Time Marching Onwards

November? November?!

What the flip?

Autumn disappeared in the blink of a squirrel's eye and bleak, dark winter days are upon us.

Can't get too depressed, however; I head off to California in less than a month. Hurrah!

Sunshine, vineyards, palm trees...



...shopping and sushi here I come:



Re Bridesmaid issues - progress is being made - at the weekend we succeeded in getting the first dress fitting done and shoes procured for both bridesmaids. That's everything we needed to get sorted before the other bridesmaid heads off to Australia for 6 months.

Protracted discussions on the issue of invitations have resulted in an agreement to use e-invites as opposed to labour-intensive handmade cards - thank the Lord! My expertise lies much more in on-screen than off-screen design.

I have to ask myself though - if this is the level of stress induced by being a bridesmaid, what it must be like to be the couple trying to get married? Doesn't bear thinking about... Hats off to those who survive it.

Personally I think eloping is wholly underrated...

Hurrah!

The new website is finally ready!

If I haven't been posting for the past while it's because work has been incredibly busy--but exciting too.. I've been hosting events, getting press, getting promotional materials made....and writing a whole new website for the organisation.

And it's done. Phew.

Link here: Habitat for Humanity Ireland

I've earned a mug of tea...

Panic on Camden St

I got beset upon by a nasty cold towards the end of last week and despite staying out of work sick on Thursday and half of Friday I was still sniffling and aching all weekend long.

It was unfortunate timing as my 'to do' list for the weekend was extensive – my 'winter necessities' shopping list had become urgent as a result of the freakishly cold weather last week (Does anyone else think we're in for a Winter o '47 style marathon freeze this year? Don't say I didn't warn you) and more importantly my duties as Chief Bridesmaid for the Dobbyn family wedding 09 were becoming pressing.

Yes the wedding isn't till July 09 which should leave plenty of time for preparation but the bride has big exams in January, the other bridesmaid heads to Australia for 6 months in December and, well, this is my family we're talking about here.

My main duties are getting myself and the other bridesmaid clothed, shoed and accessorised (feel my pain) and organising the hen night. Doesn't sound like a lot but the workload seems to be multiplying exponentially as I actually start doing the tasks.

Bridesmaid outfits:

We have the dresses – they're lovely teal, flowy dresses that will suit us blondies perfectly. So far so good. Of course they have to be adapted by a dressmaker to make them the right length before bridesmaid number 2 heads down under. In order to be able to be measured correctly we need the shoes....She lives in Galway, I live in Dublin – the challenges mount. Once that's all sorted I have to get matching jewellery, design hair styles and possibly make-up/fake tans etc.

I'm knackered just thinking about it.

The Hen Night:

My darling sister wants no ordinary hen night...no dinner, cocktails and L plates for her. No...for her hen night my sister is jetting all her friends over to Edinburgh (ok Ryanair will probably do the jetting) next June to take part in the Moonwalk....an overnight walking marathon in aid of Breast Cancer Research.



Yes she's making her friends 'walk' for her hen night. In fairness the event does sound pretty cool – it's around midsummer so the night should be mild, it's mostly women who participate, people design funky colourful, lit-up bras to wear over their clothes, generally there's a festival atmosphere...and it's all for a good cause. I'll take that over matching t-shirts and L plates in Temple bar any day.

She's also considering taking everyone for 'high tea' in the Balmoral that afternoon for an uber posh, lady-like experience that the Grannies and Mothers will enjoy.



So far so good.

In fairness the fact that the Bride here has a clear idea of what she wants and is aiding the organisation is definitely a good thing.

It does look , however, like I'll have to design invitations, organise everyone to register for the Moonwalk early next year, organise flights, accommodation and design at least one funky bra (hopefully not 15 of them) in order to get it off the ground.

Step one (invitations) was on my list for this weekend and given the fact that I was staying at the beau's place just around the corner from the holy grail of Invitation design – Daintree - I couldn't use the cold as an excuse to avoid going.

My first mistake was leaving it till late afternoon to go in – the cold had me knackered so I slept till about 4pm. I arrived in the shop circa 430 to utter pandamonium...brides and brides families everywhere comparing Indian Cotton card, the merits of 'fan leaf' over 'aquatic plant' paper, shades of ivory envelopes, ribbon, dried flowers, feathers etc.

Daintree features a greater level of selection than any normal human can possibly handle without breaking into a cold sweat (which is precisely what I did not 2 minutes after entering the place). Brides on the other hand seem to revel in it...every aspect of a wedding requires endless decision making and each bride has to make exactly the right decision in each case or their wedding will be an utter disaster. At least this must be the case to explain the stress levels aroused by satin paper and silk ribbons.

I was looking for something pink and simple but also elegant and artistic because my sister is a classy dame.

Something like this maybe:



After selecting a pink envelope and a piece of Indian Cotton card that looked like it would fit into it when folded over I felt like I was almost there. I then started to look for some coloured/patterned paper to use as a seond layer or strip for decoration and at that point became stumped. Yes I could find lots of gorgeous matching papers...but what the hell was I actually going to do with it?

It was at this point my utter lack of an artistic ability became apparent. How many layers were there meant to be? What font would I use? How the hell was I going to print these up anyway? What kind of glue to use? Did I have to print the addresses on the envelopes? Why does everyone in here seem to know what they're doing but not me?!

My cold sweat became an all out flood and I had to discard the pink envelope and run. I wasn't in any shape to handle these crucial decisions – much more planning and preparation was required. As I gulped in fresh air on Camden st I realised I was in way over my head.

I don't know how brides do this for real on a big scale for an entire wedding. Whatever about hen night invites – where do people begin to design their wedding invites? Terrifying.

My only hope is intense internet research prior to entering one of these premises again. Being a Dobbyn might actually help me handle this challenge....for once we have the right amount of anxiety and insane punctuality for an event.

After all I'm not Chief Bridesmaid/Best Woman for nothing...it's up to me to see my sister has the best damn hen night the world has ever seen.

Mission accepted.

Getting my Goat

Challenge laid down by Steve at Notes With No Commas blog.....

1) List two things that irritate you for a reason, which you should give, and two things that irritate you for no good reason,
2) Give credit to the person who tagged you,
3) Link your answers to the original blog - http://noteswithnocommas.wordpress.com/,
4) Tag four new people to participate.

Steve listed TV repeats and gangs....I think once I start I may not be able to stop.

For good reason:

1) Inconsiderate People

The people who arrive at the theatre/cinema 10 minutes after the show is scheduled to begin, people who leave their mobiles on, people who do back stroke in the pool at my gym, people who fail to clean up their dishes/empty take-away boxes for 2 weeks, people who park 3 cm away from your driver door, people who smoke indoors, people who vomit on footpaths....

Basically any behaviour where people display their complete ignorance of the existence of other people in the world. Please people! Open your eyes just a fraction, consider the feelings of the many other people that surround you in the world and then stop before you inflict noise/smoke/vomit pollution on them.

2)The Cost of Health in Ireland

I know it could be worse - we could have a system like America that precludes healthcare from all but the wealthy but I still think it's ridiculously expensive to stay healthy in Ireland. Pharmaceuticals are way more expensive here than in other countries due to the lack of availability of generic brands and the growth of chain pharmacies.

For 5 minutes of a GP's time it'll cost you circa 60 euro...for a course of antibiotics another 20 euro, the contraceptive pill will set you back 30 euro for 6 month supply....and don't get me started on the price of condoms.

If you're working on low income (as I am at the moment by my own choice) you literally cannot afford to be sick. I pay for health insurance to cover me should anything really bad happen but it doesn't help me pay for the GP, antibiotics, contraception - or any day-to-day healthcare expenses that can really add up. I can't even imagine how anyone on minimum wage copes.

My sister lives in Scotland and hears people give out about the NHS all the time but really they have things so much better over there...ie it's all bloody free! As in free free...no dollars, zero euros, pas de sterling.... Now that's healthcare for all.



