Thank you all for the nice things you said in the comments about T's ikkle bit of input into the Opening Ceremony of the Beijing Olympics. He's chuffed to bits to have been part of it and says "Ta" to you all. Sorry that I didn't get round to replying to the comments but I've barely been online in weeks.
That's really weird! I logged into blogger and it was all different. Has it been so long? Well my Bloglines feeds tell me there are 248 unread blogs. That's not entirely true -I have read a few of those - but there are many many more I have not. The children continue to monopolise the Big Computer. Every time I sit down I get "Are you going to be long?" or "Aw Jeez Mum - I was on Skype" or "It's MY turn!"
I'll tell you what - during school holidays - it's never bloody my turn.
So I have occupied my time watching the Olympics. I particularly love the first week - rowing, kayaking, swimming, cycling, sailing - pretty much anything to do with the water actually. And the gymnastics. Oooh and archery! I've discovered I really love the whole Robin Hood thing. Not such a big fan of the second week though. I'm easily bored with the running around in circles and throwing things. I woke up at 4am one day last week (possibly Friday) and I thought Well I may as well get up and see what's going on in China. They were re-showing the Women's Marathon. I thought I might as well watch it. I wanted to see if Paula Radcliffe had finished. What I got instead was two hours of watching skeletons running in agony. It was so awful I kept changing over to an infomercial channel to watch someone called Leeza and someone, I'm pretty sure was Laura Ingalls, tell me how brilliant this mineral based make-up was and how my life would be ten times better if I just bought some. It was a huge relief from the torture of watching grown (spindly, spindly) women inflict huge amounts of damage on their joints and their bodies generally. I'm not a fan of pain. I don't like feeling it and I don't enjoy witnessing it in others. I was hugely relieved when it was over. So much so that I fell asleep on the couch and MISSED the rowing.
I saw the highlights but it wasn't the same.
The whole Michael Phelps thing was very exciting. I rooted for him all the way. I didn't see a single one of his races live, of course, because they were all on at 3am. Thank you NBC and your big bucks for that. The BBC was very good about its coverage though. They had a "Phelpsometer" section in their evening round-up which had a large cardboard cut-out of the man himself which they daily updated as the medals were won. For a laugh they sent their swimming correspondent (and Athens Bronze medallist) Steve Parry off to Tiananmen Square with said cut-out to do a reportage. What he didn't expect was to be mistaken for the man himself.
I love stuff like that!
Team GB have done amazingly well and I congratulate them for a sterling performance. Good Job GB! It all bodes well for 2012. I might even get to go to that!
But mostly I want to say well done to Ireland's boxers Paddy Barnes and Darren John Sutherland for their bronze medals. I hope that there are more with the Athletics although I haven't been following it so closely. So many nearlys (Oh I sobbed when Eoin Rheinisch was robbed in the K2 and screamed for the rowers!) but all in all I was disappointed by the lack of coverage by the Beeb of the Irish athletes. Well I suppose I can't blame them really - I mean why should they? But I found myself searching for the Irish flag everywhere and hoping to see lots of green but I didn't. Ah well. Maybe next time eh?
Any highlights for you guys?
Friday, 22 August 2008
Saturday, 9 August 2008
Beijing 2008 Opening Ceremony
(Photo credit: Clive Rose/Getty Images)So it's finally officially opened and at last I can talk about it! Weren't the fireworks brilliant? Hubby had nothing to do with them but I just thought I'd mention them first because they were so good.
(Photo credits: Hubby, T)This is what the Hubby has been doing in Beijing. He and his co-worker were responsible for displaying the images on the scroll during the Opening Ceremony. The above three photos were sent by Hubby all the way from China. I had a hard time finding any that didn't have a thousand dancers on it! But it went without a hitch. And I think the entire thing was breathtaking.
As much as I miss you Honey, I am so proud of what you guys have been part of. It was a truly amazing spectacle.
Tuesday, 5 August 2008
CarPet Capers!
When we moved into our house 6 months ago I was able to ignore the fact that it was covered in horrible carpets because I was so darn grateful to be out of that rented house. (The short story is that when we moved last October we had to rent a house until our house purchase went through. While we were there the dog kept getting sick, Big son and Daughter were both sick at night and I had horrendous headaches. I hated the place. When we left we found out that there was a gas leak in the road outside the house and that the gas was escaping up through our drains and into our bathrooms. We were all slowly being gassed to death.)
