Tramp Co

Ok, so it's actually Tram Co and is the name of a cheesy as shite bar in the student ghetto of Dublin but I've been thinking it's a suitable name for my local post office as well. By tramps, I mean not only women with ten children and make-up that would make a transvestite cringe but also the trainspotters-in-training in their dirty jeans looking like they might keel over and die any second. Not to mention the young disinfranchised males travelling in packs and the neighborhood busibodies who loudly complain about anything and everything. God, I love my neighborhood.

Today was tax day. Unfortunately, even moving out of the entire USofA does not exempt one from paying Uncle Sam his due. Since I am a woman of forsight and organisation, I was, of course, running off to the post office today with my Massatucky state taxes in hand desperately seeking an April 18th postmark. I arrive to find what appears to be a large crowd of the aforementioned demographic watching an older man trying to break into the Post Office. Somehow, the lock jammed and the post office had to hire some guy to literally crow-bar the door open. After a half hour wait in between a young blondie and an old lady with a crutch who literally tried to run me down to get a better spot in line, the lock was broken and like Metallica fans trying to get an autograph, we all squeezed in the door. Waiting in the que, I had in front of me one group of young rough-and-ready guys trying to cash their dole checks without proper ID, several screaming children picking up pieces of the crowbarred door and getting yelled at by their mother, and a good dose of cranky old ladies stepping on my heels to get their stamps. Oh joy. I did finally get my stamps and proceeded to put a stamp on the wrong side of the only envelope I could find in my apartment to hold my nearly overdue taxes because I was busy hating all humanity. Bastards. Maybe I should just give in, shoot some heroin, pop out a few sprogs, and draw my eyebrows on. At least I would fit in.

What do I know about Basketball? I'm Scottish!

Spoken in a loud pub in the financial district of Dublin by a slightly tipsy scotchy bemoaning his loss in the fantasy basketball pool. Ah well, maybe ya had to be there. Well, it's been too long my fine friends, but here are a few more linguistic gems for your coffers...

Rapperbait: Hoodlum, Hooligan, Skanger, Skiprat. There are so many words for these little scoundrels...I do wonder why??

Wingnut: Someone with ears like our old friend Steve-o of auto-defenestration fame. Ears like satelite dishes. Ears like this wierd guy on the North American Sports Network whose ears are not only huge but also pointed oddly forward as if they've been ripped off Reservoir Dogs style and sewn back on. yum.

The Jacks: Les Toillettes of course. Don't ask me why.

Giz us a...: Used in many a northy sentence as in, "Giz us a fag." Translation: I'd like a cigarette please (not a gay man thank you very much.) In case yer still confused, it's Give us a fag. The royal we in effect. Me and my imaginary friends.

Manky: Something that's icky, bad-tasting, slimy or otherwise gross. Like Irish cooking...haha.

Yous: What would seem to be grammatically incorrect English is widely used and I fear, like all the rest, slowly sneaking into my vocabulary. Usage: "Would yous two ever shut up. Yer doin' my head in," or "What would yous'uns like for yer dinner?"

Fierce: Used mostly in the South I think. Usage: "That man is fierce tall" or, "I've a fierce thirst on me." (For what, you might ask? But really you should already know.) Up north it would be a powerful thirst instead of a fierce one. Buncha parched lads in these parts.

Pong / Pongy: Smelly, smelly. Usage: That lad has a pong on him...he's a pongy fecker.

Poxy: Little, insignificant, shite.

There are so many but I hear them, tell myself to write them down for future blogging and then have another whiskey and forget. Alas, that's all yous get today.

French Drivers = NYC Cabbies on Crack

Yes, it's true. They drive like absolute maniacs. After realizing that the cars would swerve between lanes like they drank beer for breakfast, that mopeds and motorbikes would appear out of nowhere like loud flying hairdryers and that noone seems to know what their indicator it for, I gave up the driving to Tommy. Once the stresses of driving were firmly on Tom's shoulders (poor lad) we had a grand time. The southern coast of France is kind of like a southern Spanish mountain town, a tropical island and South Beach, Florida all rolled into one. There is money, money and more money everywhere...giant yachts the size of small oceanliners dot the coast. Cannes' main boulevard is a who's who of high-end retail, omega, fendi, prada, louis vuitton etc... etc... But if that can be overlooked (cuz I'm not particularly moved or awed by riches) the natural surroundings are amazing, the people are much friendlier than Parisians and the geographic proximity of Italy means that the food is divine. In the spirit of South Beach, Art Deco is also alive and well on the French coast...from typography to architecture to landscaping, it is Art Deco heaven (if yer into that which I am.) And all of this Deco-ness was interspersed with timeless French architecture with it's wide wooden shuttered buildings with ornate wrought-iron balconies. Add to the mix, the mediterreanean influence of the red tiled roofing, the tropical plants in terracotta pots, ornate mosaic tiling and marble sidewalks and you have the South of France. A melting pot of loveliness. My only compaint is my own gluttony. When it comes to cheese, I have no brakes...There were thin crust pizzas covered with gooey mozzerella and fresh vegetables. There were salads with thick slices of goat's cheese. There were cheese plates with melting triangles of brie (and a whole baguette to spread it on.) There was creme caramel and creme brulee with a perfectly caramalized, crunchy, sugared crust. There was fish with creamy sauce and fresh herbs. There was gelato, hazelnut flavored and honey and pine nut flavored and plain old chocolate flavored. And it was all love and all good. In addition to the olive oil, and pistacho nougat, and apricot jam, and ceramics and sunglasses that I brought home to Ireland, I also brought home the world's worst dairy induced stomach ache ever...I may have to go on a vegan detox now ;) but hell, it was worth it.

One of Many Artists on the Square - Cannes, France

Saturday Market in Cannes
Originally uploaded by di_juice.

Click the pic to see Cannes, Saint Tropez, Nice and Monaco. All stunning.

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.

Pancake Tuesday

Okay so it's not as good as Mardi Gras but Pancake Tuesday is what we get around here and it's better than nothin'. Yup, so I bet you non catholics out there didn't realise that today is the day you have the freedom (and one could even say obligation) to eat lots and lots of fried, bready circles...flapjacks, crepes, pancakes... If it's got flour, eggs and butter than get to it.

This tradition apparently started because during lent yer supposed to give up all the good stuff (good stuff being, butter, eggs, milk and other yumminess) so on Pancake Tuesday (really called Shrove Tuesday) you're suppose to use up all the leftover dairy products in the house and feed everyone pancakes. It's also kind of a last hurrah. Eat up cuz lent is long(ish) and you won't be seeing anymore of this stuff until Easter (when you can once again, gorge yourself on chocolate eggs, chocolate bunnies, and other easter basket lovelies.)

It seems slightly odd how religion so often involves food rituals...whether it's fasting, not eating pork or shellfish, not mixing your meat and dairy or eating fish on Friday... Worship the food, or lack there of it. Is it a pagan thing? Is it that some of these things were practical at some point in history? (It just wouldn't do to have your congregation getting poisoned eating bad meat now would it?)

Well, I'm happy to join in and worship the food (just not the rules) and god knows, my pseudo-vegeterian self can easily live without the meat. (Shellfish on the other hand. Not a chance. A life without oysters is not worth living.)

In my foodie world, an appreciation of glorious culinary delight is enough of a religious experience for me. No one who's tasted a homemade warm piece of banana bread with butter or fresh pasta covered in bright green pesto can tell me that that is not communing with the gods. Thank you to the powers that be (if they be at all) for basil and bananas.

Well, since I'm not a Catholic (at least not a practicing one) I will not be embracing lent and saying goodbye to the eggs and butter but I'm happy to eat some pancakes. Bon appetit.

Up the 'Ra

Well, well, well... arrived back in Dublin today from a lovely but whirlwind trip to the homeland. Came back to find that the city has been rioting in my absence. God Dublin, Can I not leave you alone for 10 days without you wrecking the place?! ;)

The Orangies tried to march down O'Connell Street on Saturday (The Love Ulster Parade) and the hardcore Republicans (and some dodgy apolitical skiprats looking for a piece of the action) didn't take kindly to that...to say the least. In fact, they responded by blocking off the whole parade, throwing halfers at the garda, breaking windows, starting fires, looting, burning out cars and other such proactive and productive behavior designed to facillitate further peace and understanding between these two perpetually warring factions. Oh joy.

Amazingly, the Gardai didn't see this coming and decided not to move all the bricks, curb stones, pebbles, bits of cement and other debris which were piled up all along O'Connell street since the city is in the middle of doing some major road renovations. And yes, hindsight is twenty-twenty and all that but even my foreign ass could have figured out that leaving a whole bunch of potential weapons all over the road and scheduling a politically fraught march down said street might not be a good idea. And now the city is faced with a street full of smashed windows and debris.