No Good Reason

Um.

This is hard - so many gripes and so many good reasons for them...

1)Spiders

I guess my utter hatred of spiders is pretty irrational. Here in Ireland they're totally harmless, they kill flies and other irritants and they make attractive cobwebs.

But God do I hate them....something about those two extra legs they have on insects that make them repulsive to me...or the way they move.....~shiver~

2) Screaming Children in Public Places

I know children are a good thing...pretty essential to the survival of the species and all that. I even intend to have some of my own some day all going well and I know full well that I will one day be a perpetrator of this particular crime...

But do people really have to bring them to restaurants? and shopping centres? and cinemas? and public areas in general? There's something about the scream of a toddler that is so ear-piercing and disruptive of one's inner equilibrium that it makes you want to strangle who or whatever is nearest you at that moment.

Children should be seen and not heard!


There. Phew. That's a load off.

I won't mandate anyone in particular to do this--anyone with a blog out there have a go. In fact if anyone wants to add a comment here about what gets their goat--go right ahead.


Meanwhile I really should start doing some small amount of work to justify my income however low it is....

Adios Paraguay.

I've been back a week and between jetlag and mountains of laundry have failed to post a blog. I could have made time to be honest but think I needed some time to process the whole thing.

Basically it was great.

Lot's of this:


and this:

MESCALA!

A great team:


and wonderful friendly hosts in Paraguay:


We actually had an Irish journalist based in Argentina visit out site and he's having a series or articles printed in the Irish Emigrant newspaper. One of them can be found here.

Between the 15 of us we helped build 2 houses in Encarnacion, a small town near the Argentinian border. The Habitat affiliate there is hugely active - in the past 10 years they've built 750 houses and are aiming to round it off to an even 1000 for their 10th anniversary next year.

The only difficulty I had with the trip was not being able to speak Spanish. It really is all pervasive in South America and English is greeted with stony blankness. We had such a great opportunity to get to know locals but language was a barrier. There was also a lot of pressure on the Spanish speakers in our group to translate for the rest of us.

Next time I'm heading to South America I'll habla espanol muy bien.

Hasta la victoria siempre!

Paraguay Panic

AARRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Going to Paraguay tomorrow and have done about 5 minutes preparation for it. It's also the beau's birthday tomorrow so am taking him out for dinner tonight. Time for packing: 0 minutes...oh well.

Over the past week I've attending a first cousin's wedding (first wedding attended en famille - and quite enjoyable actually) and spent 3 days on Inis Mor with the gang for Chelle's 30th - lots of cycling, swimming and picnicking - a wonderfully wholesome weekend.

Back at the office it's been hectic to get stuff sorted before I leave - it looks like September and October will be very busy months promoting the new Local project and next year's internationl trips. To be honest I'm looking forward to being busy and doing some event planning, the summer has crawled by at work with everyone away on trips and no events happening.

*************************************************************************************

So Paraguay...? What do I know...



Well it's Spanish speaking....has a large German speaking population also....weather should be nice enough....the country has a reputation for corruption....

And that's about it. Never have I know so little about a country I'm about to visit.

What could possibly go wrong?

Tom, Tom, Tom.

Dammit....I just can't find the time to do the Tom Waits concert on Wednesday night justice - wedding today and off to Aran Islands tomorrow for the weekend.

Fortunately lots of other people have managed to say what I wanted to say so here are some of my favourite reviews:

bomhemian.com

Irish Times

Jim Carroll Blog

He played for 2 hours 45 minutes, played a wide range of stuff including Tom Traubet's Blues (didn't think he played that anymore), Christmas Card From a Hooker, Hoist that Rag and lots of stuff from Real Gone, Mule Variations, Alice and other recent albums.

The venue was a circus tent and he was most definitely the Ring Master, conducting both his band and the audience and letting his body express the music when he wasn't singing; stomping and gyrating like a much younger man.

And his voice...oh his voice. Rough, lacking in clear diction, has seen better days...but oh so filled with emotion and beauty. The ache of heartbreak and despair hit on a gut level and the quips of a whimsical chancer between songs made you laugh just as deeply.

So, so, so glad I got to see him live. He did not disappoint.

Oh this Canal is Grand Alright

Loaded gun found in canal

Garda divers have pulled a loaded handgun from Dublin's Grand Canal believed to have been thrown away by a man when he was challenged by officers.
Specialist units also recovered two mobile phones from the waterway following the alleged incident at Dolphin's Barn late on Wednesday.

The 27-year-old suspect arrested at the scene is being questioned at Kilmainham Garda Station under the Offences Against the State Act.

Leinster Leader

This professional hitman, who was wearing a bullet-proof vest when arrested, was found right where I go jogging....


How grand.

Lines Written While Jogging by the Grand Canal, Dublin

Now that I'm settled into a routine in the new place I've started running again. Usually straight after work I bolt home, change and get out the door before I get lazy.

Unfortunately I'm no longer living next door to the Phoenix Park so I've had to seek out new tramping grounds and the main focus of my attentions has been El Grande Canal.

According to Wikipedia:

The Grand Canal (Irish: An Chanáil Mhór) is the southernmost of a pair of canals that connect Dublin, in the east of the country, with the River Shannon in the west, the two canals nearly encircling Dublin's inner city. Its sister canal on the Northside of Dublin is the Royal Canal.

According to Wikipedia also, it looks like this:



Hhhhmmm.

Now maybe the Grand Canal looks like this near the leafy suburbs of Portobello and Ranelagh...in fact, yes, it definitely looks like this there but in my neck of the woods it's less idyllic.

My route usually consists of heading up Tyrconnell Road to where the canal passes by the Blackhorse pub and Luas stop and heading east along the canal past the Drimnagh, Goldenbridge and Suir Road luas stops.

Ah Drimnagh.... Yes that's the place you hear on the news from time to time - a stabbing here, a shooting there, the daily drug bust. A place with which I was utterly unfamiliar a few months ago is now my neighbourhood or 'hood if you will.

The canal is this area looks a little more like this:



In fact when you google 'Drimnagh' 'Canal' you get a picture of this from a Flickr account:


Ah it's not that bad really - there are still trees and greenery, ducks and swans, pretty locks and people walking their dogs. There's just added traffic cones, trolleys and other rubbish in the water, added winos and junkies hanging out by the banks and the melodious ring of squad car sirens in the air. I'm beginning to see the same people out at the same time every day - one gentlemen with can of cider in hand shouts encouragement as I pass and berates me if I've given up running by the time I pass him on the way back - just what I need!

At the moment there are plenty of other joggers and dog-walkers around, kids swimming by the lock at the Suir Road junction and families feeding the ducks and swans so it feels safe enough. Once November comes around, however, and it's dark early in the evenings I don't think it will be safe for a woman on her own but maybe you could say that about the Grand Canal as a whole or anywhere in Dublin really.
I hate winter.

Meanwhile it is summer (today anyway) and while it's not so 'stilly, greeny' as when Patrick Kavanagh wrote about it - not with the Luas and cars trundling by non-stop and no more does the barge come up from 'far-flung towns' like Athy, in parts it's still 'leafy-with-love' on a July afternoon....

Lines Written on a Seat
on the Grand Canal, Dublin

'Erected to the memory of Mrs. Dermot O'Brien'

O commemorate me where there is water,
Canal water, preferably, so stilly
Greeny at the heart of summer. Brother
Commemorate me thus beautifully
Where by a lock niagarously roars
The falls for those who sit in the tremendous silence
Of mid-July. No one will speak in prose
Who finds his way to these Parnassian islands.
A swan goes by head low with many apologies,
Fantastic light looks through the eyes of bridges -
And look! a barge comes bringing from Athy
And other far-flung towns mythologies.
O commemorate me with no hero-courageous
Tomb - just a canal-bank seat for the passer-by.

-Patrick Kavanagh

Thanks to Wikipedia and Matthew S. for the Grand Canal pics.

