelling yet again at how we left crime-ridden South Africa for a better life here in Ireland. Did I ever mention that the house we were staying at our first week in this country was robbed while we slept upstairs? And then there were my precious wind-chimes that were stolen but weeks after we moved into our new house last year. And my canvas bike-cover that mysteriously disappeared earlier this year.
And now this.
Anyway, it's done now; nothing more to do but hope the cops find it. I suppose that's the difference - at least here they make an effort to try and recover stolen goods, unlike South Africa where they just provide you with a case number so you can claim from insurance.

But back to the Paris trip. We're going for 3 days at the beginning of June and it's all booked. I can't wait! Now it's just the simple (?) task of getting Cindarella's visa sorted...

I am king of the world!!!

2007-04-17T14:13:00.000+01:00

OK, technically, I know that should be Queen of the world but somehow I feel more like a King. You see today I rode my bike all the way into work for the first time.

{{applause and fanfare}}

My license arrived in the mail yesterday (is this the only country in the world where it is safe to send peoples' drivers licenses to them in the mail?) so this morning I dressed in my work clothes, then took them off again and packed them in my rucksack (so I wouldn't forget a shoe or something) donned my biking gear (safety first!) and rang-tang-tang'd my way into town.
In peak hour traffic.
Yay me!
I even rode on the motorway - this is Dublin, after all, what are the chances of the traffic travelling at more than 80km/h at that time of the morning?!
Was I scared? You betcha.
Did I balk at the buses? Maybe a bit.
But eventually I did get tired of sitting in the traffic so I gingerly edged my way out and sneaked forward between the lines of cars, just like a real biker;-)
Hah!
I did it!
By the time I had my bike parked at work I was shaking like a piece of jelly on the dashboard of a car with worn shock absorbers, and there was enough adrenaline coursing through my veins to make me feel invincible. Don't worry - that sensation only hit me after I'd made it to work. While I was in traffic I was nervous as a little mouse!
The other bikers in the office are all terribly excited for me and didn't even complain when I 'stole' their parking space. Suddenly I feel like I'm in a gang, hehehe!
I'm sure in a couple of weeks' time I'll be quite blasé about the commute... but for today I'll simply enjoy the sensation of having overcome fear and conquered the road.

you want my what?

2007-04-11T12:32:00.000+01:00

I pulled up outside my house on my bike last night around 8pm to find a small swarm of yuppies knocking on doors and smiling at everyone. One enthusiastic youngster apporached me, handing me a pamphlet, saying something about a local Senator blah blah blah... it's coming up for election time, you see. So there I was, trousers tucked into my boots from the ride, like a WW2 paratrooper, helmet still firmly on head, gloves in one hand, keys in the other and all I could hear (since his voice was quite muffled through the helmet) was something about if I waited a few moments I could have a word with Himself. I blinked at him (it was late, my blood sugar was quite low) and said, "Do I have to..?"
I don't think that was quite the response he was looking for, and he giggled nervously, said, "Oh. No. Of course not," handed me a business card and scuttled off into the twilight.
On second thoughts I could have waited for the Senator to come over and ask if there was anything he could do. Then I could have said, "Yes, you can get rid of these blasted politicians who keep disturbing my evenings now that the elections are drawing near!"
Coulda-woulda-shoulda, eh?!

Tuesday morn and all is well

2007-04-10T13:07:00.000+01:00

It astounds me how different Ireland is when the sun shines. After months and months (and months!) of dreary Winter weather, we had four glorious days and today promises to stay that way... and they fell over a long weekend! Now, I realise that my South African readers will think I'm nuts when I tell you that temperature was around 13 degrees C on Saturday and it was so lovely out that we rushed off to get meat and invited friends around for a Braai (BBQ), because in SA 13 degrees is the dead of winter. Somehow it's different here.
I had a really good long weekend, beginning with Hubby and I going on a breakfast run on the Blackbird on Friday that took us into the Wicklow Mountains to the South of Dublin and lasted pretty much most of the day. Nothing beats an exhilerating ride on the bike on a beautiful day. Then we had our Braai with friends on Saturday, and on Sunday morning we went to the beach. Yes, the beach! OK I admit there was no swimming and we were fully clothed at all times but the sand was warm between my toes and the sun was warm on my face. Warm face and warm toes makes for warm soul, so I was happy :)
Yesterday was a model of decadence, involving apple pie and whipped cream, lots of chocolate, crisps, fizzy cooldrinks and lounging around watching TV*.
Heaven!
Yep, for now, all is well in Terriland :)

~

*By the way, I rather enjoyed "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" - by far the most enjoyable of the poor boy's adventures yet - for me, if not for him.

Husband, Father, Zombie-slayer

2007-04-03T14:11:00.000+01:00

Something spooked me, and I gathered both children to me, my arms around them so they wouldn't stray. They were about 11 or 12 years old and they were frightened. We would be safer together. I began edging us towards the door that would lead us into the next room, to where I knew D was, to where he could protect us. Looking around I noticed there were poeple under the bed.
No, not people, corpses! Their wax-like features unmoving, dead eyes staring straight ahead. I started feeling freaked out and then I saw a pair of eyes moving, following us. Panic welled inside and I tried to hurry us to the door, knowing safety was just on the other side but unsure if we would reach it in time. My steps were tiny, as if there was some sort of binding around the three of us, restraining us. I tried to call for help but my mouth was taped shut and my shouts were mere whimpers. I realised I could reach the tape that was covering the child's mouth. As I ripped it off he screamed in terror, for the corpses were Zombies and they were writhing and moving and coming to get us! At last my mouth was freed of its tape and I screamed too, as long and loud as I could...