So obviously given that we'd moved into this lovely place with all this room and NO GAS, I was ecstatic. The old mud-coloured carpet in the hall, stairs and landing wasn't even visible to me. The fact that each bedroom had its own unique coloured flooring that didn't necessarily compliment the wall colour or the curtains didn't even register. But weirdly after 6 months it's all I can see.
The dog is shedding again. This is an irritating thing anyway, as she has black hair, and it's hard to ignore. It falls out in massive clumps too. In our old house, the entire ground floor had either tile or laminate flooring. I'm very practical you see. With three children and a dog you don't want carpets on your entry level. Floors should be wipe clean and easy to brush. The dog still moulted. The hair still got everywhere but it was really easy to clear up. Upstairs we had a neutral-coloured woollen carpet that ran up the stairs to the landing and into all three bedrooms. The bathroom was tiled, or at least it was something that looked like tile. Putting a carpet in a room where people with penises have to take aim in order to pee, is about the stupidest idea anyone ever had. In this part of the world the carpeted bathroom is all too common. But not in my house. I am a practical woman, who lives with three
Mostly the dog wasn't allowed upstairs. Of course she still snuck up and of course her course black hair gave her away every time. Let's face it vacuuming pet hair is no picnic. That's why they sell those special brush attachments that beat the hell out of your carpet. I haven't got one of those. I just keep having to pull the hair off the vacuum brush and shove it up the hose. It's time-consuming but works well. When you have a good carpet that is.
When your carpets are twenty-years-old and well trodden, they get ornery. They grab hold of that dog hair and they don't let go of it no matter how good the suction on your Hoover is. You lunge that vacuum backwards and forwards, you change the attachments, you burrow and batter it with the crevice tool and the darn thing just balls up the hair and holds on to it for dear life. It's like battling with a Velcro covered octopus.
We have found a solution. If you run your shoe over the offending carpet the hair goes into balls but comes loose. Then you come along with Mr Hoover and suck those hair-bunnies up. It's quite labour intensive though. The thing is that I only ever do one or two rooms at a time. I alternate. It makes life easier.
Today I had a visit from a dear friend and her daughter from my old home town. It was their first visit to my new house and I wanted it to look nice. I was like a woman possessed with the housework. Quite unrecognisable really. I left the vacuuming till last. With my hand, I went over every square inch of carpet in two reception rooms, the hall, the stairs, the landing and the bedrooms…with a trainer (that's a sneaker to you American folks)…followed by the Hoover. It took over three hours and I felt like I'd run a marathon by the end of it. It was the best workout I'd had in years.
Then some time around mid-afternoon it started. It was just a dull ache at first but then it soon developed into actual pain - in my lower and upper arms and my shoulders. My body's behaving like I've been benching 100. From vacuuming!!!!
Ow!
I have always said that housework was dangerous. Now I have the proof.
Ow!
Oooh! I just remembered - my Breaking Dawn turns up tomorrow. I think the Pooch and I will have to retire to my bed and do some reading. She has her own special throw to lie on which keeps her hair off my duvet. And if she's on that she's not shedding on the horrid carpets. Which is good coz I'm not vacuuming again till I get another visitor. Or possibly when T gets back from Beijing.
Or maybe I'll just roll them up and chuck them out.
Friday, 1 August 2008
Geography vs. Creativity
I'm going to speak specifically to writers for a sec because I've found that I'm having a bit of trouble getting on with The Project. And it's not because I'm stuck on a plot point or because I've run out of ideas. I think the problem's geography. Specifically the way I think depending on where I am.
The Big Computer is located in the Family Room. This is not ideal at this time of the year, when the kids are off school, because the X-Box, all the toys and - oh yeah - the computer are all in the same place, hence noise levels can be quite high and it is not conducive to work. But to tell the absolute truth if I wanted to sit down and write in there I could just kick the kids out and tell them to occupy themselves elsewhere. Or at least work out a time-share option. No, the problem is the computers location, i.e. on a desk, facing a blank wall, with a hard wooden chair in front of it. This doesn't seem to bother me at all when blogging, writing emails, checking on Facebook, doing research and getting assignments done. It works well, in fact. I feel like I'm doing a task - working to a goal - I'm all business. The lack of natural light (it's in the darkest corner of the room) or comfort actually assists in the focus. No doubt, for getting work done, The Big Computer is definitely in the right place.
However, right now with The Project I'm in a very creative place. I'm doing a lot of day dreaming and picture drawing in my head and that dark corner, blank wall and wooden chair are doing my mojo no favours at all. There's no far off place to look to when I'm chasing down an image or feeling around for just the right word to describe something. And did I mention how uncomfortable that bloody chair is? On top of that every time I stop tapping for a few seconds one of my offspring hovers at my shoulders asking me if I'm finished yet. Aaarrrrgh! And don't even get me started on how distracting having the internet right there, when you're struggling, is!!!