Sinn Fein proper is distancing itself from all this debauchery and issued a statement before the parade instructing its constituents to ignore this, "Sectarian parade," and to essentially not take the bait and wreck the place... but like everything in Irish politics, there is Proper Sinn Fein and then there are break off extremist factions (criminals in disguise - in my opinion) like the Continuity IRA who refuse to participate in a cease fire or political negotiations of any kind... and apparently these are the peeps who encouraged skangerville to come out and stop this march by any means possible. But I can't for the life of me, understand how there can be a connection between shouting, "Up the 'Ra," and smashing in the windows to the Kilkenny Design Centre and Nassau Street Cafe... Do they have something against arts and crafts and drinking espresso? "Ah, for the love of the 'Ra, let's go loot Topshop and get ourselves a few new jumpers and while we're at it, what the fuck, lets burn out a few cars cuz ya know, that'll really piss off the brits." It is a mystery.

Don't get me wrong, I'm in no way supporting the Loyalist attempt to walk through the capitol city of the Republic of Ireland (which is notably NOT part of the UK). Bunch of inflammatory w*nkers in my opinion but free speech is free speech and the Nationalist / Republican front have unfortunately made themselves look like a bunch of thugs (which some of them no doubt are) with their destructive response. Sometimes you gotta wonder of it's in our nature as humans to try as hard as we can to destroy eachother and any semblance of civilisation. Feel the love huh?

Inside Out

"And so it happened again, the daily miracle whereby interiority opens out and brings to bloom the million-petalled flower of being here, in the world, with other people. Neither as hard as she had thought it might be nor as easy as it appeared." - Zadie Smith On Beauty

Been doing a lot of reading lately, Zadie Smith, Jeanette Winterson, even some extremely depressing short stories about India which I put down after about 10 pages. As you can probably tell, I've got a lot of time to myself at the moment. Read the passage above and I thought it seemed so fitting of my situation right now. As difficult as it may be to imagine, I am naturally a bit shy. (My old co-worker called me a chatterbox...haha...I was just talking to try and cover up the vast expanses of awkward silences in that job...) Don't get me wrong. I really enjoy being social and being with other people. I actually really need and desire it but before I go out to spend time with people I don't know that well, I always get a little nervous and have to make a conscious effort to reach out and make friends. Maybe I just got too comfortable with the ones I already have. It's nice not to have to explain yourself, not to have to earn intimacy and trust, to be able to show up at someone's house and pull off your shoes and sit on the floor and drink a glass of wine in your socks. That said, once I've made the leap and met up with people it is, like most things, not as hard as I anticipated and usually a pretty good time.

Spending this time by myself can be nice. I've caught up on household chores, done a ton of cooking, taken long walks, went to the lovely Botanic Gardens, read all the novels that were piling up on my bedside table... but it also gives me a lot of time to think which isn't always a completely good thing. Quite easy to get wrapped up in yourself, to start thinking alot about your life, the past, the future... This last week has been quiet and mostly calm but right now, I'm really craving some noise... a room full of ladies drinking wine, eating snacks and shooting the shit. I could really use a good, cynical bitching session about someone's day, their crazy boss or mad mother-in-law or that Newbury Street / D4-head Biatch who stole their parking space. Maybe I just need a little humor / humour interjected into my situation. So many things in this life are made bearable by the fact that they can be made really funny. Maybe the problem is really that I need more people to tell my stories to. Or more stories to listen to. I suppose that's the point of the blog eh? But it is a little cyberspace impersonal and there's no laugh track, not yet anyway.

Well better to be in flux, between jobs, between countries, between cultures, between weddings (?!) than to be stuck in a really unsatisfying routine as had been the case for a while. Would be nice to have a little more expendable cash so I could fly me over some entertainment ;) but I guess it's up to me to make it happen.

Yay to Friday which means that there is human contact on the horizon. I'm off to meet Michelle for lunch (a fellow self-(un)employed-person) and later will be meeting up with Helen and Co. for some (what else) drinks and hopefully a bit-a-craic will be had. I need to get my bookworm ass out of this house.

Will give you all the job low-down shortly but that's a whole other blog entry for another day.

Lotsa-love to me faithful readers.
D.

Shiny Peppers in Clifton, Bristol

Shiny Peppers in Clifton, Bristol
Originally uploaded by di_juice.

...and lots more photographic loveliness. Bristol has the largest concentration of beautiful architecture that I've ever seen in one place...not to mention indoor and outdoor markets, picturesque neighborhoods, seriously old-skool English Pubs and the world's oldest suspension bridge. Pretty damn sweet.

Squids and Yo-Yos

Yes, it's that time...another installation of the foreign language that is Irish-English...and these really take the biscuit:

Slow Coach / Too Big for your Boots / Takes the biscuit: So close and yet so far...They're almost like our expressions but just a little bit different. Makes us look like a bunch of cake eating rednecks...Too big for our britches??? Slow Pokes??? Straight outta that gay cowboy movie...Ye-Haw.

On the Lash / On the Piss / On the tear: It wouldn't be right not to include a few new ways to discuss self-inflicted alcohol poisoning.

A few Scoops / A few jars: If one is on the lash they would be consuming these...well more than a few but you get the idea.

Well-Chuffed: Well pleased. Grand so.

Ah sure it'll be grand: Example: How 'bout that hike up Mt. Everest in our skivvies? Answer: Ah sure it'll be grand.

That's Us / Is that us?: Not a philisophical questioning of the nature of self but in fact just a statement replacing my coveted and much missed, We're all set. Thanks.

A bit o' rough: Heard it used on the radio by a northy guy, "Those English girls are posh and all they want is a bit of rough...and I realised that I am a bit of rough." mmmmmmm. The sexy builder with three days of stubble and a pair of dirty work boots on...also seen on Diet Coke ads circa the 1980s.

How's the form? Yet another way to say, What's the craic?

Not too Bad: This is the Irish "fine thanks." As in: "How's t(h)ings?" Answer: "Not too bad." As if things are always shit but you know, today they're not actually as bad as they usually are... A nation with low expectations????

Heart Scared: Scared shitless, completely freaked out... Boo!

Have ye no homes to go to??: As in: It's 3am and the pub is closed but no one's making a move to go anywhere...The nice way of saying...Get the feck outta here and go home to your beds.

Crackin': term to describe a hottie

HCH: Abreviation for a "High Class Hooker." There's been a two day debate going on on the radio about whether Dublin girls are a buncha HCH's. Or as Kanye would say, "Golddiggaz."

Come on to fuck / Shut up to fuck: Not as bad as it sounds... Just used for emphasis as in: Will you hurry the fuck up? or Shut the fuck up. Not a good one to use when speaking to foreign children...haha (good advice from the creative Ireland forums...)

And last but not least...

Squids and Yo-Yos: More slang for the coveted cash...Quid and Euros being twisted in new and creative ways as in: Give us a few squids will ye? or Why can't I win yoyo millions? (or if Tom is the one talking: Maybe we won yoyo milly's!)

If yer scundered by all these strange and startling uses of the English language...just keep tuning in for more expert translation from yours truly... ;)

Cheers.

Ze Darkness

I was dreading the winter weather this year, imagining lashing down rain every morning but I have to say that it's really not been that bad. There have only been a few mornings where I've had to bring the 'brolly. And stranger still, it has yet to dip below 40 degrees. I'm gonna be in for a serious shock when I visit Boston in February. The hardest thing about Irish winter is something I hadn't anticipated at all and that's the dark. During the shortest days - the sun doesn't even rise until 8:30am and it's pitch black again by 4:30pm. Thankfully, I've noticed that the sky is a lighter, brighter shade of blue in the mornings than it has been which gives me hope. I can't wait for Spring. I guess I'm in the mood for a new beginning. Although I've lived here nearly a year now, I really haven't settled in as much as I'd like. I've heard it said that it takes a year to really get comfortable in a place so I guess I'm looking forward to finding my stride here. Hopefully my next employment will be more well considered than my current one. I really made a balls of that one. The next time I'm about to make a really bad decision like that, can someone please talk me out of it!

On a good note, I'm going to join a casual softball team this spring and the cliquey North Dublin Ladies in my yoga class are actually starting to talk to me now that I've come back for a second semester. Assuming I find a job with less of a commute and more of a social atmosphere, maybe I'll even make a few friends of my own...Imagine that. ;)

I went to a leadership training this week that stressed how important it was to have a bit of craic at work...you know, banter, going out for a pint now and then, eating lunch with someone other than your computer, a bit of goofiness, a christmas party...whatever works. And it is so true. I realised that the jobs I've loved most all had great people and a somewhat social, positive atmosphere.

Well, Here's Hopin'. Please send out good vibes (or sumthin') that I won't become the chronically unemployed, broke as a joke, hermit in this town and that my luck is about to change...

On the Up and Up

I am full of blogging guilt...I've neglected my lonely wee blog for nearly 10 days now...whoops. Well, since I will be leaving my job in 8 days (but who's counting) I'll have lots of time to blog my little heart out (as long as blogging continues to be free cuz I'll be broke as a joke in no time ;) ) Am really looking forward to having a bit of down time and to be bidding farewell to my three hours of commuting every day. I'll miss my cheese and tomahhhhto toasties at the Black Bull on Fridays but when I'm lying in my bed on Feb 1st at 8:07am (instead of sitting on the commuter train) I don't think I'll mind at all.

