Wednesday, September 2, 2015

heal your soul soup

I was going to make some courgette fritters, but I couldn't face all the faff.

I really want to stop defaulting to an egg on toast or frozen pizza because I've no energy to cook. So... soup.

Cook a leek and a celery stick in some oil til soft, add chopped potatoes and cook them for a wee bit. Add some bouillon, salt, pepper, and more than cover with water. Cook til soft, then add a grilled red pepper. Blend and mix in a few handfuls of cheese.

It's thick and rich and warm and piquant. Good for approaching Autumn and a sad soul. 
If my daughter doesn't stop telling me I'm not a good person, I'm not sure I'm going to make it through all this without a breakdown. 

derp

Today I explained that the phrase 'he's elephants' means very drunk in Ireland, and when someone asked me where it came from,  I said I didn't know, but it could be from the pink elephant scene in Infantasia. I sensed something was wrong, but I couldn't work out what. The students looked at me confusedly and said, 'Fantasia?'

Ah yes.


Sunday, August 30, 2015

what the fuck is wrong with me?

Readers, I stayed up til ten to five last night. Just being online, not even doing anything productive, or reading (despite the fact that I actually have a book to read).

TEN TO FIVE?? I wasn't even caffeinated.

The stupid thing is, I have no trouble sleeping, I love sleeping, I just can't make myself go to sleep. I don't mean fall asleep, that's fine too, no insomnia here - I just can't make the move to put down the book, close the laptop, stop messing with my skin, etc, and go the fuck to sleep.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME??


Wednesday, August 26, 2015

discoordinated

I'm feeling very badly put together at the moment. My typos are in over-drive. My vision seems to have taken a dive for the worst. I'm dropping things a lot and missing things... I feel bleary and stupid and not strong. I'm malcoordinated. Misadjusted. Vague and sleepy and I don't know my arse from my elbow.

What do I need? Early nights, proprioceptive exercise, vitamins? I'm going for an eye test on Tuesday, and this time I'll go get glasses, no matter what the lovely optician recommends - I'm noticing my weakened sight more and more for in the last couple years, I didn't used to, but I'm squinting at things like an *aul one these days. Last time I went to my lovely optician, whose name is Nora Wickham (my mother loved going to her because she gave her the best prescription of her life, and also she said she felt like she was in a Jane Austen novel, and was one of 'Nora Wickham's ladies'), she said 'do your eyes a favour and don't wear your glasses'. So that was fine by me, but recently, Lenny Kravitz had a wardrobe malfunction, and split his rock god leather trousers right down the crotch seam, and dangled his goods in front of his audience (they were Swedish, so they probably weren't too afronted). I mentioned on Twitter that I was a little disappointed at the underwhelmingness, I'd expected something more epic, a piercing, something... a friend said, I think he did have a piercing. So I had to go back and peer at the still, again, like an aul one. If Nora tells me not to wear my glasses, I'll have to say, 'but Nora, I couldn't see Lenny's piercing!'

In other news, I got a surprise package in the post today - I'd forgotten that I bought a painting from an online friend that I know through all things maternal. Erin Darcy is a red haired maiden from the States who is an artist. She came over here as a tender teen to meet the young man in person with whom she'd fallen in love online. And she got married, and stayed, and now has two babies. Sadly, her parents are beloved to her, and her father is suffering from a pernicious form on early onset Alzheimer's. And she can't be there to be with him while he's still himself. It's cruel, especially because of their separation. She's currently having a sale to try and make some cash to get back for another visit. I love her current moon watercolours. This one ... oh, it sparkles far more than I realised. It's a magic little piece of sky in a bucket and I'm going to hang it over my bed.

You could go see if there's anything you like, or just browse for later - she does lovely family and mother and baby pictures, takes commissions, her work is simple but full of heart and love. This doesn't photograph so well in its plastic and with my shitty little camera - you can't see the sparkle or the depth of the blue in the bottom splashes. I'm very happy, though. I loves the moon. She's my friend.





Tuesday, August 25, 2015

ode to the weather

Oh, weather, you make me want to stay in bed, 
even as time whooshes away from me and nothing gets done. 
As I get nothing done.
 I just want to snuggle here, 
reading inconsequential things 
and not going out in the cold grey wet glare 
of this pissy fucking day. 

Monday, August 24, 2015

my son, my son




First one, he's on a yellow submarine, second, naked cannonball. 

And the weekend is over...

... and the sun shines on Monday morning.

Seriously, Ireland. Why? Why does the rain come for weekends? My poor friend with the party. The insane rain on Saturday night, it was torrential and sustained. Saturday the clouds were on the ground,  grey, grim, dark. It rained all day yesterday, constantly wet.

And Monday morning, the sun is out, the sky is shiny. Fer fuck's sake. 

Saturday, August 22, 2015

friends

A beautiful night, last night - three wonderful friends, and I made delicious food. No really - my 70s favourites that make me feel celebratory, devilled eggs and guacamole say party! :) And a curry made with a very nice bought spice mix, lots of cassia and cinnamon in it. And when I was picking it out, a poor lady was looking for five spice and couldn't find it. I found it for her (I'm a good finder if I'm not looking for myself) because I looked under C for Chinese five spice but I didn't like to say, well, the alphabet, when she asked 'how did you do that??' because she was looking under F not C. 

I'm compulsive about helping people in supermarkets. It's frustrating, but today it was easy and I didn't feel intrusive. 

Anyway, curry with lentils, potatoes, aubergine, mushrooms, tomato and yoghurt. And coriander. Nom. Anne made rice, which was nice, because I rarely manage to make good rice. And I asked if I should make a nectarine crumble and Nora said 'YES' with great assertion. Cassie brought blueberries, and I threw them in and that was perfect. I don't make Irish crumble, with oats and what have you, I make a crisp, I guess, with lots of brown sugar and cinammon and buttterrrrr. I didn't measure, it worked perfectly. So good. 

Chats and wine and laughs with beautiful women. It's the best. 

Friday, August 21, 2015

I dreamed of Danielle on Monday. Or someday recently. Whatever. He came to Dublin to see me, despite several mis-starts and refusals to make crucial phone calls. Finally I was wandering Dublin, late, and he came round a corner in the misty night. He was short and kinda chunky compared to his actual self but it was all good because we went and sat down and I snuggled him comfortably.

I haven't heard from him in a good while - though he sounded good and future focussed when I did. I texted him to tell him I dreamed about him. He texted me back to tell me what colour t-shirt he was -actually wearing that day, and I mentioned his dream-chubbiness. Some time later I got a text back saying,

Woman, did you just call me fat??? :)

I keep looking at it and laughing. When Danielle's being funny, it's like summer rain.

I've dreamed significant dreams about him only a handful of times. It's odd to see what my subconscious does with someone I've never met. I've dreamed about Mary too (which makes sense, after all,  I go visit her house at least once a day :) But in the one dream, we met, and he was actually a sixteen year old boy who only came up to my boobs (he's 6'5, supposedly), and I was furious (especially because of the I-told-you-so quotient) but won over by his cheeky teenage appeal nonetheless.

Anyway, this is really just a post to tell Mary and Mwa that Dan is still alive and well enough to be funny.