However when I'm sitting on my bed, pillows piled high behind me, the window wide open allowing the breeze to circulate all around I'm in the zone. Here, my imaginary conversations come alive. Maybe it's the light, maybe it's the birdsong or maybe it's the fact that there's nothing that the kids want in my room but it's where I do my best imagining. In the last week I've been scribbling notes and little scenes in a notebook but despite the fact that I'm pleased with what I've got, I'm frustrated with the fact that I'm not making the same progress that I would if I had a computer. On top of that my handwriting dissolves into appalling scribble after a while and despite myself I end up writing in scrawly short-hand. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm actually losing the art of handwriting. Tomorrow I'm going to write in a much bigger notebook. A4. Instead of just a scene, I'm going to attack my next chapter. I'm determined to have the first draft finished in 12 weeks. I have three kids and I'm starting a new job soon so I'll only have an hour or two a day when I can give writing full focus. Because of that I have to make the very most of the next five weeks of summer holidays.
I know what the answer is. I need a laptop. No internet connection. Just Word and a printer connection. I could sit on my comfy bed and tapity-tap-tap, or look out the window thinking or draw diagrams and storyboards in my notebook, drink endless cups of tea and not be bothered by anyone. Because who else would want to go on a computer that's not connected to the internet?
And then when all the thinking and dreaming stuff is finished and I have to drag the darn thing into shape and polish it up I could go back downstairs to the hard wooden chair and the blank wall and get my focus on.
Seems like an extraordinary extravagance though doesn't it? My own laptop with only one application on it, just for me alone? And it still wouldn't stop that other thing from happening that's interfering with my progress… I keep nodding off after lunch.
The Big Computer is located in the Family Room. This is not ideal at this time of the year, when the kids are off school, because the X-Box, all the toys and - oh yeah - the computer are all in the same place, hence noise levels can be quite high and it is not conducive to work. But to tell the absolute truth if I wanted to sit down and write in there I could just kick the kids out and tell them to occupy themselves elsewhere. Or at least work out a time-share option. No, the problem is the computers location, i.e. on a desk, facing a blank wall, with a hard wooden chair in front of it. This doesn't seem to bother me at all when blogging, writing emails, checking on Facebook, doing research and getting assignments done. It works well, in fact. I feel like I'm doing a task - working to a goal - I'm all business. The lack of natural light (it's in the darkest corner of the room) or comfort actually assists in the focus. No doubt, for getting work done, The Big Computer is definitely in the right place.
However, right now with The Project I'm in a very creative place. I'm doing a lot of day dreaming and picture drawing in my head and that dark corner, blank wall and wooden chair are doing my mojo no favours at all. There's no far off place to look to when I'm chasing down an image or feeling around for just the right word to describe something. And did I mention how uncomfortable that bloody chair is? On top of that every time I stop tapping for a few seconds one of my offspring hovers at my shoulders asking me if I'm finished yet. Aaarrrrgh! And don't even get me started on how distracting having the internet right there, when you're struggling, is!!!
However when I'm sitting on my bed, pillows piled high behind me, the window wide open allowing the breeze to circulate all around I'm in the zone. Here, my imaginary conversations come alive. Maybe it's the light, maybe it's the birdsong or maybe it's the fact that there's nothing that the kids want in my room but it's where I do my best imagining. In the last week I've been scribbling notes and little scenes in a notebook but despite the fact that I'm pleased with what I've got, I'm frustrated with the fact that I'm not making the same progress that I would if I had a computer. On top of that my handwriting dissolves into appalling scribble after a while and despite myself I end up writing in scrawly short-hand. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm actually losing the art of handwriting. Tomorrow I'm going to write in a much bigger notebook. A4. Instead of just a scene, I'm going to attack my next chapter. I'm determined to have the first draft finished in 12 weeks. I have three kids and I'm starting a new job soon so I'll only have an hour or two a day when I can give writing full focus. Because of that I have to make the very most of the next five weeks of summer holidays.
I know what the answer is. I need a laptop. No internet connection. Just Word and a printer connection. I could sit on my comfy bed and tapity-tap-tap, or look out the window thinking or draw diagrams and storyboards in my notebook, drink endless cups of tea and not be bothered by anyone. Because who else would want to go on a computer that's not connected to the internet?