Am still hoping to win Euro Millions so I can spend my days lying on the beach drinking Mojitos but barring that, I suppose I will have to either become freelancer extraordinaire or get myself another 9-5pm. sigh. I'm such an office bitch. Heard the other day that one has more likelihood of being in three plane crashes than winning said yoyo millions (and thankfully the probability of being in even one plane crash is quite low.) But a girl can dream right? Sugar Daddy where are you?! I simply must work on my tan (and I'm not talking tan-in-a-can here. ;) )

Spent the weekend in Belfast which was surpisingly relaxing. Ate pizza, went for a hike, helped Tom's mum make a veggie lasagna for her book club...Am I becoming too domesticated these days? Shit, I hope I'm not becoming more Desperate Housewives than Sex in the City. I'd rather be Miranda than Susan (who bears a frightening resemblance to Michael Jackson if you look closely) anyday. Well, nonetheless, I got my cook on this weekend (and my eat and drink on as well of course...)

On Saturday afternoon post-hike, Tom and I went into the city centre and finally, designed and ordered an engagement ring...nothing too fancy mind you and no diamonds (just can't get into those) but I think it will be lovely when it's ready....just have to wait four to six weeks. After exercising Tommy's Visa card, we decided to check out this new fancy-pants bar called The Vaudeville. The whole place is full on Art Nouveau...It's like Rennie MacIntosh Tearoom meets a whore's bedroom...lotsa curves, red and black chandeliers with lots of little lampshades, super high ceilings, mosaics, faux-marbles, floor to ceiling mirrors etc.. etc.. The whole effect is slightly tacky but kind of cool. And they have tasty passionfruit martinis to boot. yum.

So starts another week. I'm off to lie on my bed with the electric blanket on full blast reading the Sunday Times...mmmm. Hope you're all well and keepin' warm.

I'm yours

Was walking around city centre today on an errand to pick up a print project at a shop along the quays. It was spitting on me all morning - that light misty rain that just makes you feel damp and frizzy - but it was warmish and I had my ipod so I was enjoying being out and about.

Had some time to kill before the train to Drudgeda so I took myself shopping...well, window shopping anyway. The closest I came to a purchase was a red pleather studded belt that was the enticing price of four euros - but do I really need a red pleather studded belt?? Penney's (nearly) strikes again. While I do love my red, pink and white striped velour track bottoms purchased for six quid at Penneys, they don't always come out with stunning gems such as those... ;) (They're kind of hideous but I really do love them...pure cat in the hat.) At the moment, they have a (not so) charming line of baby tees out for spring that only someone under 14 yrs. old or over 300 pounds ever seem to be seen wearing. You know the kind I'm talking about...T-shirts with two strategically placed peaches, t-shirts that say, cutie pie or maneater, or what are you lookin' at? But today's gem was one that said, "I'm his because he appreciates perfection." Ironically, it seems that the further from perfection that a person actually is, the more likely they are to wear that t-shirt. Skanger - o - matic. Not to get all analytic on y'all but don't you think it's a bit odd that the phrase is I'm his? You would think that if one were in fact the picture of perfection (whatever that is) that you would be claiming this perfection appreciating man as belonging to you, not the other way round. Come lick my boots fecker. (I own you, you sad little worshipping, foot licking man who realises that I am in fact way out of your league but appreciates my flawlessness and therefore I will allow you to do all my cooking and cleaning for an occasional snog.)

I should probably be asking myself how my time came to be spent pondering the grammar of t-shirts purchased by illiterates. (You would have to be illiterate to wear some of these shirts, I'm telling you.) Maybe I should go back and buy the one that says 'Geek' or how 'bout, 'Desperately seeking social contact with people who don't smell.' I'm just sayin'.

It can't be good if you don't feel bad

Okay so people are known to overindulge come the holidays...too much Christmas Pudding...too much strong ale...or whatever else you choose to eat, drink or smoke come December, but apparently we are all supposed to pay for it come January. I know this is a somewhat universal phenomenon (at least in developed nations celebrating winter holidays) but it seems the debauchary and penance are on a whole other level in the olde country - at least in this olde country. The Christmas holidays are long (most people have about 7-10 days off) and Christmas is a BIG DEAL, followed by Boxing day which is just an excuse to keep Christmas going a little longer (not that I'm compaining about any of that.) Point being, that people really get into it...it being Christmas...as well as turkey, ham, stuffing. potatoes (roast, boiled, mashed - usually multiple tatty dishes at each meal), lager, wine (red, white, mulled...even a white zinfandel if yer lucky ;) ), Christmas Cake, Christmas Pudding, Christmas Trifle, Chocolate biscuits, even the occasional (or not so occasional) line of coke, handful of pills or other mind-altering bad boys if yer that way inclined. It is the time to indulge with a capital I. And if I thought the indulgences were extreme, the time to repent is just as intense. Every single billboard between the train station and home is telling me how to, "lose a jean size in two weeks" (just eat crunchy nut cornflakes twice a day - you might be toothless but at least you'll be skinny.) Last night, there were three different documentaries about food, the Detox Diet, Super Size Me and my favorite, a documentary about people who can't stop eating... The first thing I saw tonight when I got off the train was a sign announcing the debut of a book called, "The Family GI Index." Ah, just what every family needs...Honey I think your blood sugar is too high... And my favorite morning radio show read off a list of the top twelve worst toxins to ingest - with the number one baddy being "fizzy drinks," - phew at least there's one thing I don't drink (unless you count the all those jack and cokes I drank last week.)

So, Repent sinners, put down thy chicken leg...get yer fat ass on ye olde treadmill and commune with whole grains and flax seed oil. Catholic guilt is alive and well. I expect this to last about a week before that Guinness arm starts gettin' a wee bit twitchy and you just can't help but exercise - your right to party...up goes the pint, down goes the wallet...hee hee. Happy New Year Everybody. And put down that cookie. ;)

Spotted Dick (no custard)

Spotted_Dick
Originally uploaded by di_juice.

and Microwaveable too!

Spotted Dick with Custard

No, this is not some horrible venereal disease you learn about in sex ed. but is in fact, a (supposedly) desirable and tasty dessert. I was wandering the aisles of Asda (which I recently learned is owned by Walmart...booooooo to the evil empire of Sam) and I came across this unlovely sounding dessert in the freezer section. It looks like some kind of cakey thing with raisins (or should I say sultanas as they are known here.) I just started laughing out loud and until Tom came over to see what I was looking at, all the other people in the aisle probably thought I was off me rocker. But, really. Do you want to eat spotted dick??? Truth really is stranger than fiction.

Alcoholism is alive and well and living in Ireland

Well hello all,

Hope everyone had a happy-scrappy holiday season. (Mine is still in full swing.) Love that vacation time.

Christmas in Ireland was as good as it possibly could be (given that I'm away from home and my peeps.) I made Christmas eve dinner (Lasagne of the vegetarian variety, stuffed mushrooms, salad, brownies) and nothing was burnt or frozen or otherwise debacled. Food was delicious if I do say so myself and Tom's family (+ Christopher and Danny) seemed to like it. It was nice to give a little back considering how often I'm fed and watered by Tom's parents.

Christmas itself was fairly mellow, pressies, tasty dinner, plenty of wine and various relatives and friends "calling 'round," to say hello and have a drink or a snack and a bit a craic. I got some lovely presents including a day at a spa in Dublin from Tommy...mmmmm Think I'll avoid the facials though ;)

Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing day nights were all, proper, "piss ups," translation - nights out on the drink - although I make no attempt at this point to keep up with either the drinks or the late nights and took myself home in a taxi on Christmas night around 1am. Didn't want to turn into a pumpkin or anyt'ing... Boxing night was the best night out by far as a good 20 of Tom's friends all congregated at the Spring and Air Brake (strange name for a club eh?) and there were kickass DJs (one being a lady DJ amd good as shit.) It was nice to see all of Tommy's peeps as I think I've met them all by now and can be a bit more relaxed hanging out. have really enjoyed seeing Christopher (who used to live in Boston) and Gavin (who we visited in London) and some of Tom's other friends who I've become kinda fond of.

The down side of all this Christmas revelry is exactly that. Everyone uses the holiday as an excuse to get absolutely blocked. I am by no means a teetotaler (sp?) but it's a little excessive even for me. It's also strange to see the older generation off their heads...I have seen so many of Tom's friends parents in full drunken merriment which is just, well, odd. Or maybe what's really strange to me is how normal that is to everyone else. I realized the other day that I have never seen my own parents or their friends (with a few notable exceptions) really, properly, speech slurring, staggeringly drunk. No doubt, I have seen them indulge in a few too many glasses of wine and get a little bleary-eyed and talkative but this shit is on a whole other level. That said, it is pretty amazing, the honesty you get from people when they've been on the drink all day. It does give me a bit of insight into this culture and this world and some of the people in it. And it can't be said that Belfast don't know how to party. The craic is present and accounted for. It is a world where your most lively night on the piss would be undistinguishable from its landscape and notable only for the hangover (and maybe not even for that.) And it's on those days, that I feel most keenly, that the way I see and experience this country, is through the eyes of a foreigner. That I am different somehow and experiencing things from an entirely different angle from those around me. It does sharpen the senses (except when it dulls them...another shot maybe???) I can't say it's not interesting.