... I woke myself up. My heart pounded in my chest, my mouth burned dry and I was so hot I felt as if I might melt. Sweat poured off me in rivulets. Next to me, D slept soundly, his breathing even and content. I was too afraid to move any more than just my eyes, scanning the shadows that mocked me from all corners of our bedroom. Still blurry from sleep, I fought the need to close my eyes, fearful of returning to that place.
I needed water, but was terrified of the darkness and what might be lurking in our en-suite bathroom.
I needed D, awake.
So I wriggled over to him as noisily as I could. His breathing didn't change. I wriggled some more and put my hand gently on his shoulder - I needed him to wake gently, not with fright.
His breathing altered slightly but then reverted to its familiar rhythm.
Scooting back over to my side of the bed I wondered, Should I give up now? The thirst still burned in my throat and I inched back over to him, making my presence felt. He stirred but didn't wake.
I sort of felt bad so frumped my way back onto my side and propped myself up on one elbow, trying to convince myself it was safe.
And then he woke up, with a groggy, "What you doing?"
Must've thought I was getting out of bed. He always wakes when I get out of bed.
I was delighted and dashed back over to him, mumbling, "Bad dream!".
He hugged me and slurred, "What sorta bad dream?"
"Monsters!" said I.
"Oh no, not monsters!" he said, "Don't worry I'll protect you."
A moment of silence while he held me sleepily, and then...
"Would you get me some water please?"
To be fair, if he'd woken me up with stories of monsters and asked me to get him water I would've told him to f*£~ off, but not my man. Nope, he forced his eyes open and groped his way out of bed, stopping to pick up the nearest weapon he could find - his hairbrush - then stomped his way to the bathroom, making lots of thumping noises and hitting the Big Bad Brush on the ground, all the while assuring me that he was giving the monsters a beating. Upon reaching the basin he said, "You want me to bring you some water, eh?"
"Ah no, don't worry, the cup in there is all yucky - just put the light on and I'll come drink from the tap."
So he did, and I did.
When we were safely back in bed again, he asked what sort of monsters they were.
"Zombies," I said.
"Well don't you worry, I turned them into paste, they're all gone now."
My hero.
I slept like a baby after that.

~

The moral of the story? My mother was right about eating cheese late at night. Next time I'll go easy on the pizza before bedtime.

Thinking bloggers

2007-03-29T13:09:00.000+01:00

WOO HOO! I WON SOMETHING!!!
In a manner of speaking.
What can I say? I'm thrilled that the deeply ponderous and deliciously wicked Chitty considers me one who thinks.
ahahaha my Ma would be proud :-D

What am I on about? The Thinking Blogger award. For me. You can read all about its origins here - it's not very long and is quite easy to read so really, take a look.

And having a somewhat compulsive nature I cannot pass up a tag. So now the trick is to tell you about 5 blogs that I find thought-provoking.

I'm also obliged to include the rules, so here they are:

1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that tickle your grey matter,
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme,
3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote (here is an alternative silver version if gold doesn't fit your blog).

Now onto the meat of the matter...

1. The Clarity of Night - This is where I go to find a bit of peace in the world. He may be a lawyer by trade but if you ask me, he missed his calling. An immensely talented writer, his words, often combined with photographs, soothe the soul... or make your hair stand on end, depending on the subject, mood and genre of his current post / vignette / series. In between the fiction he also manages to occasionally run short fiction contests; and it would be remiss of me not to mention the poignant posts focussed around his fascination with old and beautiful gravestones.

2. Reluctant Nomad - You just never know what to expect from this blog. An informative post on quantum physics or a laugh-out-loud re-telling of a night in the life of a gay South African in England or, since his latest move, Amsterdam. Reluctant Nomad not only entertains, but he also does a lot of the thinking for us, always a bonus, in my opinion.

3. Angel's Mind - Angel is a single mother in South Africa whose teenage son has ADD. Her blog is a mix of normal everyday working mom stuff and passionate, heart-felt musings about life as a single mother, things that have been or will be, and life in general. And then there are the short stories about dragons...

4. Dawn Unplugged - Now I know this is the second tag in a row for Dawn but she really deserves this award. Yet another South African ex-pat, she lives in the USA with her husband and children. Sometimes her thinking posts are SO much deeper than I am, that no matter what comment I leave, it sounds trivial, yet I can't help returning because the warmth of her personality transcends the cables and static that is the Internet.

5. OK I'm going to cheat here and not do a 5th one. I read a handful of blogs - OK, maybe 2 or 3 handfulls (handsfull?) - regularly for various reasons and each of them gives me something, be it emotional support, entertainment, or deep thinking stuff. [Is it even possible that someone who uses the term "deep thinking stuff" was awarded The Thinking Blogger Award???]
So choosing a 5th is just not working for me now - sorry!

...

Wow, will ya look at that? I broke the rules. Maybe I can think for myself after all... or maybe the OCD is wearing off at last hahahahaha!