Big Up to Big Love

Yup just when I thought all was lost and I was to starve culturally for the week, theatre swung in to save the day.

Big Love at the Peacock was great - a great play with a great cast and beautiful set, brilliantly directed by the (yet to disappoint) Selina Cartmell.

Based on The Suppliant Women by Aeschylus (believed to be the oldest surviving play of the Western world), Big Love tells the tale of 50 women being forced to marry their cousins against their will. It sets the scene for much discussion on gender roles and relations, marriage, power and love.

The beau enjoyed it (Yey the beau likes theatre!) but was unimpressed by the portrayal of men in the play, one of whom gives a speech moreorless justifying domestic violence. I'm pretty sure that character wasn't meant to be a symbol for maleness or a role model within the play. I think the beau was right, however, to think the male perspective is underrepresented in the play. We get to hear from the women far more than from the men and it might have been more interesting had it been more balanced.

Yet again the Guardian review verbalises my thoughts succinctly and the Irish Times review pinpoints some of the shows minor flaws.

It gets the Dobbyn 'worth a look' verdict.

Gimme gimme gimme....a decent movie please.

Mamma Mia last night.

I was hoping for light, cheesey, sing-along Abba fun times.

Sadly this movie disappoints even the lowest expectations. It's probably best summed up by a reviewer at the Rotten Tomatoes website:

...like cotton candy, unsubstantial, brightly colored, way too sweet, and ultimately unsatisfying in any meaningful way. Plus it might just make you just a little nauseous...

Really hoping Big Love at the Peacock tonight rescues me from the cultural quagmire that this week has been so far. Theatre - don't let me down you hear?!

Don't Trust the Critics

We went to see The Visitor last night instead of Savage Grace, principally because it had gotten better reviews across the board.

Why?

How?!

How did this schmaltzy, patronising film get such good reviews? It's awful - don't go see it! Give me Julianne Moore and incest over this Disney crap anytime. (So sorry we voted you down Ciara - we will bow to your superior judgement next time).

Upon deeper inspection I found this review today and it's a lot more accurate than the ones on metacritic.com.

Saying all of this The Lighthouse Cinema is gorgeous - beautiful decor, airy and spacious - a great addition to the cinema scene in Dublin.

The next movie better be good though!

Here I Go Again...

Back from Herrang - and still wrecked.

Who would have thought that dancing all day and all night for a week would be tiring? It didn't help that the 'private' room had a constant stream of people seeking showers going through it....really need to become a better sleeper.

It was a great week overall though - Herrang is still a fun, happy place and yet more Irish people got hooked this year. I especially enjoyed the final night party 'Home of the Happy Feet' - a bingo hall, nurses going around giving out 'medication', a senior Olympics, quilting, knitting, easy-chew food - so much imagination and creativity. Will get some pictures up as soon as I figure out how to get the new broadband working on my laptop at home.

Busy week of cultural imbibement ahead - Savage Grace at the Lighthouse Cinema in Smithfield tonight, Big Love at the Peacock on Thursday, Painted Filly play readings in Project on Saturday, TKO at Whelan's on Saturday and...um....Mamma Mia on Wednesday night....ok I know it will be awful, if this review is anything to go by anyway. I have a morbid curiosity about it due to my love of Abba music and how good the stage musical is meant to be.

I think it'll be worth it to see:
a) Pierce Brosnan attempting to sing
b) Meryl Streep doing the splits
c) to get to eat a big bag of popcorn and maybe some Ben & Jerry's ice-cream. (why else do we go to the cinema really?)

Reviews and reports here shortly.

This One Time in Dance Camp....

Day 2 of classes here at Herrang Dance Camp - and in that short space of time my love of dance or 'joie de danse' has thoroughly and completely returned.

HDC is still a fun, happy place to be with maniacs who're obsessed with swing dancing all around. Everyone is still being overcharged for crappy, overcrowded accommodation but at least everyone is in the same boat - no VIP section here.

Mitzy and I are in the TV room of a big family home- there are at least 12 people in the house and 5 others in a 'house' out the back and the only shower facilities are through our room. Last night at least 8 people traipsed through circa 3 am for showers including one couple who we think had sex in there... I kid you not.

Many faces from last year are back (if I could've hand-picked the people I'd have liked to see back here I'd have picked all the same people :) I'm finding the classes quite easy and am wondering if I might have been ready to audition for the advanced Lindy class -maybe next time.

Live band tonight, Blues night tomorrow and Cabaret on Thursday - I won't be getting much rest over the next few days.

Oh well I can sleep in the office next week....

Shore Leave

Sweden, Sweden, Sweden... The country where I want to be...
(to the tune of Finland, Finland, Finland.... Monty Python)

As I sit in the office with torrential, incessant 'wetting' rain pouring down on the bleak Dublin landscape, I smile, smugly.

For I am off to Sweden tomorrow :) Land of permanent daytime, sunshine (well more than here) and swing dancing....

Yes I'm going to swing camp in Sweden...again.

How to describe Herrang Dance Camp?

Well you'll find it near Lennox Avenue:

You get to do lots of this:

And some of this:

And sometimes this:


Dancing. All day, every day, all night, every night. Non-stop (well except to re-fuel on chocolate brownies from the Blue Moon Cafe).

Dance floors that look like this:


And every week a Cabaret like no other:


It's a little like Kellerman's in Dirty Dancing except the only activity is dancing and everyone's either a hot Johnny Castle showing off their moves or a Baby eager to learn all they can as quickly as possible.

Yaw Herrang-time again :)

House-roasting Imminent

Isn't it pretty?

We've been the house 2 weeks now - we've registered with ESB, Bord Gais, have booked our Sky package, have put up our Galway Arts Festival posters and have even procured some bedding plants for our tiny back garden (thanks Mom).

We're settled. I'm properly at home somewhere for the first time since I left Drogheda (no offence to Phoenix Manor but it never felt like my home). We've lived up to our promise to cook for each other (well two of us anyway...not look at any Mitzy in particular...ahem), share the cleaning, have long chats over tea way into the night...and now it's time for the housewarming.

This Saturday night will see us opening the doors of Hope Cottage to an assorted jumble of friends and co-workers curious to see what house could possibly have won our fickle hearts. We've invited way too many people including lots of dancers who will weep at the criminal lack of dance space afforded to them. We've billed it as a barbecue although the rainy weather forecast will probably put a kibosh on that.

We have, in fact, yet to start any preparations for this party whatsoever (it's tomorrow) so I really hope that all 130 invitees don't show up....

We really should warn the neighbours about this one.






Cinematically speaking:

Gone Baby Gone South Boston thriller about a missing child-- really rather good flick--can't tell the story cos I'd end up giving away twists and plot spoilers but good job done by both Ben and Casey Affleck who directed and acted respectively (and respectably). Worth a look.

The Weir @ the Gate

Wonderful.

Excellent.

Argh superlatives are letting me down here....

I was going to review it properly but I don't think I can top Helen Meany's review here.

Basically - it's great.........go see it.

A Midsummer Night's Day Dream

Another summer Monday...another day of feeling dazed and confused in a half-empty office wishing I was anywhere but here. In summer all office work seems to move more slowly. With so many people taking holidays decisions take longer, it's harder to 'touch base' with people and to get feedback.. (Don't ya just love office jargon?)

Why don't more offices just shut down for a month in summer? It would give everyone a decent break without having to worry about what emails they might be missing. It would be something to look forward to and would rejuvenate the workforce in a big way. So little work gets done in summer anyway - seriously I think I'm on to something here.

Saying all of that - if I had this June off and was spending it in Ireland I'd be pretty ticked off - the weather has been anything but summery; chilly temperatures, heavy rain and, over the weekend, howling gales. I made the brave step of actually walking to work this morning (a pleasant 30 minute walk) - for a car-dependent like me this was big. I want to do this every day, both to give me more exercise and to quit using the petrol-guzzler so much, but the forecast for the rest of the week? 'Spells of heavy rain in many areas'. Why must the weather gods taunt me so?