FYI, went out to one of the locals last night and did pub quiz with Tom and friends and one of the questions asked was, "In what US city does the drama Ali McBeal take place?" A question made for yours truly. It takes place in a wicked pissa city dude. I'll leave it to you to figyah out which one. All in all, we came in Second Place and won ourselves ten quid (which was quickly spent on you'll never guess what.) Have to say that I have become a big fan of pub quiz...might have to start being a pub quiz geek...haha. Just don't ask me any questions about East Enders or Manchester United. Kylie who?

Hope you're all enjoying this winter break and have yerselves a happy new year. Oh and of course, Happy Birthday Megs as today is yer day. Hope it's great.

Charlie Brown Christmas Tree

Charlie Brown Christmas
Originally uploaded by di_juice.

In da house...

Gay Marriage, Christmas Saws, and Chimney Wishes

Hi All,

Have been profoundly busy lately (in both good and bad ways.) Thankfully, I get 10 days off for Christmas (love this Catholic Country). I am as burnt out as I've ever been and in need of sleep and good craic and the like.

We did finally manage to get our Christmas tree up although it took us three days from the purchase of the thing to its erection (haha). A christmas tree stand was eventually found although when Tom went to put the tree into it, he found that the tree had a giant knobby end which was too wide to fit into said stand. Long story short, he ended up hacking off the trunk (and this was no branch but a full fledged thick tree trunk) with a serrated kitchen knife. Needless to say, this took him about an hour and the result was wood shavings and pine needles galore all over the living room. Then it took us forever getting the bloody thing straight (cuz the trunk was off kilter on the bottom.) Then, lights and ornaments... I lost the white lights debate but I won the tinsel war...gotta draw the line somewhere ;) At the end of all the effort, we had a slightly dried out tree with white and colored lights and a hodge-podge of ornaments from Tom's Auntie, our basement, and Penneys. It's a total Charlie Brown tree...but it's ours. Maybe it's kind of like ugly children ;) they might be busted but you love 'em anyway...haha. It's nice to have a tree in the house. Haven't bothered to get one for years.

We had a few people over last night (our small pool of friends is even smaller at this time of the year but we managed to convince 4 whole people (if you count 9 year old's) to come over for snacks and mulled wine. I made stuffed mushys, hummus and pita and brownies and Tommy made mulled wine (that was quite tasty.) It ended up being a really nice time. Just before people came, I got that 13 year old birthday party feeling where you wonder if anyone will actually show up...;)

So I didn't just throw in that gay marriage bit in the title for the sake of controversy. Gay marriage has just become legal in the UK and due to Northern Irelands marriage laws, it ended up being the first place in GB to marry some same-sex peeps. This is of course, notable and cool in and of itself and was front page news this week. Crazier though is who was on the front page of the newspaper I was handed last Monday. Lolo, Mina, Jess and I actually met the couple gracing the cover of said newspaper. We met them in a florist shop on the Antrim Road in Belfast last summer. What are the odds? the only two lesbians I know in Belfast, and they are the first couple to tie the knot. Whodathunk?!

Well, I am practically braindead at this point with Christmas preparations and the Christmas Rush at work and fending off my favorite yeast-flavored illness. Got the Chimney swept today (who knew chimney sweeps still exist) so am gonna make myself a big ole turf fire tonight in the fireplace and wrap some pressies. Apparently, when you get your chimney swept, you're supposed to go outside and look to see the sweepy thing (like a black swiffer on a long pole) poke its little head out the top of the chimney. And when you see it, you get to make a wish. I could use some wishes - should get my chimney swept more often. They should advertise - Free Wish with any Chimney Sweep...haha. Right now I'm just wishing for sleep. Am off to take it easy.)

Happy Christmas y'all.

Diana

The lovely Christmas Market in Beal Feirste

Christmas Market and City Hall
Originally uploaded by di_juice.

Click on the pic to see the Christmas Market and various other examples of the Christmas fever that has gripped this country ;) inc. Dublin and the roaring metropolis that is Drogheda...

Just like it says...

Belfast City Hall
Originally uploaded by di_juice.

A Very Dublin Christmas

I don't know if this will be funny to a non-Irish audience but I thought it was hilarious... It's the christmas story, if ya happen to be a dublin skiprat. Ya bleedin' muppets. (note the total lack of final consonant sounds on any of the words...yes I am an accent geek. )

The Knacktivity

Adapted for the Dublin audience:

Dere's dis boord called Mary, yeah? She's a virgin (wha' de fook is dah?)

She's not married or nuttin', but she's got dis felleh, Joe, righ'? He does joinery an' all dah. Mary lives with him in a flah dowwen in Nazareh.

One day Mary meets dis yungfelleh Gabriel. She's like `Wha are yeh bleedin' lookin' ah?" Gabriel just goes "You're fookin' up da spoute so yeh are".

Mary's scarleh. She gives him a fookin' earful: "Are you bleedin' startin'?

I'm no fookin' sluh. I never bin wih no one!"

So Mary goes and sees her cousin Liz, who's six months gone herself.

Liz is on a mad buzz, bud. She's filled with spirits, Barcardi Breezers an' all dah. She sez te Mary " Ah howeyeh, Mary, I can feel me chiseller in me stummick and I reckon I'm well blessed. Think of all deh money we'll be getting from deh social." Mary goes "Yeah, s'pose you're righ' "

Mary an' Joe haven't goh a fookin' bean so they have to ponse a donkey, an' go dowwen the Behlehem on dah. Dey get to dis boozer an' Mary wants to stop, yeah? To have her yungfelleh an' all dah. But there's no fookin' no roohem at the inn, righ'? So Mary an' Joe break an' into this garridge, only it's filled wih animals. Cowis an' sheep an' all dah.

Then these three lads tourn up, lookin bleedin' rapih, wih crowens on der heads an' all dah'. They're like "Ah Jaysis, howeyeh!" an' say dey're deh tree wise men from de East Wall.

Joe goes: 'If you're so bleedin wiyis, wha de fook are yizzer doin' wih dis Frankenstein an' myrrh? Why didn't yeh just bring gold, 20 Blue and Boorberry?' It's all about to kick off when Gabriel turns up again an' sez he's got anudder message from dis Lord hardchaw.

He's like 'Deh coppers is comin an' they're killin all de chisslers. You better fook off to Egypt.' Joe goes 'You must be fookin' off yer bleedin' rocker if yeh tink I'm goin' te fookin' Egypt on a fookin' donkey'

Gabriel sez 'Suit yerself, bud. But it's your look out if yeh stay.' So they go dowwen teh Egypt till they've stopped killin deh foorst-born an' all an' annyways it's safe an' dah.

Then Joe and Mary and Jesus go back to Nazareh, an' Jesus turns water inteh Dutch Gold.

Just Us T(h) ree

Well, We've officially got ourselves a Christmas Tree although at the moment it's lying sadly on its side in our livingroom. We both swore we had a christmas tree stand under the stairs but after tearing the house apart, it appears to have been absconded with by a Christmas tree stand thief...or something. We have lights, various decorations from various Irish relatives and discount stores and the tree, all in various piles on the floor...hopefully we'll get it all sorted by tonight and I will have perty pictures of our efforts. It was actually quite comical getting the tree home last night. We went to the Irish version of Home Depot (called Woody's...there seems to be a connection between DIY and male anatomical hardware there but I won't go there...) We picked out the last halfway decent tree in the place. The trees here must be a different variety as they are much less picture perfect and more like real trees that you just personally went and hacked down in the backyard...there is a charm to them though, in that Charlie Brown Christmas tree sorta way. Anyway, we bought the thing (and a bunch of other stuff that we don't need but seemed cool at the time) and then we were faced with the prospect of getting it home. We just about managed to fit, Tom, myself and a six-foot evergreen in our Volkswagen Polo which (for any of you who've seen it either in picture or person) is quite a feat. It's about the size of a mini...and that's being generous. The tree went from the back of the trunk to the front windshield. We were stopped at an intersection on the way home and a cabbie idling in traffic next to us was laughing his leg off at us and our tree...the christmas version of a clown car. ;)

Hopefully we will soon be sipping mulled wine around our transplanted little pine tree....Cheers.