And then when all the thinking and dreaming stuff is finished and I have to drag the darn thing into shape and polish it up I could go back downstairs to the hard wooden chair and the blank wall and get my focus on.
Seems like an extraordinary extravagance though doesn't it? My own laptop with only one application on it, just for me alone? And it still wouldn't stop that other thing from happening that's interfering with my progress… I keep nodding off after lunch.
Wednesday, 30 July 2008
Where'd July Go?
Vanilla just pointed out that it's practically two weeks since my last post. How did that happen? Alright July's been a manic round of end-of-year ceremonies, productions, sponsored walks, Masses, leaver's celebrations and discos but is it really over already? By the time my final assignment was due I was so far behind because of aforementioned schedule and the whole getting-a-job-thing that I had to batten down the hatches and turn off my blogging head to catch up and write my final piece. Aside from scrabulous (Thanks to Vanilla, Aerin, Ello and Precie for always having a game on the go with me), I've tried to keep my internetting to a minimum. It's been hard. But I submitted on time! All done!
And - deflate! I wasn't in the mood for anything for 5 days. I have been zoned out, lying around, daydreaming and generally calming down. A couple of days ago I started to write some notes (by hand) on The Project and slowly I've been getting my brain back into a more manageable gear. (I can't do full tilt without blowing a gasket - I'm more of a tortoise than a hare!). So I'm back on track and I'll be checking around the net to see how you folks have been doing in the last couple of weeks. I look forward to catching up.
And - deflate! I wasn't in the mood for anything for 5 days. I have been zoned out, lying around, daydreaming and generally calming down. A couple of days ago I started to write some notes (by hand) on The Project and slowly I've been getting my brain back into a more manageable gear. (I can't do full tilt without blowing a gasket - I'm more of a tortoise than a hare!). So I'm back on track and I'll be checking around the net to see how you folks have been doing in the last couple of weeks. I look forward to catching up.
Thursday, 17 July 2008
Me!
So this is me - complete with new haircut and hair that looks like it grew right of head just like that!
If I'm looking a bit smug it's because I just got news that I've landed a dream job in a Primary school. I will be, from September, a Individual Needs Assistant in the most gorgeous little village school ever, working with a little boy who has some communications difficulties. I'm absolutely delighted.
I'd be doing a Happy Dance if it wasn't for the fact that I fell down a hole a half hour ago and sprained my ankle. It's dangerous work - walking a doggie!
If I'm looking a bit smug it's because I just got news that I've landed a dream job in a Primary school. I will be, from September, a Individual Needs Assistant in the most gorgeous little village school ever, working with a little boy who has some communications difficulties. I'm absolutely delighted.
I'd be doing a Happy Dance if it wasn't for the fact that I fell down a hole a half hour ago and sprained my ankle. It's dangerous work - walking a doggie!
Wednesday, 16 July 2008
Hair Today…
You know I'm not easily offended. Mostly I think people who say mean things made a mistake, used a wrong word or aren't especially good at expressing themselves. Sometimes someone being insensitive is more about you being over-sensitive. I'm a benefit-of-the-doubt kinda person. I try to hear what people mean rather than what they say.
But, then occasionally you hear something that you know you should ignore but it just rubs that raw insecure little bit in your psyche and BAM! you're obsessing before you know it.
An elderly woman (84) I was talking to on Sunday asked me if Small Son was my grandchild.
Oh. My. Good. Golly. Gosh!
I'm 41! And although technically, when I had him at age 36, I suppose I was old enough to be a Granny, I'm still young enough to bear children. If I wanted to. Which I don't. But if I did, I could. Now I realise that there are a lot of real Grandmothers out there who will be miffed at my outrage but I can't help it. If someone thinks you're a Granny - what they're really saying is that you look old enough to be one.
It's my hair see. I'm blighted by my Celtic genes. We don't seem to able to hang on to our pigmentation. Hence we freckle instead of tan and we go grey very young in life. (Not all Celts do this - but a higher proportion than other ethnic groups). I found my first grey hair when I was 14 around the same time as I hit puberty. Ah the irony of that really socks it to me!
By the time I was 23 I'd started to colour my hair. I only had a minor sprinkling at that time - but enough for people to notice and make comments. The I had Big Son aged 28 and suddenly I had a streak. Aged 30 I had Daughter and the whiteness spread even further. I tried going blonde for a while but I just didn't recognise the pasty-faced individual with the yellow hair looking back at me from the mirror. After a year or two I went back to my more natural looking reddy-brown. When, at age 36, Small Son came along, it was as though the last of the melanin reserves were wiped out and I resigned myself to colouring my hair every three weeks until my chronological age caught up with my hair age and I'm finally able to ditch it. Yes every three weeks. Because even though I have no colour in my hair - it is very thick and tremendously fast-growing.