Midsummer night has come and gone - the days will be getting shorter from here on in - there's a cheery thought. We spent the 21st doing a pub crawl along the Red Luas Line for a mate's birthday - 7 pubs in 7 hours taking us from Goldenbridge in as far as the Jervis stop. Living by the Luas is great - an all day ticket costs a mere 5eur. I could go to Tallaght, Smithfield or Dundrum all in a single day...it might be more excitement then I can handle.

The folks came up to check out the house on Friday and were duly impressed by its 1940's Dublin splendour. They also got to meet the beau and, despite the efforts of mates to scare the Yank off with talk of my mother, all got on well. Phew. He pretended to be interested in sport so as to win over my brother and father, I gently kicked my mother under the table anytime she said something like: 'Why is it Americans are so fat anyway?'.

Duty done.


For now anyway.



Culturally speaking:
Theatre: Going to see The Weir in the Gate on Tuesday - directed by Garry Hynes with a terrific cast. High expectations for this one.
Reading: Innocent When you Dream - collected interviews of Tom Waits. One to dip in and out of but full of Waits-gems and journalists trying desperately to describe his voice: "...like it was soaked in a vat of bourbon, left hanging in the smokehouse for a few months and then taken outside and run over with a car"...
Listening: Tom Waits - Real Gone - how had I not heard of this album before now? Fantastic.

Hungry for Bread Like This

Cooked my first meal at the new place last night. M & M were both in Galway so it wound up being an all male affair for the breaking of bread in Hope Cottage. Five guy mates and the new beau all ravenous having come straight from work and laying into multiple bottles of wine.

I chose an old favourite that I can cook blind folded which was a wise move considering I was operating in a new kitchen. Apart from one minor crisis involving the absence of a strainer for the rice the meal was cooked with ease. I wasn't all that worried about what the lads would think--they're pretty happy with anything hot placed in front of them; one of them layers his food with an inch of salt prior to tasting it...

I was anxious however to impress the new beau who has already cooked me a really excellent risotto and who has displayed a taste for fine dining. I can cook better than a lot of my friends but I'm happy to cook basic meals in general and I'm no expert in herbs/spices/vintage wine/mouldy cheese etc. I can do a mean casserole and mashed spuds but duck a l'orange? No.

He said he liked my Rogan Josh but I don't think I blew his head off with a gourmet bazooka... Probably for the best - no point him thinking I'm something that I'm not. I won't burn the scrambled eggs but I also won't be making blue cheese sauces anytime soon. Hopefully he won't dump me for a chef de partie from L'Ecrivain in the near future.

The wine continued to flow post-meal and the conversation turned (as it inevitably seems to do these days) to American politics. Obama was lauded, Clinton was dissected and the beau's penchant for voting Green was attacked. Well used to the accusation of 'wasting his vote' he deflected criticism easily - isn't the biggest problem in American politics the two-party system? Isn't this what democracy is all about?

A 90 degree shift in conversation led to dissection of all the latest blockbusters at the cinema; poor Indiana Jones 4 got bullied to death and Sex and The City isn't even on the radar of possibility for the lads. Then we moved on to TV series of the last 5 years. Conclusion: Lost is back on form, 24 has lost it and The Sopranos will never be topped.

It being a Thursday night the lads had the good sense to motor home shortly after midnight leaving myself and the beau to tidy the kitchen while musing on the evenings ramblings.

I love cooking for others. I love bringing people together in a relaxed environment and soaking up the craic and interaction that follows. If I could afford to fork out for the cost of food for 6 people every day I would do so. Humans are social animals and eating alone is the saddest thing in the whole world.

The girls will be moving in properly on Sunday and from then on social eating is the order of the day. We've discussed this a lot and they feel the same way I do. No more meals-for-one or fast food; just proper meals at a proper dinner table with gallons of wine and bottomless buckets of conversation.

Man does not live by bread alone.

Da 'Core

Well three months down the line; countless lost hours on daft.ie; many new grey hairs later and our search is finally at an end - tonight the 3 House-keteers move into a bee-yute-tee-ful 3 bedroom house in Inchicore.

Thank flip.

The house in Tyrconnell Park has just be renovated and has tasteful decor, brand new appliances and old-world 1940's charm. It's perfect. From the yellow roses over the door to the skylights in the kitchen I couldn't have designed a nicer house.

It will be a bit of a squeeze--these houses have little in the way of storage space and the bedrooms are compact but the girls and I are determined to make it work.

It's also further out of town than we had hoped for but with several buses serving the area and the Blackhorse luas stop nearby we should be alright.

The main thing is: I'm moving into a pretty house with friends. I haven't been this excited since the days of the Fairy Princess Castle in Drogheda with my old teaching buddies. Living with friends is like being permanently on holiday: always cooking and making tea for each other, cracking open a few beers after everyone's had a hard day at work, planning parties and movie nights, and, of course, the pillow fights in our underwear.....

(Husky tones: that fantasy moment is dedicated to all my male and lesbian readers out there...)

In all likelihood I'll be ready to strangle one or other of the ladies in a matter of days for using the last of my milk or leaving masses of hair in the shower..........but for now I'm basking in the bliss of optimism and beautiful possibility.

Hope Cottage is now open for business.

Awaiting Tom

Tom Waits tickets secured! Seeing him on the 30th July!

Happier than a Hooker in Minneapolis no wait....happier than a Sweet Little Bullet from a Pretty Blue Gun....no that's not it....happier than a.....than a:
Jitterbug boy Drunk on the Moon on a Little Trip to Heaven (On the Wings of Your Love)...ya that's it.

Happy.

Children are playing
At the end of the day
Strangers are singing
On our lawn
There's got to be more
Than flesh and bone
All that you're loved
Is all you own....

Maybe when our story's over
We'll go where it's always spring
The band is playing our song again
And all the world is green.

Back in the Office Blues

Ok to be honest I'm not remotely blue: I just came back from a great trip, I've got a job I really like, I saw the Boss rock out the RDS yesterday, it's summer with long evenings and unfreezing weather.

I'm really rather sublimely happy.

Why yes there is a new man in my life--how did you tell?!

He's great, it's great, I'm happy. Let no more be said about it.

The only stress in my life right now to be honest is the continuing state of homelessness of the Magnificent 3: the M&M sisters and me. We've been looking for a nice wee 3 bedroom house or apartment in affordable range of charity workers for, oh, 2 months now. We've looked at a dozen or so places and have yet to find a place we like that won't make our bank managers weep.

Poor Mitzy is at the end of her tether having been the anchor of the search since March. Both Mo and myself have had breaks from the search with our states-ly visits but she has been the one seeing property after property while still living in a dark, filthy (although brilliantly situated) dump.

Enough of this fannying about. Time to find us a house.

And with that I go to check out a place near where I currently live--it's affordable and in a nice neighbourhood--pray it's nice....

The Big Easy

Agh--have been on the internet for ages and somehow only have 12 minutes left in which to write an entry--point format needed:

* Have been in N'Orleans since Saturday--stayed in the French Quarter for two nights and am now in a cheap backpackers hostel miles out of town.

* French Quarter is sublimely wonderful--architecture like Paris (with a hint of the set of a western), coffee and pastries like Paris, climate like South of France... and jazz everywhere! And when I say everywhere I mean everywhere! Every shop, cafe, bar--it even billows out of the cars as the crawl down the narrow streets. Those who know me will know how perfect a town it is for me.

* I got a big shock when I left the quarter to come out to the hostel however--still so much destruction from Katrina evident--every second house is boarded up or completely wrecked. Passing under a bridge I saw 10 tents and about 30 people milling around them--this was evidently home for them. Left me feeling a bit winded to be honest.

* Have a lot more exploring and relaxing to do--off to hit the pool at the hostel now....life ain't too hard in the Big Easy ;)

Done Already?