Continental Christmas

Went to the most brilliant Christmas Market in Belfast, the, "Continental Christmas Market," which consisted of various stalls and tents surrounding the ornately lit up city hall (and of course, a giant christmas tree.) Seems the Belfast city council is trying to start a Christmas market tradition by inviting all sorts of vendors from, "the continent," to sell their wares for the month of December. It was most lovely, with all sorts of trinkets and edibles. There were the most amazing french patisseries with tartes, and gateaux and petit pains and bush de Noel and some sort of potato and bacon dish that smelled amazing. There were creperies and a Paella stand with the biggest vats of Paella I've ever seen, There was a woman selling tiny dutch pancakes served in a paper bag with sugar, and dutch tulips. French soap, dried lavender, leather handbags and belts, jumpers, christmas trees and the like were all on offer. The German "Christmas Beer tent," was serving up, "Big German Bratwurst and 2 pints of Erdinger Weisbier for 5 quid as well as German alcoholic, "Fruit Punch." No german Christmas Beer tent would be complete without eurotrash pop-music and disco lights and this tent lived up to expectation.( David Hasselhoff would have felt right at home...haha) We kicked it with the Germans for a while and then ended up in the Irish beer tent, a similar venue except with fiddlee-dee (Irish tin whistle and the like) and heat lamps which were appreciated but not really necessary since the temperatures here have been strangely warm lately. We wandered around nibbling on all the free samples of cookies and olives and olive oils... and among us (Tom and me and a couple of his friends) we tried Paella, some kind of Nordic pizza, Kangaroo Burgers (really), Paella, garlic mushrooms and a whole loaf of Olive bread....yum. Love Holiday eating 'specially European style. Good stuff

Who's yer Daddy

You Sexy Bitch
Originally uploaded by di_juice.

Happy Fakes and to all a good night.

Christmas in a Catholic Country

Jaysus McChristy, it's Christmas with a capital C in these parts. Dublin is absolutely decked to the halls: lights of all colors draped over lampposts, in the shape of snowmen, and reindeers, and candycanes and snowflakes, wreaths of all sizes, giant christmas trees in the train stations, even life size lite-up and blow-up doll Frostie the snowmen have been spotted in our 'hood. My neighbors have what appear to be pinata style snowman decorations. It's quite something, from the tacky to the magical and back again. Welcome to tinsel town. :) Radio DJs are promoting charities and discussing the (apparently rapidly disappearing) joys of the christmas layer cake. (fyi: this sponge cake is three layers of yellow, pink and brown cake so maybe there's a reason it's going extinct.) All the stores are full of Christmas puddings and Christmas crackers...I even saw something called a Christmas Mallow yesterday in Supervalu which appeared to be a tartlike thing filled with an unappealing amount of marshmallow filling and a little frosted snowflake on top. Mulled wine is also appearing everywhere... mmmm ...certainly don't mind that. More wine, less mallow please. Gotta love the fact that Dec. 26 is boxing day and so while we're all getting back to normal on the 26th in the states...the party just continues in these parts. (Tom has informed me that we're going to some sort of clubby / DJ thing on Boxing day in Belfast with a bunch of the Northy peeps.)

While I will certainly miss all my Boston loves, ice-skating on the common, mulled cider at Wilson's farm, taking out my Christmas ornaments (which mark every year of my life thus far,) holiday dinner with the ladies, and most of all, the warm fuzzies of Christmas Eve at Seventy Perry and eating Cippino (sp?) with crusty bread and wine, it will no doubt be a festive holiday season in Irlanda. There will most likely be some good eating, good drinking, and general merriment all round. You can't say the Irish don't know how to party. Merry, Merry y'all.

Crisis is opportunity right? right?!!!!

Lest you think that I am about to slit my wrists...let me just reassure you that my bad mood is not actually going to kill me. Still, my break from Dublinia and subsequent rocky return has me t(h)inking about alot of things. And I have realized my fair friends, that some changes need to be made, and soon. You have all been telling me this for months...and yes, you were all right. I made some bad decisions when I first moved here but I refused to trust my own judgement in my quest for a settled life and routine.

Thank god for Tommy who has been sweet as pie and came home tonight with sushi and bagels and christmas lights for our soon-to-be christmas tree. (These are in fact, a few of my favorite things. Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens just don't compare... but a few Xanex might have been nice.) What a love. He does know how to cheer a girl up.

Ramblings that I am sure to Regret

Fuck everything today. Fuck plane trips with uncomfortable seats and melting wedding cake on my lap, Fuck transitions, Fuck saying goodbye, Fuck Jet-lag, Fuck insomnia giving me way, way too much time to think about the fact that someday everything I love will be gone, Fuck the fact that someday I'll be gone too, Fuck Dublin and it's cold, rainy, dreariness, Fuck the cabbie that picked me up at the airport and kept on about my big brown eyes, Fuck graphic design and it's inherent desires to please and entice, Fuck marketing and that endless quest for the almighty dollar/euro, Fuck the shallow, sticky-sweet meaninglessness of commercial art and it's oh so self important attitude. Design doesn't make the world a better place so who cares? What exactly is the point. We might as well paint the names of everything with acme black paint and call it a day. Fuck all of the wasted energy that I put into my profession every day. Fuck my own inability to assert myself, Fuck my job and Fuck walking to work in the rain and sitting on that godforsaken train with a bunch of pimped out little catholic school girls. Fuck this lonely, shitty, place where sometimes everything just seems like one long struggle to maintain any kind of positivity, Fuck my own broodishness and my constant struggle against thoughts of the darkest kind, Fuck George Bush for having so much damn blood on his hands and taking away what should be my national pride, Fuck the Doirty Dub gangsters shooting eachother in the head outside my door, Fuck the self-righteous euro trash bastards always asking me to take on the sins of my country. Fuck it all. I'm so tired. And I know I sound like a teenager and I know that I have so very much in my life that is so worthy, my beautiful boy whose eyes alone are worth waking up for, my sweet family who love me more than anyone possibly could, my amazing and inspiring friends, the fact that I have food to eat and a roof over my head and don't live in Pakistan waiting for winter. It's just that sometimes life seems so inherently sad and the everyday seems so incredibly mundane. Do I really want to spend the next 40 years being a bitch to the 9 to 5?

Wicked Pissa

Oh joy. Home sweet. I love it. I absoultely love being home...Hearing those fateful words, "Welcome to Logan inta'national ai'po't" really were music to my ex-pat ears. Who'da thunk I'd be homesick for the voice of a middle aged townie from Southie. Fucking Fabulous.

Have been having a lovely time in my faux cafe society holiday life. (I'm still waiting to win euro-millions but until then, a week off is the closest thing I get to my fantasy of independent wealth.) Been eating glorious food cooked by my incredibly culinarily talented parents, drinking wine (and whiskey don't worry) with my fabulous ladies (and their fabulous boyfriends/husbands/doormats...) The first morning I was here was one of those heartbreakingly beautiful New England Fall days (that's fall not autumn muthafuckas.) I took a walk to Coolidge Corner (my neighborhood of origin) and visited my tailor run by a greek family who welcomed me back and offered to hem my pants on the spot. Everyone really does know my name...

Strangely, the only bars I've been in since I've been home have been Irish ones...haha Hit up the Sligo in Davis the other night and The Druid last night. I've seen more red walls, Irish street signs and posters for the Lisdoonvarna match making festival in the last few days than I have in months of living in Baile Atha Cliath (that's Dublin for all you non-Irish speakers out there.) Wanted to strike up a conversation with the Irish bartender last night...thought we could wax poetic about Tayto's and Cadbury and Bertie and people who wear trousers and enjoy the craic and say things like Wind yer neck in...but I thought he might not appreciate my yank self represenentin' the isle of green so I decided not to accost him. I suspect there are more Irish bars in my future though...will probably end up at Murphy's or Anam Cara or the Washington Sq. Tavern tonight. Irish Bartenders beware... What about ye ya bleedin' muppet? What'sa Craic? God I'm cool. ;)

Was an absolute Domestic Goddess today. Made a cake before noon (with homemade frosting...) and spent the afternoon makin' lasagna and baked ziti with me mummy. Sadly, my first attempt to frost said cake was a sad disaster as the cake was still warm and turned the frosting into warm, white ooze. Luckily was able to salvage it by refrosting hours later so my cousin will have a (hopefully) tasty cake that doesn't resemble a snow drift for his recent college graduation. I've even got a little black mortarboard to put on the top of it. Wicked kitsch.

Have been eating like a champion...hopefully will still fit into my hip euro clothes...haha...when I return to my regularly scheduled programming. Fakes was kick-ass. Chestnut soup, de-boned turkey rolled with figs and prosiutto, cognac gravy, homemade cranberry sauce, veggie lasagna, flourless chocolate cake, homemade apple pie and a whole host of things to be thankful (fakefull ;)) for. Ended up getting into a heated political debate with Lolo's not-her-boyfriend who grew up in the age of bussing in Boston and hails from Southie. Amazing how the Irish-Americans in Boston have moved so far to the right in comparison with the Irish living in Ireland today. Not-her boyfriend was trying to convince me that, "might makes right," as in, Americas got the big guns and therefore everyone should fall into line behind us and let us be the bullies of the world because we are the defenders of the western world and we hook those pinko-commie europeans up with the oil. Yes, I agreed, American is a powerful nation but with power comes a great responsibility to use that power carefully and constructively...two words which are foreign to the current administration in my opinion. Well, you get the idea. Anyway, despite the fact that we think very, very differently about all things political and Not-her-boyfriend was extremely shitfaced, I found the whole interchange to be really interesting. It's a lot more stimulating to discuss politics with someone who disagrees with you than it is to be in a roomful of bobbing heads. Even if he is completely and totally wrong on every front...haha.

