Bon Jour Provence!

A mini-break has been scheduled at last. Can't wait. Tommy and I are headed off to the French Riviera this week. We fly into Nice and are staying in a hotel in Cannes. I'm planning to eat my face off, rent a bike and tour around the coast, drink lots of regional red wine, and check out a few sites including the Matisse and Chagall Museums in Nice. Good stuff. Needless to say, I'll be coming back with lots of pics for the blog. If anyone has been to Provence / Cote d'azur / French Riviera and has any tips for us, they would be well appreciated. If not, Au Revoir pour Maintenant... Talk soon.

(Do) Good things come in Threes?

Three months and counting...until the big three-oh (30). I'd like to pretend that this doesn't concern me, that it's just a number and I can cope perfectly well with change of all sorts...but obviously, that would be a big fat lie. There's something symbolic about thirty... as if it's the final hurdle to true adulthood and once past it, you can no longer consider quitting your job and backpacking through India, piercing your tongue, or wearing your hair in pigtails. Might as well just give up, sit back in my Ikea kitted out apartment, work late nights to further my, "career," and add to my wine rack. Except that I don't have an Ikea kitted out apartment, my career appears to be, "on-hold" and my commitment to it tenuous at best, and any wine that enters my house gets consumed before it could form any semblence of a collection. ...And therein lies the problem. I think I assumed that I would have it all figured out by now, that I would have published a novel, become the new basquiat or Beth Orton, won a gold medal in the Olympics, or at least turned into a jaded but successful corporate whore with a plasma screen TV and open-plan flat. Thirty always seemed both so old and so far away... and here it is. And I'm still broke, still renting, still trying to sort out a viable career that doesn't make me want to rip my hair out, and still waiting to be able to go into some yuppie wine-bar and drink expensive bottles of French wine without looking at the price tag.

I know, I know...poor me with my oh-so difficult life. I do realise that I've got it really, really, good in comparison to many and I honestly do appreciate that. But Thirty does give one pause and I really can't help but take stock and ask myself if my life is living up to my expectations (which admittedly are a little high.) I think I will raise my kids to be happy janitors. ;) When I was a kid, I really thought that I was special, that I would grow up to be an exemplary adult and I would change the world in some way or accomplish something really notable. Remember those books about Harriet Tubman, or Thomas Edison or the guy who invented penicillin that you used to read in school... and your teachers would give you that schpiel about how these people believed in themselves and distinguished themselves from the pack and all that cult of individuality stuff. Maybe they should have just told us straight up: You guys are not that special and most likely you will grow up to be middle managers or sell car stereos, or work in a toothpaste factory and the sooner you get used to that idea, the better. Oh and while we're at it, there's no Santa Claus and no Easter Bunny and someday a long way in the future, you will probably have no teeth and need to wear adult diapers. Maybe they should just get it all out of the way early and spare us the disappointment. ;)

On a more positive note, I suppose turning thirty makes me realise that, in the words of the prophetic, John "Cougar" Mellencamp, "your life is now." There's no putting off your dreams... so I guess I had better start writing my novel now. ;)

Happy Paddy's!

Hey All,

Hope that wherever you are in the world that the weather is better than it is here in Dublin. Lots to do but it is as they say here, "a duvet day". Open fire and a copy of The Quiet Man would be more appropriate that going outside.

Tom and I had a late night last night and so are getting a late start this morning. We decided to celebrate Paddy's Eve with Italian food and Russian Vodka...haha. Actually, we had a great, great night out. Went to Dublin's Italian quarter (very small but very authentic.) We went to an Italian Wine Bar called Enotecha Delle Langhe and oh, the deliciousness. Lovely, spicy, glasses of Italian Red Wine in big-bowled delicate wine glasses. We also had a board of crostinis: toasted italian bread with, pesto, or sweet roasted peppers, or tomatoes, or courgettes in a tasty, slightly garlicy mash. Yum. After that, we murdered a Caprese, made with the most luscious mozzerella, fresh tomatoes, greens, and garnished with proper olive oil and balsamic. Absolute Heaven, I'm telling you. The atmosphere in the place was great too. We sat at the bar but the place is small and packed with rustic wooden tables and even a sofa or two. Left feeling more satisfied than I have in a long time. Post-prandial, we went into Pravda, the Russian themed bar (like the People's Republic on a grand scale.) I had been there a few times but never noticed that they had a sizable Stoli collection behind the bar. Oh Stoli, how I have missed you. Nursed a Stoli vanilla and Coke in the upstairs bar and looked down into the main bar where they where showing the cheesiest leprachaun film I have ever seen. Top o' the mornin' to ya and all that fiddle-dee. Bryce and Michelle came out and met us and we found a table and just kicked it for a while. Good food, good drink, good company. Good Stuff huh?

Well, get out yer leprachaun hat and your plastic ass cheeks with pog mo ghoin (sp?) written on them. Yikes. Every other sad bastard in Dublin will be donning their pseudo-leprachaun gear and if you can't beat 'em, join 'em...haha. Have a lovely Paddy's and try not to drink any green beer.

A Very Long Engagement

the ring, the rose, the champers in a plastic cup
Originally uploaded by di_juice.

...or a very short one as the case may be. We may have been married for months but the engagement has just begun. haha. The ring we designed was finished last week and Tom and I took a hike up the Cave Hill in Belfast where I got my first look at it (along with a rose and some champers.) He even remembered the plastic cups. What a doll.

Better late than Never

red leaves
Originally uploaded by di_juice.

Click the pic for more Botanic Garden shots (which I know you have all been anxiously awaiting ;) ). You'd never believe this place is in the middle of north inner city dublin. Definitely voted the best place to bring a book and a snack and find some little corner to plunk yourself for an afternoon. Gotta love the life of leisure. (If only I could spend everyday this way.)

All Left Feet

Rioters like shoes. At least, this is what I have to conclude after seeing the destruction wreaked upon Foot Locker and Schuh during the Love Ulster Riots last week. The Irish Daily Mail (not the pinnacle of journalistic integrity but good for a few down and dirty pics) ran front page photos of rioters strolling out of Foot Locker, with armfuls of Adidas bags and Puma trainers. The shoe stores were more wrecked than anything else I saw in all the destruction.

Some of this shoe related bootie included 99 special edition Nikes (retailing for 100 euro a pair). Amazingly, instead of pairs of shoes, the stolen footwear consisted of all left feet which begs the question of what one does with a whole bunch of left feet. Maybe, someone is planning to use them to create a sculptural ode to Nike, or will it be a performance art piece on the Troubles in NI? "We're all left feet up here." Or maybe, someone is planning to start a shoe company for amputees? It is a mystery.