And so several hundred nails, shingles, 2X4s and gallons of paint later it's all over. The Jimmy & Rosalynn Carter Work Project ended this afternoon amid lightning and thunderous downpours, photoshoots and hugs.

As I sit at the make-shift internet centre in the foyer of the hotel I'm watching the volunteers slowly drift into the dining room for their dinner. Hard hats, toolbelts, sunburn and limps abound. I met Americans from so many different states I've lost count....

There was Dallas, from Phoenix; Cleveland - he was from Detroit; and Tex... well, I don't remember where Tex come from.

They came from all over; some just for the week squeezing the time out of their ridiculously short holidays; some have been here for months/years already, so moved by the events of Katrina they had to come help. Most strongly in evidence are the Americorps volunteers comprising young people who take a year out between high school and university to serve society. We've also met quite a few retired couples that are living out of RVs in a constant state of volunteering - one couple are driving from state to state building Habitat homes where ever they go. They aim to hit every state with the possible exception of Hawaii - fair enough.

The local Habitat organisation on the Gulf Coast was formed by two separate affiliates joining together in the wake of Katrina and Rita. They estimate that almost 7,000 people have volunteered with them since 2005 and their constant message is 'Don't forget about us'. This area is nowhere near recovered from the hurricanes (almost 3 years on). While they've built over 1300 homes so far thousands more are needed. Over 200,000 people are still displaced from New Orleans alone and in towns like Biloxi and Pascagoula certain neighborhoods were entirely decimated.

One lady tried to describe the impact--not only do you lose everything you own, including your job in many cases, but so do all your family and friends. How do you recover from that?

Kenya Wilson and her two girls have been living in a damp, stinking 2 bedroom apartment that was flooded by the hurricane. Hers was the house I helped build this week- a three bedroom house built 5 feet off the ground with a perfectly shingled roof (well the bits I did :). It isn't finished but it will be soon and, while it would have been built whether or not I had come on this trip, I'm glad some of my sweat and tears went into the building of it.
Here's the build in stages:




I really didn't think I'd enjoy the building aspect of the build as much as I did - but boy is it satisfying to swing a hammer! Most of the skills I picked up will be utterly obsolete in Ireland as building is completely different at home - even the terminology is completey different--who in Ireland is going to know what sheetrock, siding or penny nails are?

Thus ends my first Habitat for Humanity build-- every single American I know in Ireland has done one-- do I get my passport now?!

Tomorrow I hit New Orleans for some well-earned R&R - beignets and Bourbon street call.

Laissez les bons temps roulez...

The Building Bug

Day Two of the build stumbles to a close here in the land of opportunity. Adorning my tired body are blisters, bruises and, despite the factor 50, an attractive builder's tan (like a farmer's tan only with boots and shorts' marks also). It's a good kind of tired though--sleeping like a dead baby at the mo (that's a good thing).

How are things in Eye-r-land?

You're from Eye-r-land? Eye-r-land?! My you've come a long way....

So it turns out we're basically the only non-Americans on this build. When they ask you where you're from they expect to hear state, not tiny European island far, far away. We have immense novelty value to random strangers...so far it's been a good thing but may become wearing as week goes on.

I'm volunteering on house no 19 along with the Northern Ireland team, a crowd of employees from Delta and a few other randomers. The Northern Ireland crew are great craic- a bizarre mix including a former minister, an Tyrone GAA fanatic and an English teacher (they're always cool) who's pulling a sickie for the entire week. They're permanently in good spirits and are trojan workers on the site ().

Delta have 60 employees in total participating in the Jimmy Carter Build. They're a major sponsor of Habitat for Humanity so lots of the staff have been on loads of other builds before. The fact that they're airline employees does come through from time to time though. Georgia sees that everyone has the correct type of nails: Would you like an 8d or 16d honey? Malcolm sees that everyone has enough to drink at all times....

It's been really hectic on the site since Monday morning. The foundations were all done before we arrived and so far we've put up all the walls, most of the roof, done the insulation and put up 5 million 'hurricane proof' bracket thingies. The brackets are bolted on between the foundation and the walls every 6 inches around the house and 14 nails go in to each one. I've become pretty nifty with a hammer quite quickly.

I'd forgotten how satisfying physical work can be--seeing a problem, coming up with a solution and physically putting it into place yourself. Along the front and back of the house the nails had to go through a metal plate for one half of the brackets. They had to be hammered about an inch from the ground so it was tricky to find an angle that worked. Eventually I figured out that the only way to get a good swing at it was to stand up and hammer it between your legs. it looked awkward but it worked and soon everyone was copying me.


Today we were up on the roof hammering down board type things. Fortunately it was overcast most of the time so we weren't cooked as much as we might have been. The only annoyance was the proliferation of insects attacking us from all sides. The most common one being the 'love bug'.

Early on we noticed this insect which travels exclusive in pairs....copulating pairs. Kenya, the future homeowner of the house we're building, giggling told us that they called them 'love bugs'. Well I had to look them up--check out the link to the wikipedia article here: Love bug. Let's just say the love bug lives a short but blissful life ;)

In the late-afternoon we had a surprise visit from another volunteer on the build....former President Jimmy Carter. He strolled up (followed by 5 black cars and lots of guys talking into ear pieces) to say hello and check on our progress. He jibed with the builders, hugged the homeowner and left us all with a warm glow inside... He's got the Bill Clinton charisma added to a grandad hugability.

Both Barack and Hillary need to work on their hugability--McCain has it in spades and these middle American types like it....everyone here hates Bush (Democrats and Republicans alike) but quite a few like McCain...be warned!

Anywho that's enough for me to have earned my dinner--casino hotel buffet here I come...

Foxy Biloxi

No time so point format post I'm afraid:

* I survived the 20 hour journey through the airports of middle America to get to Biloxi, Mississippi late last night (well it was 11pm USA time but 5am Irish time--big yawn).

* We're staying in a Casino Hotel that's ridiculously comfortable and air-conditioned and it all feels a bit odd so far. The people running the build are super nice and friendly though....there must be a catch....

*The catch is our builds start at 530am every morning this week. Apparently on tomorrow's agenda is putting up the walls and roof of our house (in Pascagoula, MS)....just the walls and roof so.

*It's pretty smokin hot outside but I haven't been out in it for more than 5 minutes yet--apparently it hit 90 F sometime last week....I don't know quite what that means but they seemed to imply that was hot.

* I'll be spending most of the week hanging out with the Northern Ireland team and thus am being exposed to both Northern and Southern accents at the same time...expect me to sound funny when I get home. "Aye, how y'all doin'?"

* Lemonade and cookie social in hotel function room happening shortly.....definitely not in Kansas anymore.

More later in the week.

Swing News

The swing community are 'a buzz' with the success of a short film featuring their talents that was on RTE last week.

Swing Talking

Swing Talking is directed by Anna Rodgers, and produced by Siobhan Ward, both amateur Swing dancers, and choreographed by Lucy E. Dunne. Aside from the Irish dancers on screen, much of the crew were made up of Swing dancers from Dublin. With just a week to prepare for the shoot, everyone teamed up, and helped create this short passionate jazz whirlwind, which also works as a metaphor for love and relationships.

If you swing dance in Dublin you will recognise most of the faces in this film. It features performances from Lucy Dunne (who flew in from Boston), Vincenzo Fesi (who flew in from Italy), and Avril Ní Chonaire (who bused it from Galway!), as well as Anita Walsh, Jonathon Gordon, Karl Kyck, Nicola Reville, Ciaran Houlihan, Johanna Foster, Siobhan Ward, Rose Cherry, Cahal Flynn, Daniel O'Neill, Libby Molony and Donal O'Kane. Maria Tecce, the Jazz singer and DJ does the voice over.