Tonight, the fam arrives and a few of my ladies. Hopefully there will be much eating of the Italian food and more drinks and debauchery post prandial. Wicked Awesome. Pissa in the extreme. Yes Suh.

-Wannabe Townie

Pucker Up

Conall, Tommy and Carlo
Originally uploaded by di_juice.

This image just had to go up...if not for the tommy pucker than definitely for that amazing wallpaper in the background ;) You shoulda seen the carpets!

What are you like?

I can't help it. I'm in love with Irish slang so here are a few more little tidbits for your chewing pleasure:

Yer some Langer: Culchy phrase (hopefully you've been dilligently studying your Irishisms and know that a Culchy is a rural type.) American Translation: Yer dummer than a box o' rocks. Yer an ass. Also see: Langer = part of male anatomy best not described in too much detail.

Rare: Nope it's not something hard to find...it's used to describe something / someone who's a bit odd, has bad fashion, or is just wacky / wierd / funny lookin' Used for both people and objects. Usage: Is this skirt the rarest thing you've ever seen? or After I saw those pics of myself on the drink...Jaysus I must be the rarest person!

Rugger-Bugger: The Irish/UK version of a dude-guy who is obsessed with Rugby.

What are you like? Heard this one from a big-eyed girl at Ging's wedding. American translation: What crack are you smoking? Similar use to rare. Example: Enter guy wearing tartan (plaid) trousers...Starts getting a slagging from his friend, "Look at those trousers? What are you like?????

Scratcher: (Noun) Bed. As in, "I didn't get out of my scratcher till noon." Variation: Maggie Thatcher (cockney rhyming slang represent!) Example: Get out of yer Maggie Thatcher ya lazy bastard and come help me make breakfast..."

Well tomorrow I fly back to the old country (for me that is) so it's back to my yank ways fo' sheezy. Beantown's in da house...or something like that. See you all on the flipside.

Wining and Dining...

Hello all,

Only one more day until my holidays begin...yahoooo! Am cramming about a million things into the next two days so will probably arrive in Boston in need of either a drink or a nap (or both.) Got my black tie work do the night before I fly out (starting my vacation off in style ;)) Tried out my fancy-pants attire at Tom's friend's wedding last weekend and managed not to spill anything on it so it will be ready to bust out again.

The wedding was good craic. It was fun to meet all of Tom's school friends and their significant others and the wedding itself was an all day and night affair (which was great once the one-hour mass was over.) It was an uber-catholic wedding complete with communion and hymns and 'peace be with you's' and passages from Genesis. While there are certain aspects of Christianity that I can get down to (i.e. being good to your fellow man, love is the most important part of life, help people who are less-fortunate etc...) but it takes all my will-power not to run screaming from organised religion with it's potential dogma and corruption. Amazingly, the first bible passage chosen by the couple (I assume) was that horrible one about man needing a helper and popping out one of his ribs to whip up a wee drudge to iron his shirts and do his dishes ;). I can't even remotely imagine why any one would choose that passage to begin married life. To each his own, I guess.

Once the Churchy-goodness was dispensed with, the afternoon was spent with mulled wine and shortbread and then of course, dinner and speeches, and more drinks and dancing and the residence bar and more drinks...Good fun. Irish weddings continue into the wee hours so I've learned. When I went to bed at 4am, the residence bar was still packed with people in their wedding finest singing Christy Moore songs (and writing with permanent marker all over one sad bloke who had the misfortune of falling asleep in his chair...haha.)

Met a few of Tom's former cohorts who I hadn't met before and it was great to hear stories of their school daze and meet their wives/girlfriends who overall were a very nice bunch. It's always so nice to meet quality grrls. (Too bad none of them live in the Dublin Metropolitan area.)

The wedding was in Limavady - one of the northiest parts of Northern Ireland so we broke up the drive by stopping in Belfast for lunch with Nathan and Debbie and another one of Tom's old friend's Johnny. Johnny was with his girlfriend and new baby Oona. Whenever I'm around babies, I'm struck by how much work they must be. Oona seemed to have the energy of 10 men. How does anyone do it? It's a good thing they're cute!

Well, must get back to work. Am compiling a new installation of Irishisms to be unveiled soon. :)

Drinkin' Whiskey out of Boots (and other wedding tales)

IMG_6682
Originally uploaded by di_juice.

Click the pic for Northy wedding goodness. Full tales will be forthcoming...

More Fun with the A-B-Zs (that's A-B-Zed's in case you were wondering...)

Hello All...

Here are a few more gems from my ever growing book of Irishisms...

Much of a Muchness: Rolls off the tongue doesn't it...Americish translation: it doesn't matter either way or there's really no difference between them... The old Irish lady equivalent of, "Six of one, half a dozen of another..."

My heads hangin' off me: Oh but there are so many ways to really describe that hangover. Usage: After drinking free cosmos all night on Monday at a schmoozy design thing my head was absolutely hanging off me the next day when I had to get up and go to work...haha. (a true story even ;))

I wouldn't kick her/him out of bed for eating crisps: You can probably tell what this one means...That lady/lad is so aesthetically pleasing that I am willing to live with a world of scratchy bits in my bed...Come hither and eat crisps why dont'cha?!

It works a treat: First heard by me on Irish radio...as in, "It's my wedding day tomorrow and I have a giant spot on my chin what ever should I do...?" Answer: teatree oil works a treat. And like magic...poof the spot was gone.

Cop on / Catch yerself on: Similar to "Wind yer neck in," (see previous post.) Statement: "I am such a rockstar of such grandiose porportions..." Response: "Catch yourself on mate." Americish translation: Get over yourself, wake up and smell the coffee or my personal favorite, "Bitch please."

I'm so hungry I could eat the arse out of a hot buttered donkey...Does this really need any explanation????

Well, back to work, it's nearly 2pm and not a wee-un washed...fecks sake, like.

High Heels and Headaches

I think I am becoming a shopaholic...Have spent the last two weekends trolling from shop to shop. Have two fancy functions coming up and needed to get a dress (and of course then I needed shoes, a handbag, a jumper etc...) Had to find something fit for a wedding and a black tie gala for work. It's amazing how you can go into a shop looking for formal wear and come out with 2 pairs of cordoroy trousers and a belt...(I can't be the only one who does that!) I have apparently become a sucker for marketing...haha. One thing is for sure, Dublin shopping is Divine (much better than Belfast.) Let's just hope I can pay the rent this month ;) Still haven't found that perfect handbag for the black tie occasion...guess there is more consumer joy in my future.

On other fronts, work has been ridiculously busy which normally I would be happy about. Better to be busy than bored... but I am finding myself extremely blocked on the creative front. The last couple of websites I've worked on have been hours of work looking for the concept with little to nothing to show for it. So frustrating. I think it's partially that I get stressed out knowing that there's a lot to do and wanting to bang it out and partially that designing for web is relatively new to me and I just don't have the quick fixes in my head. Either way, I'm ready to pull my hair out lately. Think I have a more volatile relationship with Design than with anything else in my love. Love it and hate it and everything in between. Guess I really need my upcoming vacation...10 days now! Yahoooooo!

Wish me luck walking in the ridiculously glam high-heeled shoes I just bought. Will have to take it easy on the Whiskey front or will spend the wedding this weekend on me arse...haha.

July is October

Happy Halloween All,

Strangely Halloween here bears a striking resemblance to the 4th of July... This is the weekend of fireworks...people have been setting them off all weekend. It's kind of cozy, sitting in my warm house while it's rainy and dark and the fireworks give the impression of a thunder storm out there. The laws pertaining to fireworks must be really different here cuz these are the real thing, put away your bottle rockets. I've been watching explosions outside that more closely resemble the displays on the esplanade than a back yard barbecue. Very pretty (but it is amazing that nothing gets burned down!)

Other than the firworks, it's been a quiet halloween although I got a couple of my neighbor's kids trick or treating and did manage to carve myself a jack-o-lantern yesterday. I guess the days of turnip carving may be coming to an end! Imported pumpkins have appeared in the supermarkets here in the last few years (although they come with instructions for how to make a, "lantern"!) Even though I'm halfway across the world, it still smells like Halloween here and the night has that cold, dark quality to tells you that winter is on its way (although here the dark is much more pronounced than the cold.) When I woke up this morning, I couldn't tell whether it was 4am or 11am...it's just that dark. I could definitely hibernate.

night,night.

To all the Wankers who keep Posting Adverts disguised as blog comments

Lloyd Dobbler said it best:

"I've thought about this quite a bit sir and I would have to say considering what's waiting out there for me, I don't want to sell anything, buy anything or process anything. I dont want to sell anything bought or processed or buy anything sold or processed or repair anything sold, bought or processed. I dont want to do that..."

Or how 'bout just, "Feck off, I ain't buying." Less eloquent but gets the point across just as well... Take yer biz elsewhere.