At the weekend it was looking particularly bad. Since moving here I haven't had a haircut. It takes me ages to find a hairdresser that'll be able to handle my bonce. It's not an easy head to tame. So I put it off - and off - and off, until I looked like I was wearing a haystack wig instead of having hair. With white roots.
It really was an awful mess. But to think someone thought I was a Granny. Geez Louise - something had to be done.
So I found a hairdresser, took the plunge and had it all chopped off. Tonight I fill in the blanks and return it to a natural-looking auburn. My next door neighbour saw it first and she kindly told me that it looked great - apparently it took years off me! (The pit of my tummy ached at the thought that years needed to be taken off me). But I cheered up. I went to get Small Son from Pre-school.
"Hey Honey did you have a good morning?"
"Yes! Yes! Mama you did cutted all you hair."
"I did. Do you like it?"
"Yes! Yes! Now you are a man!"
Good Grief! From granny to a bloke! And it didn't stop there. Daughter said I looked like Anne Robinson. (She of The Weakest Link). Can a girl catch a break?
Then Hubby came home and smiled at me and told me I looked great and it really suited me. I knew there was a reason I love him so much. He's just lovely.
I just saw the beginning of the last post where I claimed "I'm all about the natural - me." Well obviously - I'm more about looking natural and using any ol' fake means to achieve it! I'll put a photo up soon.
But, then occasionally you hear something that you know you should ignore but it just rubs that raw insecure little bit in your psyche and BAM! you're obsessing before you know it.
An elderly woman (84) I was talking to on Sunday asked me if Small Son was my grandchild.
Oh. My. Good. Golly. Gosh!
I'm 41! And although technically, when I had him at age 36, I suppose I was old enough to be a Granny, I'm still young enough to bear children. If I wanted to. Which I don't. But if I did, I could. Now I realise that there are a lot of real Grandmothers out there who will be miffed at my outrage but I can't help it. If someone thinks you're a Granny - what they're really saying is that you look old enough to be one.
It's my hair see. I'm blighted by my Celtic genes. We don't seem to able to hang on to our pigmentation. Hence we freckle instead of tan and we go grey very young in life. (Not all Celts do this - but a higher proportion than other ethnic groups). I found my first grey hair when I was 14 around the same time as I hit puberty. Ah the irony of that really socks it to me!
By the time I was 23 I'd started to colour my hair. I only had a minor sprinkling at that time - but enough for people to notice and make comments. The I had Big Son aged 28 and suddenly I had a streak. Aged 30 I had Daughter and the whiteness spread even further. I tried going blonde for a while but I just didn't recognise the pasty-faced individual with the yellow hair looking back at me from the mirror. After a year or two I went back to my more natural looking reddy-brown. When, at age 36, Small Son came along, it was as though the last of the melanin reserves were wiped out and I resigned myself to colouring my hair every three weeks until my chronological age caught up with my hair age and I'm finally able to ditch it. Yes every three weeks. Because even though I have no colour in my hair - it is very thick and tremendously fast-growing.
At the weekend it was looking particularly bad. Since moving here I haven't had a haircut. It takes me ages to find a hairdresser that'll be able to handle my bonce. It's not an easy head to tame. So I put it off - and off - and off, until I looked like I was wearing a haystack wig instead of having hair. With white roots.
It really was an awful mess. But to think someone thought I was a Granny. Geez Louise - something had to be done.
So I found a hairdresser, took the plunge and had it all chopped off. Tonight I fill in the blanks and return it to a natural-looking auburn. My next door neighbour saw it first and she kindly told me that it looked great - apparently it took years off me! (The pit of my tummy ached at the thought that years needed to be taken off me). But I cheered up. I went to get Small Son from Pre-school.
"Hey Honey did you have a good morning?"
"Yes! Yes! Mama you did cutted all you hair."
"I did. Do you like it?"
"Yes! Yes! Now you are a man!"
Good Grief! From granny to a bloke! And it didn't stop there. Daughter said I looked like Anne Robinson. (She of The Weakest Link). Can a girl catch a break?
Then Hubby came home and smiled at me and told me I looked great and it really suited me. I knew there was a reason I love him so much. He's just lovely.
I just saw the beginning of the last post where I claimed "I'm all about the natural - me." Well obviously - I'm more about looking natural and using any ol' fake means to achieve it! I'll put a photo up soon.
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