Swing dancing is a conversation between two people – not a choreography, and some might say, it’s a metaphor for interpersonal intimate relationships. The right balance of connection and tension is the key. You have to start off slow, and get to know each other. Then it can take off if you have the right connection. You have to communicate and listen to each other, or else the dance gets a little crazy, with both of you fighting to do your own thing. You might want to switch partners, or dance with two people at the same time. And in the end, you have a final dip, and then part. But sometimes, if it’s really good or you want to try again, you stick around for the next song.

This playful, familiar, and somewhat subversive form of dance is accessible to everyone – watching it makes you smile and want to get up and move to the music which we’ve all been listening to since we were born. The set in which our dancers perform is almost bare, yet in lit corners are symbolic props and indicators of the past – an old gramaphone, a saxaphone on a chair, a double bass. Projections of old swing movie archive flicker on the wall as they do in people’s unconscious memory. This is a dance with serious history. We’re all familiar with Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, but this dance really came from groups of black dancers in segregated ballrooms in Harlem.

With stunning dance scenes, dramatic lighting, and a dream like narrative on love and dance, this film captures the beauty of Swing in a breathtaking 5 minute Jazz whirlwind.

The link is here:
Swing Talking

Shine On Oh Ball of Flame

"Oh I'm so hot"
"It's boiling out there"
"I'm roasting..."
"I'm melting....I'm melting"(Wicked Witch tone of lamentation)

Yes ladies and gentlemen for the first time in (it feels like) years the sun is shining in Ireland. The ground is dry, the air is dry, one's skin feels a pleasant sensation when exposed and the sky is a curious blue colour.

Could it be?

Is this...?

Is this summer? (wonderous tone of awe and amazement)

After a wonderful May Bank Holiday weekend (Lainey Fest) spent in Courtmacsherry, West Cork, involving kayaking, forest exploration, games, drinks and 'Gay Icon' Night (TM), I'm more in love with my country than ever. A sea of bluebells and wild garlic in the woods, the waves crashing on the rocks at Dunworley beach and wonderful friends with which to share it.

To quote Kurt Vonnegut:

"If this ain't nice, I don't know what is".

New Orleans - Land of Dreams

Well, I wish I was in New Orleans, I can see it in my dreams,
Arm-in-arm down Burgundy, a bottle and my friends and me

Hoist up a few tall cool ones, play some pool and listen
To that tenor saxophone calling me home
And I can hear the band begin "When the Saints Go Marching In",
And by the whiskers on my chin, New Orleans, I'll be there

(Tom Waits-I Wish I Was in New Orleans)

I'm heading to New Orleans in less than a month and I'm getting pretty hysterically excited about it to be honest. It's a place I've always wanted to visit (other American cities on my list include San Francisco and Chicago); the history, the music (it's the birthplace of jazz for crying out loud!); the food, steam-boats and street-cars, the Mississippi River and Lake Pontchartrain. As I look at my Lonely Planet the familiar street names echo in the chambers of my musical memory: Bourbon St, Burgundy....Basin St....

Basin Street is the street
where the best folks always meet
in New Orleans, land of dreams
you'll never know how nice it seems,
or just how much it really means.

(Ella Fitzgerald 'Basin St Blues')

Obviously, post Katrina, New Orleans is not the town it used to be. Since I'm participating in a build in Mississippi (Biloxi or Pascagoula) I've been reading up about it and am blown away how such an appalling tragedy could happen in what is ostensibly the 'richest country in the world'. No, not the hurricane, but the way it was handled: the pathetic preparation, poor maintenance of the levees and the hopelessly inadequate response from FEMA (the Federal Emergency Management Agency) and the US government.

The storm was first spotted over the Bahamas on 23rd August 2005. Over the course of the week it was upgraded from Category One to Category Five killing 7 people in Florida when it made landfall. Mayor Ray Nagin ordered an unprecedented mandatory evacuation of the city on the morning of Sunday 28th August. It was a better-than-average evacuation considering how many people normally choose to 'ride out the storm'. Of the 20% of the population who chose to stay in the city, however, many were poor, elderly, disabled or simply didn't have a car with which to leave.

Baby, please dont go
Oh, baby please dont go
Baby, please dont go
Down to New Orleans
You know I love you so
Baby, please dont go.

(Van Morrison/Them - Baby Please Don't Go)

On the Sunday night the storm weakened and moved slightly away from the city and, while it was still immensely destructive, people thought they had escaped the worst. By the following morning, however, floodwalls failed in various locations including the Lower Ninth Ward and water started flowing into the city at a fast pace. In total 80% of the city was flooded, bringing toxic swamp-like conditions to the town.

And then the chaos really started....

Looting and rioting engulfed the city as people faced dehydration and starvation without visible signs of help being on its way. Rescue efforts were hampered by rumour and miscommunication and the true extent of the catastrophe took several days to sink in with the Bush Administration. George W. visited the city 5 days after the hurricane and at that point 28,000 national guard troops finally arrived to put order on the city. Too late for the 1,500 citizens who had died (Katrina's total death toll was 1,836) and too late to prevent Bush suffering an 8 point drop in approval ratings in less than a week - people aren't stupid.

Good morning America, how are you?
Say don't you know me, I'm your native son
I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans
And I'll be gone five-hundred miles when the day is done.

(Willie Nelson-City of New Orleans)

Since 2005 New Orleans has been slowly crawling back to life. It's now back up to about 60% of its pre-Katrina population and much of the CBD and tourist districts have sprung back to life. Whole swathes of the town (including the 9th Ward), however, remain unreconstructed and many of its former residents doubt they'll ever return. The full consequences of Katrina for the town remain to be seen.

I won't have a pre-Katrina image with which to compare what I see when I'm there. I do intend, however, to do a 'Katrina tour' which takes people round the 9th Ward to see the devastation first hand and to talk to as many people as possible about their experiences in 2005. Ireland doesn't have hurricanes, tornadoes or cyclones so the idea of losing everything in one night is pretty hard for me to grasp.

I'm pretty sure my trip to'the Big Easy' will not be easily forgotten.

Happiness is...

Yesterday, the 6th day of April in the year of our Lord 2008, the day of the Connemarathon dawned bright and cold over Galway. We looked out the window to see frost, hail showers and also scorching sunshine. Typical start of April weather; the rí mhógs as my mother calls it.

The 3,500 strong crowd gathered at the start line in Leenane, taking in the majesty of Killary Harbour in the shadow of Mweelrea. We reluctantly stripped off jackets, hats and scarves and huddled together for warmth before the race began at high noon. 50 yards down the road a local leaning on his gate shouts support - 'Nearly there!' We guffaw at the hilarity of it but deep inside I know it's not funny.

Before we reach the first mile marker the sun appears and suddenly we're running in a tropical paradise. By mile 2 we're positively scorching and discarded jackets and hats start to litter the ditches on either side of the road. Blue skies, the sun on our faces, babbling brooks and waving heather; the first 8 miles were really quite pleasant.

After that....well no amount of pleasant landscape could disguise our legs' dissatisfaction at having to tackle hill after hill after hill. Burning pain took us over Failmore river and blinding agony up the long slow incline of the 'Hell of the West'. Every so often you could get some water at the side of the road or overhear a conversation between two runners but mostly it was just you and the road, each as stubborn as the other.

And then, suddenly, the end was in sight - crowds of people lined the thirteenth mile and wells of energy sprang forth to keep us going. At 2 hours 10 minutes on the clock I crossed the finish line.

Never was I more happy to see Maam Cross in all my life... Medals and hugs, the most delicious food and refreshing drinks followed - happiness it turns out is as simple as not having to run anymore ;)

Currently I'm suffering stiffness and pain in pretty much every muscle in my body from my hamstrings, quads and calf muscles (expected) to my back, shoulders and even the intercostal muscles between my ribs (unexplained). I'm moving with all the grace of an arthritic 90 year old.

Apparently John Treacy's four principles of training prior to the 84 Olympics were "Believe in yourself, know yourself, deny yourself, and be humble." So I will be humble and say that I'm no athlete. I also know myself, however, and if I choose to do a full marathon in the next few years I will do it. I just need to decide to do it.