Cuttin' edge in Carlingford

Carlingford Disco
Originally uploaded by di_juice.

Ye olde Town Diso...haha

fashionistas in da house (and I was there too...)

Hi All,

I apologize for my blog neglect over the past two weeks. It's been crazy busy. Was running the spoiltchild by meself (the company I work for is Spoiltchild Design in case some of you are wondering of which spoiltchild I speak...) and have started my Italian class and continued on with my yoga class.... but things seem to be quieting down now, work is back to normal and I'm awol from yoga tonight as all this hot/cold/sunny/rainy/windy/still weather seems to have given me a cold (what a surprise huh?)

Last weekend I went up to Carlingford again sans Tommy for a ladies weekend with Helen and her friends. Was a little nervous before hand about being thrown into a captive situation with a lot of strangers but Helen's friends were all very sweet. I met up with the lot of them on Saturday in Newry (land of shopping and a canal and not too much else) and wandered around the shops with them and then back to Helen's house for a take-out chinese and some cocktails (whiskey for me). It's funny being around a group of people who have been friends for years and years. It gave me the first inkling of what it must be a like to be a newbie around my group of frenz... the Belfast ladies all know eachother so well and have so much history that they can just dive into stories with no context or recall funny/awkward/fabulous/horrible moments in the past together. Telling stories that everyone already knows but want to hear anyway seems to be a universal trait...those stories that start with remember when....? At the same time, Helen and co. are also very different from me and come from a really different world which was interesting for me to witness. Catholicism and it's resulting social guidelines play a much bigger part in their lives than anything I've ever experienced. Things seem to be done more, "by the book," here. A much more conservative and structured ethos exists around dating...sleeping in the same bed with yer mate unless you're married is a fairly big no-no particularly under your parents roof (It is done regularly of course, but is on the DL). Virginity still matters even if only in theory. The wedding rituals abound...bended knee, engagement parties, hen parties, big weddings etc... Made it a bit awkward to explain my wedding situation. The, "let's see the rock conversation," or "how did he ask you," conversations just don't apply. Gender roles also seem to apply a bit more than I'm used to as well. Cuz Damn, these ladies look good. Helen is an absolute fashion wonderwoman and her friends were equally well put together...perfect make-up for breakfast, diesel jeans, pointed toe boots, higlighted hair, celebrity gab-mags, Mariah Carey. Girls are just well, more girls around here. I'm not sure where I fit in that equasion being one who likes make-up and clothes and certainly harbors a generous amount of feminine vanity but who generally just can't be arsed to make that much of an effort. It's easy to forget how much people's lifestyles really do vary when I'm home in the people's republic of Cambridge with my friends and our joined histories and memories. Like being a social anthropologist in a way...haha.

We went out to the "Disco," in Carlingford which Helen warned us beforehand was way more kitsch than cool. It was in the small hotel in Carlingford and kind of reminded me of a wedding reception venue in 1985...absolutely hilarious...farmer boys and dinky disco lights and old skool poppy-dance music..."another night, another dream but always you..." Was good fun really. Helen's friend Rita straightened my hair with these super expensive (and effective) hair straighteners (if you don't mind the smell of your own hair burning...haha) Was actually quite fun to have bone straight hair to toss around for the evening...even if I didn't have the pointy toes to match.

The next day was spent just chilling out, talking and eating potato bread and eggs and tidying the house. Had a nice chat with Helen about growing up in Belfast and friends and how all of these people I've been meeting fit together and the like. Was nice. Overall it was good to get out of the house and to be around other people...specially after my two weeks of enforced solitude.

Am off to drink tea and lie on the couch and otherwise nurse my sore throat and runny nose...mmmmm...

Better late than Never

The Real Pub Grub
Originally uploaded by di_juice.

More Pics from Sligo and Donegal for your viewing pleasure...

Friends of the Friendless

Hola mi Amigos,

Well, Tommy boy is off in Barcelona, the lucky bastard, so I am once again, left to my own devices. Most of the people I would normally hang out with here are also away from Dublin this weekend so it looks like I'm going to have a very clean house and a well used DVD player. In some ways, I'm looking forward to the down time but I'm sure by Saturday afternoon, I'll be asking the mail man to go for a pint... :) Maybe I can go into the local Spar and see what time the cashiers get off...haha. Coincidentally, I'm alone in the office this week as well as Alan is on his holidays. I may actually forget how to interact with other humans by the time I meet any again... I'll have to start grunting and pantomiming to commmunicate...

On other fronts, I started my Italian class this week and I think it's going to be really good. There are three students including myself, an Englishwoman, a woman from Cork and me. Our teacher is a young Italian woman from Naples who seems really nice and lives in my neighborhood (which means I have someone to commute home with post-class.) Yoga is also going well. I'm enjoying getting the stretching in. Really helps after a week of sitting in front of the computer. My neighbor is good company and it's been nice to get to know her (although the other people in the class don't really talk to us.) Dubs are notoriously cliquey though, so whaddya expect. My yoga teacher is way weeds and seeds. She's a homeopath and accupunctarist and is always giving us health and lifestyle advice and telling anecdotes about this, that and the other thing. Good stuff and a good thing I have these classes to go to or I might actually become a hermit. Hello, anyone out there?????

Weather has been beautiful the last couple days. I'm hoping it will hold so I can take myself down to the farmers market on Saturday and get some treats... maybe some Oysters and Guinness if I can work up the courage to sit at one of the tables by myself. I really am shockingly shy when on my own. Have visions of just heading out to my local for a pint and see if maybe the bartender will talk to me...haha...but am probably too introverted for such things. we'll see.

Hope you're all well.

Dido
official member, friends of friendless local chapter

So Much for National Health Care

After nearly eight months of living here, I have finally had to delve into the mysterious world of Irish healthcare. After 2 weeks of that yeasty feeling, 3 seemingly ineffective OTC treatments and a whole ocean of plain yoghurt, I gave up and made an appointment at the local clinic. After sitting in a typical office waiting room full of people with the most wet, phlegm ridden coughs I've ever heard, I went in to see the Doc. He was a youngish and nice guy but strangely, he didn't examine me, just took my word for it that I've got a yeasty... huh...wonder what he would do if I requested a months worth of oxycontin... He was very nice and did take his time talking to me and doing a few doctorly things like taking my blood pressure and doing that fun p.h. test on a little jar of pee...mmmm. Twenty minutes later though, the fun was over and I was off to the counter to pay for my visit (which is when the true heart attack set in.) €45 yoyos for my little jaunt to the clinic and another €30 for the prescription... Jaysus, Mary and Joseph that's a fat chunk of change for a trip to the MD. It's enough to make me want to drink Echinacea by the gallon and bathe in anti-bacterial soap. Rip-off Dublin rears its ugly head once again...

There Really are rainbows.

The end of the Road
Originally uploaded by di_juice. Just had to stop and get a picture of this... 'bout two seconds after I took the pic, the rainbow disappeared.

Fresh Meat?

Fresh Meat?
Originally uploaded by di_juice. One of many photos taken during our trip to Donegal...this one was a bright morning in scenic Killybegs... ;) Fresh Meat anyone?

Chicken wit' me head cut off

Hi All,

As you can probably tell by my lack of postings, it's been a busy two weeks. Had some more lovely American visitors (Miss Ilana and Sir Rich.) We did a ridiculous amount of everything during the week that they were here. Went to see a play in a tiny theatre down an alley in Dublin (as part of Dublin Fringe.) It was kind of a Rocky Horror Picture Show meets Jacques meets Broadway type venture with the three characters being: Kitty, Miss Pussy and Queenie (and yes, he was a queen.) Good stuff. The next night, our very cultured selves went to an Art opening in Temple bar showcasing a Korean Master Woodblock printer (with lots of free wine...yahooo) and Tom purchased his first piece of art (don't ask how much it cost, best not to think about it.) An Indian feast and several glasses of wine later (at the Odeon) and my hangover was guaranteed.

The next day we headed up to Co. Sligo and Donegal which were stunningly beautiful...rocky coastlines, steep cliffs, sky-blue water and miles and miles of orange-tinged coutryside. Will post pics soon. We spent the weekend eating seafood, drinking, hiking, shopping for crafty-type things, exploring castles and driving around the scariest, narrowest, windiest roads ever in our Volkswagon Polo. Ate the most tremendous oysters at a whole in the wall in a tiny town. I am becoming an oyster addict... I have yet to have a bad oyster in this country... one of the benefits of living on an island, I suppose. Love those slimy little feckers... it's a pure salt high. yum. The weather was pure Irish with intermittent rain (meaning it comes on like a train wreck, pours for five minutes and then moves on and becomes sunny (ish) again. Great weather for rainbows of which we saw many and waterfalls (of which we saw one.) Everytime I think I've seen the most beautiful parts of the country, I find some new loveliness to explore. If only it was a bit warmer in these parts, it would be brilliant... a nation of beaches and mountains.