That's the hard part.

The Republic of Conscience

by Seamus Heaney


When I landed in the republic of conscience
it was so noiseless when the engines stopped
I could hear a curlew high above the runway.

At immigration, the clerk was an old man
who produced a wallet from his homespun coat
and showed me a photograph of my grandfather.

The woman in customs asked me to declare
the words of our traditional cures and charms
to heal dumbness and avert the evil eye.

No porters. No interpreter. No taxi.
You carried your own burden and very soon
your symptoms of creeping privilege disappeared.

-------------

Fog is a dreaded omen there but lightning
spells universal good and parents hang
swaddled infants in trees during thunderstorms.

Salt is their precious mineral. And seashells
are held to the ear during births and funerals.
The base of all inks and pigments is seawater.

Their sacred symbol is a stylized boat.
The sail is an ear, the mast a sloping pen,
the hull a mouth-shape, the keel an open eye.

At their inauguration, public leaders
must swear to uphold unwritten law and weep
to atone for their presumption to hold office –

and to affirm their faith that all life sprang
from salt in tears which the sky-god wept
after he dreamt his solitude was endless.

------------

I came back from that frugal republic
with my two arms the one length, the customs
woman having insisted my allowance was myself.

The old man rose and gazed into my face
and said that was official recognition
that I was now a dual citizen.

He therefore desired me when I got home
to consider myself a representative
and to speak on their behalf in my own tongue.

Their embassies, he said, were everywhere
but operated independently
and no ambassador would ever be relieved.

Running Just to be on the Run

After several hours tinkering with the course planner on www.run.com yesterday I realised that I've been totally underestimating the lengths I've been running in training for the half-marathon.

Instead of being comfortable doing 12/13km as I thought I was, it turns out I'm comfortable doing about 8km and am most uncomfortable getting to 12km.

I went about 11km yesterday after work and am stiff as a board today--including a bizarrely stiff neck that causes me agony if I turn left - yes I'm no longer an ambi-turner. Swing dancing should be fun later this evening ;)

How the hell am I going to do 21.5km up and down Connemara hills on Sunday week?

It seems I'm running out of time (boom boom). A lot of pain is coming my way on April 6th and there's not a lot I can do about it.

Ciara - my Irish Daily Star

Finally the rest of the world can understand my awe and respect for my housemate and friend Ciara Boylan.

Not only has she got her viva for her phd this week but she also managed to start a 'media storm' in Ireland yesterday with a carefully timed email to the Russell Brand show. She had noticed some overlap in the topics under discussion on his show and those that popped up on the Ray Darcy show.

Her biting email caught the eye of Brand's researchers; he devoted his show on Saturday to the 'theft'; the Ray Darcy show responded on Monday and today.....her dream of tabloid coverage came true!

Page 3 of The Star features the story of 'out-of work sculptor' Ciara Boylan and her provocative email habits. She got her picture in the paper and all!

When interviewed about her 15 minutes of fame s glowing Ciara said "It's great--I've had the best day of my life. I'm not going to stop here - TV is next!"

"I want to thank ace reporter Bob Cox, the support of my family and friends and, most of all, my future husband Russell Brand for rising to the bait".

Good luck on Thursday Ciara, oh and happy birthday for Friday.

You rock.

Dear Dirty Dublin

I'm beginning to see the nastier side of Dublin life....Got my brand new shiny red bike nicked at the weekend.

Bastards!

There's a slim possibility that I may have left the padlock on the shed unlocked so I can't even be righteously angry at the theft - I was asking for it.

They even nicked my bicycle pump.

Ggggggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

*******************************************

Meanwhile 100 Minutes goes up tomorrow night and I'm operating the lights a few nights this week.


*busy*

*******************************************


Training update:
So it's less than 5 weeks to my half-marathon--time I started, you know, running and stuff.
I did about 9/10km on Sunday (after 12 days hiatus) and now have legs stiff as concrete. It's kind of a good feeling though...not sure why.

Goals:
* not to leave it another 12 days till next run.
* not to screw up the lights of the play when I'm responsible.
* to get lots of 100 Minutes posters up over next few days.
* to track down a cheap second-hand battered looking bike that no one will want to nick...know anyone who's selling?

Same Weekend

In the same weekend that Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova win the Oscar for Best Original Song in a Feature Film, representing our country with pride and talent.......we elect as our representative to go to Eurovision none other than.....

Dustin

the

Turkey.


Just how incongruous it is that these two events coincided I cannot gauge as yet.


But it's big - big I tell ya!

Sick

http://www.asofterworld.com/


I'm in recovery from a nasty vomiting bug - the horrible bit involving puking every hour and wanting to die in between is over. Now I'm just wrecked and, although I should eat, am very suspicious of food in general.

Woe is me.

The Show Must Go On...

So after a restful one day's break I'm back in organisation mode - 100 Minutes 2008 is running in Project from 5-15 March and I'm in charge of publicity...

So come see it please!

It's 'ten short plays about now', all new writers and young talented actors and directors. I've sat through early rehearsals and I can already say without hesitation that it will rock your world (not like a big bag of drugs, more like a really good cake, so says the DOD).

Painted Filly Theatre was set up by my buddies Ruth and Jennifer back in 2005 and has produced consistently good stuff ever since. Check out www.paintedfilly.com for more info and reviews etc.

You can book your tickets at www.project.ie or 01-8819613.

Over and out.



Du jour:
This Business of Love - Domino - hard to track down song that was used for a dance routine at Goodnight Sweetheart - truly sensational! Voila. Daniel and Sandra.

And the Oscar goes to....

Me! For pulling off the Red Carpet Cabaret!

Despite a venue without a bar or a sound system I managed to get a kicking swing night together with Cabaret performances, an Oscar poll and raffle.

I rock.

It's been a mental few weeks but I never felt that stressed - I never felt that I wasn't in control. I might finally be ready for some serious event management.

Which is lucky because I'm doing publicity for 100 Minutes in March, I have more fundraising to do....oh and I'm Communications Officer for an NGO!

Did I sign up for a half-marathon in April too?


I'd better start training....

Ladies Night

Me and the gal pals attempt to have a Girly night yesterday was an unmitigated failure.

Instead of girl talk, Dirty Dancing and glasses of wine in our PJs we had Rugby, steak sandwiches, more rugby, dirty pints and 16 straight hours of drinking and partying.

All in all a great day!

Home.

Ciara had to climb the gate to get in - you know it's a good night when the buzzer isn't working when you get home.

Now we're having cheese and crackers and tea *happy*

We don't want to go to work in the morning.

Ciara here, she who had to climb the gate. No minge soreness, though the spikes did cut if very fine, or would have done if they had cut. Band were good. enough. One was 16 year old sounding like 20 year olds (Arctic Monkeys) the other were 27 years olds sounding like my youth (gone). Amen people. Amen. Amen to heaven we're all still here amening.

Ok bed now.

Stress Pants

Exceedingly stressed organising the charity swing night in February - really didn't leave myself enough time considering I'm going to England swing dancing the weekend before and that leaves.....um......one weekend in which to prepare for the whole thing. Luckily the spot prizes are pouring in so the raffle will be good....unluckily the dance performers have feck all time to rehearse so the 'cabaret' side' of it is likely to be shite. D'oh.

I'm calling it the 'Red Carpet Cabaret' cos it's the week before the Oscars. We're using Fimbase as a venue, the dance performances will all be movie-themed, there'll be an Oscar poll competition, movie clips will play in the background and there'll be popcorn!

Film-tastic.

Ps Ciara's amazing.( she made me write that) Shut up Ciara!

She's telling me about her dead list for 2008- the morbid competition (run by Canadians) where you predict what famous people are going to die in the coming year. On her list: Aretha Franklin, Gorbachev, John Goodman, Maggie Thatcher, Ian Paisley, Kurt Douglas, Little Kim, Naomi Campbell, Keith Richards, OJ Simpson, Janet and Michael Jackson-you get more points for young people so you've got to consider who's old, who's fat and who lives on the edge.............................I didn't say it was a nice competition.

We're going out to a gig at Whelan's tonight and after my stress pants week I need a few beers - since I don't want a hangover we're gonna start early and finish early - I've just finished my first beer in weeks - God it was good. So much for my fitness kick..........but in fairness- there are crazy blizzards outside, work has been mental, I'm organising an event that I'm worried will be awful - if alcohol wasn't made for situations like this then when is it?

Anyway it's time for beer number 2 :)

Bow Before Me

I am a fitness God.

Not a day has gone by in the past 3 when I have not performed feats of endurance beyond that of mere mortals (ie stuff I couldn't have done a month ago).

On Friday I ran the prom in Salthill - I'm not talking a gentle jog from blackrock to Seapoint. I ran from my house in Knocknacarra to the end of the prom at the GCI an back...by my reckoning at least 6km. But this would not ordinarily have been a wonderous achievement - this day I did it in gale force winds.

When the wind was behind me I ran double time when it was against me I more or less ran on the spot while sand stung my eyes and seaweed got tangled in my hair. I am a fitness God.

On Saturday I spent 4 hours learning the Tranky Do, a very physically and mentally challenging jazz dance - despite having done parts of it before and knowing most of the individual steps involved I found it hard. I'm just woeful at remembering what step comes next so while everyone else is Susie Q'ing or doing Boogie Drops I'm usually Falling off the Log.

After a coma-like nap I was out dancing again at a swing night in the Office bar in Salthill. I am a fitness God.

Today, despite aching limbs and weary bones I forced myself out for another run - not quite so long as Friday and in much nicer conditions (positively Spring-like). But a run nonetheless not two days after a previous run - I am a fitness God.


And it feels good.



Du Jour:
Song - The Hill by Marketa Irglova 'Once' Soundtrack.

Imagine the divorce proceedings...

There are 7 teenagers in Ireland on their second marriage.


God bless the Census for telling us these amazing facts.


Marriage number 2 and not even 20.


Man I've got to get my act together...

A Table Too Far.

Well it's a week on and training has stalled somewhat. After my epic run last Sunday my legs weren't functional till oh about Wednesday. The following few days involved a night of swing dancing, a hatha yoga class but no running.
I went for a short run through a rain-sodden Phoenix park on Friday after work (when you have ducks keeping you company on a jog you know you're in Ireland) but have failed to don my running gear since then. Tut tut.

I did make the ostentatious purchase of a bicycle yesterday which, I think, indicates my commitment to this 'getting fit' lark. I got a helmet, lights and a florescent strappy thing to wear so I'm visible at night. I mean business.

Of course the forecast is for non-stop torrential rain tomorrow so I may not abandon my beloved Fiat Brava just yet. The new Eco-friendly, healthy Ms Bones is on her way though.

Really.

I mean it!

You readers know me too well.....

Anyway the reason I didn't get out for another long run this weekend (aside from the miserable weather) was that I my hosting duties for my long awaited Blues night occupied so much of my time. Extensive cleaning of Phoenix Manor was needed, as was shopping for a mountain of food and booze. Hours were spent making playlists of Blues music (of which I had almost none before Peter burned some MP3s for me - thanks Pete).....and a good 40 minutes was spent trying to wrestle a table out of the kitchen to make room for dancing.

Sadly despite Ciara and my mammoth efforts the table was not willing to be evicted. We managed to get it into the hallway but further than that it would not budge. Towards the living room it got jammed on the doorway and towards the front door the hall narrows. I was fully prepared to chop 4 inches of each of the table's legs (I really don't like that table) but Ciara counseled forbearance. Instead we moved the table from the living room (I table I quite like) into the back garden (there's no justice for decent hard-working tables in this world) where it got rained on the entire night. When I went to take it in this morning it was covered in white patches where water had sat on it. I was full sure I had ruined the table but now that it's dried the patches have disappeared. Anyone know what phenomenon this is?

The party itself was great -we stuck to dim lighting using only a few strings of fairy lights, candles and a red lamp shade for effect. With Billie Holiday, Bessie Smith, Muddy Waters, BB King, Ella Fitzgerald (only the mournful songs) and Tom Waits on the stereo it made for a very mellow, speakeasy style atmosphere. Too mellow really--the dancing didn't start till 1am cos everyone was happy chatting away. In attendance were a random mix of dancing and non-dancing buddies who all got on remarkably well (some of them a little too well- you know who you are). I had never really seen the effects of vast gin-consumption before....

And what did we learn?
No 1. no house is too small for dancing,
No 2. blues dancing is for doing not for watching...and
No 3. gin is not our friend, no matter how good an idea it seems at the time.


Du jour:
Song: Silver Lining by Rilo Kiley
Book: Wuthering Heights (Confession: I've never read it before.....That's bad. I mean I have a degree in English and was teaching literature to teenagers without having read it. If the teaching council ever find out......)

A Half Marathon? Does that mean I can do it half-arsed?

I’m normally good at keeping my head down for January as diets and gym memberships start flying about ready to hit vulnerable people in their post-Christmas sluggishness. I haven’t escaped this time, however. It appears that I’ve signed up to do a half-marathon in April.
No, not a 5 or 10 km fun run on city streets; a half-marathon – that’s 13 miles or 20 kilometres and it’s part of the Connemarathon which involves hills ie running up hills. Feel free to commit me to an online mental institution.

It’s all the fault of my do-gooder, go-getter co-workers here at Habitat for Humanity. They’re all tall with perfect teeth and enjoy mountain climbing while wearing ethically manufactured boots and when they reach the top eat organic lentil soup. First one signed up for the Connemarathon, then another and suddenly I was the only one in the office who hadn’t signed up. Well I couldn’t be Johnny-no-mates for 3 months left out of all the planning and training talk – and I couldn’t miss a weekend of craic in Connemara. So what if I’ve to run 20 kilometres – I’ll manage.

At least that’s what went through my head when I filled in the online application – that’s the problem with the internet – everything’s so easy – spend 50 quid on a book – just one easy click....spend 120 quid on a flight to Rome – simple....suddenly your buying antique furniture on ebay and gambling thousands away playing poker with random Russians. Money doesn’t feel real when it’s just a number on a screen and marathons don’t seem difficult when they’re just words on a screen.

One good thing about it is that it will help me do my fundraising for the trips to New Orleans and Ghana building houses that I intend to do this summer. Doing two Habitat trips in one year is another good reason to reclassify me as mentally unhinged, considering the amount of planning, fundraising and preparation that goes into a volunteer trip abroad. I really want to do both the Jimmy Carter blitz build in May and go on an Open Team Build to Ghana in August though. Sure I’ll give it a go anyway.

I started my training yesterday with a run in Phoenix Park. Whenever I’ve gone jogging in the past I’ve been easy on myself- 10 minutes of running earns 5 minutes walking. So whenever I’ve gotten out of breath or the lungs start to hurt I’ve eased up and taken a break. I can’t afford to do that if I’m going to complete this half-marathon in less than 8 hours however, so yesterday I pushed it.

I went all the way from my home in Stoneybatter to the Chapelizod gate (via Corkscrew Road as opposed to straight road) and back only stopping after particularly tough hills or when my knees felt weird (I’m worried about damaging my knees – what if I couldn’t swing dance?! It’s a thought to unbearable to consider). By my reckoning (measuring on google maps) that was 8-9 kilometres so it was a good start. Admittedly I can barely walk today and it’s evident that I’ve awoken quite a few muscles that have been enjoying dormancy for about a decade but surely that’s the worst over with now? Surely it gets easier from here on in?

I’ll keep you posted throughout my training and should you want to donate to the worthy cause of Habitat for Humanity and support my lunatic bid to become a long-distance runner click here:
http://www.mycharity.ie/event/elaine_dobbyns_event

Remember money is smaller on the internet so give big!