This week has been absolutely mad. The yeast-beast is back to haunting me which puts me in bad form and work has been very busy. Not to mention, the cold I've been avoiding and a debacle regarding an Italian class that I'm taking (not worth going into details.) Despite all this, I went to a comedy club event last night. (Should have stayed in and gone to sleep early but we got the tickets weeks ago.) It was actually really good craic (as they say). Six Irish comedians and one extremely funny MC and it was all televised for RTE. Almost ended up being part of the show when the MC asked if there were any Americans in the audience and all the people we were with started pointing in my direction as I was apparently the only American in the place. Luckily he moved on quickly when I hid under the table...haha (just kidding.) I was able to cop on to most of the Irish humor but there were definitely a few times when I had to turn to Tom for an explanation of exactly why a joke was supposed to be funny. Huh?

Looking forward to a weekend of rest. Strangely, I'm going to watch the Red sox game on Friday night (as Brice and Michelle have sky sports and get all the baseball and every other sport imaginable.) Will have to bust out my Red sox cap and represent.

The Devil came to Belfast

IMG_6585
Originally uploaded by di_juice.

The Life of a Party

Late nights this weekend (as is the way when crossing the border.) Welcome to Northern Ireland where I get no sleep :) Went to Armagh city on Friday night for a surprise 50th birthday party... There was a huge crowd including Gaelic footballers (mmmmmm), aged politicians, hot grannys, college students -everyone whose ever partaken of the hospitality of our (very generous and very drunk) host. I also saw the largest beerbellys of my life at said shindig. Bellys that you could carry on a tray. Long term effects of drinking the black stuff?! Attempted to set dance (well was coaxed onto the dance floor kicking and screaming ;) ) which was good fun but anyone watching would have thought that I actually have two left feet... I am quite the image of grace and coordination at these things... Think I was meant to dance only in large crowds where no choreography need apply...haha.

Saturday, we headed to Belfast and went to a wedding After-Do. Think this is a peculiarly Irish phenomenon. You have the typical reception, dinner, toasts, cake etc... and then you open the event up to (from what I can tell) everyone you've ever known ;) to keep the party going... Good stuff. Off go the children and the grannies (except for our friend's ninety-five year old granny who had more energy than me!) We were there to see Kerry and John - another half-Irish, half-American duo living in the states which was really great. Sometimes forget how much I miss the company of women.

After the after-do, we crossed town to a, "fancy dress," party. Now, when I hear fancy dress, I think, cocktail dress and tuxedo so was somewhat surprised when Gee (the host) answered the door wearing a full-on Elvis costume... Party was typical Belfast with the ever-present set o' decks. No northy party is complete without the scratch...wikky, wikky, wikky. Martina (who we recently visited in London) was playing hip-hop and soul records in a spandex red devil suit and there was food and beer in every corner. The theme was gods and goddesses and other costume highlights included: Gavin (a male) dressed as a domestic goddess, medusa herself, Ozzie Osborne (rock god?) Eve (naked suit with fig leaf - funnier after the woman wearing it took it off and a skinny guy put it on and started dancing) a spied (translation = white trash) with four arms (not sure why the four arms but they looked cool) and Monkey Magic (some sort of European cartoon character.) I took a ton of pics which will appear soon on the blog. I know you will all be waiting with baited breath...

Today, it's back to the grind although Ilana and Rich arrive tomorrow so it should be a good week. Take care.

Eat Your Heart Out...

Or rip it out of your chest and modern dance with it...which is just what I witnessed last night at a performance that was part of the Dublin Fringe Festival. After that introduction, you are probably thinking, good god, what a horrible thing to witness but it was actually pretty cool. The performance was called, "Knots," and consisted of 6 dancers - three brides and three grooms exploring marriage and ltr's and gender interactions and the like. The dancers were amazing, dialogue was good and it actually had a great, ironic sense of humor about it...It would have to to be able to pull off the histrionics of literally ripping your heart out. And I'm not usually a huge fan of modern dance. Good stuff. I'm going to try and see a few more bits of theatre or visual art before the fringe is over. If anyone's interested in seeing what's on, check out: http://www.fringefest.com Will keep ya posted.

Moooooooooo

Moo
Originally uploaded by di_juice.

Click on the pic to see Connemara where the cows run free and the sheep are fearless.

No Rest for the Guilty

Was out last night with Tommy, a couple of the Belfast Boyos, Leon and a couple of his Dub friends bouncing around from pub to club. It was our second night out in a row so I was on the water (one hangover a week is more than enough for me) but it still ended up being a pretty late night. Sometime round closing, Leon's Dub friend copped on to my American accent and decided to bring up American politics...and I thought to myself, Here we go again... An hour later, having been talked at about Americans and oil and Iraq and 9/11 and all the rest of it by an extremely drunk lad with a serious Dublin accent and a penchant for close talking, I have to say that I started to lose my patience. Yes, I do have multiple problems with American foreign policy, with American domestic policy, with the arrogant way in which we go about bullying the UN and indeed the rest of the world with our ass-backward neo-con ideology but ultimately when having these conversations (as I do frequently) I have to ask, "What the feck do you want me to do about it??" I didn't vote for that clown George W. I don't drive an SUV. I write to my senators regularly. I take public transport. I'm not a born-again and I certainly don't think I have all the answers or should tell other people how to run their countries fer fuks sake. I am as outraged as the next person over the dangerous incompetence of the Bush administration and No, I don't drink oil for breakfast and wash it down with a few Iraqi children for lunch... So the next European who goes on a diatribe about evil America is not getting an apology from me (especially when they happen to be a Drunk Dub trying to tell me what Americans are all about when they've been to New York city once for 5 days.) I don't think so, mate.

Glendalough

Glendalough - Upper Lake
Originally uploaded by di_juice.

Where the Faeries live...

Glendalough - Waterfall!
Originally uploaded by di_juice.

Took a drive in our new motor down south into Co. Wicklow which is probably one of the most beautiful counties in Ireland - a mixture of sandy beaches and lush mountainscapes. It is also home to Glendalough (where most of these photos were taken) which is a National Park and Historical site. We walked through a sixth century Monastic city full of mossy stone walls and headstones in the shape of celtic crosses (and quite a Phallic looking tower whose purpose I'm not sure of.) Very cool. There are also a bunch of different trails to hike through the mountains (which is where this waterfall shot was taken.) The best part is this giant misty gorge with lone "Six Feet Under" type trees silhouetted at the top. The water is super shiny and clean like mountain water can be (before it becomes polluted...) The whole place has a very Pacific Northwest vibe. I find that when I leave the city, the landscapes are often reminding me of Northern New England and Oregon all rolled into one. I absolutely love it.

After a somewhat crap week, I was so, so, psyched to be treking around the woods and rolling up my jeans to wade around in the mountain water. For a city girl, I really do feel most relaxed and happy when I'm surrounded by trees and/or water (lakes, ponds, ocean...I'm not picky.)

The last few weeks have actually been really beautiful weather wise but strangely the days are the spitting image of late September, early October days in Boston: The sky is vivdly blue and there's a bit of a chill in the air but it's still fairly warm. There's a particular smell in the air, slightly damp but crisp and the sun is starting to lower so that the light and shadow on everything is magnified giving color a brilliance that it doesn't normally have. I saw an enormous rainbow over the ocean last week during one of these Fall type days (as it always rains a little bit here even if the rain is falling through seemingly sunny skies.) It was really something. Put me in a good mood just to see it. Fall in New England is actually my favorite time of the year and days like this make me so nostalgic for apple picking and pumpkin carving and walks through the woods kicking leaves around while wearing the sweaters that have been in the closet all summer.

I have to say that it is really strange to have had weather like this in August, as in New England it is essentially the last hurrah of a dying season - the beauty of trees and plants and sun that are about to hibernate or die as the winter arrives. I have to wonder if that means that winter is going to be a very dark time here as the sun must be very, very, low in the sky come December... Well, time will tell...

On other notes, have started working from home one day a week which is fabulous. Cutting the three hours of commuting time from my day is really something and while I've only done it once, I felt like it was actually easier to stay focused and be productive at home than at work as I'm in my own comfortable and quiet little environment and can take little breaks to water my plants or make toast or pop in a CD or what have you. Very nice. After working from home last Tuesday, I actually had the energy to go up to the Clontarf Promenade and go (drum roll please...) jogging. Usually, I can only muster the energy to lie in front of the TV (or read the New Yorker or some scary Bridal magazine) by the time I get home and make/clean dinner which is really kind of depressing even if the TV here is pretty good compared to home. Have never before found my self watching any amount of TV every day. Have really been trying to limit it - watching too much makes me feel like I am a spectator in my own life, watching other people instead of being out there having my own experiences. Creepy. And I want to throw things when I see the same annoying adverts over and over again.

Thank god for the weekends and my trips to various lovelinesses. Last night had a great dinner with Michelle and Bryce. Good pizza and wine and homemade brownies with icecream and good conversation and the like. Friday went out to the Pub with Dominick and Helen but both nights, we were home before midnight - think I must be getting old. Didn't we used to go out around midnight?! Well, I'm off to go put on my grandma pants...where did I leave my teeth?!

Love to you all.