Proud Mama

Report cards are in; it's official. Not only are our children geniuses, they are kind, considerate, influential young people. Not anything we didn't already know, but still enough to make a chest swell if you know what I mean.

This is where we went to celebrate. Those people have their own kinda genius going on.

Longest Day of the Year...

but not of my life!

Happy Solstice.

I hope you had an amazing day.

I worked and then met my family to celebrate great report cards and belated fathers' day. I didn't talk about the solstice a lot but it was in my heart all day.

I heard through my new coworker that her dear friend was "doing" the solstice and was much inspired to hear about LMWs(like-minded women). I've never met this woman, but was happy to make her acquaintance; if you know what I mean.

Overall, I'm happy with the way the day was spent (by me, anyway). Hope you are too.

All good things,

*love* me. (interpret that as you will)

Fuck a Big Bunch of Alarm Clocks

Y'know what? I've had enough of this shit. Why, oh why, do we participate in these hurtful constructs such as "time"? I cannot for the life of me understand why work can't start exactly when WHEN I GET THERE and finish WHEN I'M GODDAMNED GOOD AND READY!

What, is the problem with that exactly? It worked for the caveman, didn't it? They slept and ate when their bodies told em too. Got pregnant then too. Nobody judged because nobody cared. People just got on with getting on with it. If they survived, so be it; if not that was fair enough too. If someone became a burden, they either wandered off to meet their maker/consumer and thus completed the circle of life, or, if they had no sense of honour or dignity, they were ostracized by the group. Banned, even.

When I am Minister for Families and Children things are gonna change around here, I tells ya!

A Smell to Remember

I was lucky this morning and had coffee delivered to my bedside. There is something about the smells and sensations of fresh air and coffee in the morning that trigger my camping gene. I've been a camper my whole life. I love life outdoors.

Of course, I love it on my terms. I've totally outgrown the desire to test my survival skills in any way. I'm happy enough to set up tents and put campstoves together; to chop wood and light fires but I want to be clean and comfortable and have everything I need within reach.

For me, camping is more than just one way to spend a vacation. It's about letting go of the clock and living on our own terms. Eating when we're hungry, sleeping when we're tired, swimming, reading and playing when the mood strikes us. Wearing as few or as many clothes as feels comfortable and not worrying about whether they match. Watching the sunrise and the sunset and counting the stars in the night sky. Toasting marshmallows in the campfire. Ensuring the kids are asleep and sneaking off to make love in the night air...

I think it's about time to book a camping trip. Amazing what a cup of coffee can do, isn't it?

A Week if You Treat it, Seven Days if You Don't my ASS!

Six weeks into the new job and I'm off sick. It's a frustrating situation because I really like my new job and would rather be at the office doing it. Having said that, I think it's only fair to my colleagues that I stay away until I get this elephant removed from my chest. Every time it sits down, I hoark a lung across the room. Not pretty ever, but particularly ugly in an open plan office setting!

I spent the first ten days trying to manage on my own, but clearly, that's not working for me. Being the kind of girl who isn't too proud to ask for help, I made an appointment with my doctor for this evening. Hopefully she'll have something that'll keep my lungs on the inside of my body; at least while I'm at work.

For those of you keeping score at home, I've lost 19lbs in three weeks. This inspires me to keep it going. Although I have a long way to go to reach my goal weight, I'm starting to feel like myself again. That's good news for everyone, particularly hubby!

Which leads me to ask the question, is sex for connecting or escaping? Both? None of the above? I'm interested in what people have to say about this... my own theory sits firmly on the fence. Speaking of which, I noticed recently that I have a seriously regular reader that never comments. Obviously, I'm not a comment whore, or I'd have stopped blogging a long time ago. Whoever you are, thanks for reading; I take comfort in the fact that you keep coming back.

Ireland is Bi-Polar

It has been sunny here for some six days in a row. The difference in the Irish colletive conscience when the weather is cooperating is just incredible. Everyone is happier, everyone is nicer and everyone is eating ice cream (except me, of course).

I was actually starting to feel a little uncomfortable with all the manic joy surrounding me until I was on the train home from work this evening and the woman beside me complained loudly for the entire journey that she was too hot. As strange as it may sound, I was actually comforted by the hearing a complaint. Having said that, if it rains tomorrow, I am gonna hunt her down!

It's amazing how much information you can glean about someone when you sit on a train beside them for a few minutes. Crossword and suduko done, I ran out of ways to amuse myself and couldn't help but overhear. I learned her name, the town she lives in and that she's planning an intimate wedding that most of her family is not invited to; which, by the way, they don't know yet. I was also able to trace her accent to within a 3 mile radius.

I managed to get off the train before I learned anything more. As I walked by the pub, I nearly stepped in what used to be the contents of someone's stomach. Ah, yes, the sweet smells of a sunny Friday in the Beer Garden. An Irish summer indeed...

Blogger, why do you do these things to me?

So, last night for the first time in forever, I had a few minutes to myself and an idea for a post.

Blogger, however, had other ideas. Now, I've read about the frustrations of other bloggers, but until yesterday I really didn't get it. I so get it. From now on, I am going to be the most empathetic commenter on blogs written about Blogger frustration EVER!

I also learned that there is some part of my psyche that doesn't do compromise in certain areas. I know this because, although I've been married some 13 years (which is really just an incredibly long series of compromises) I had a near physical reaction to the suggestion that I write my entry on wordpad and post it another time. Saddest part? The suggestion was internal.

In other news, I've lost 14lbs so far and am inspired to keep going; it appears as though the babysitter took my favourite silver bracelet when she disappeared and I have not one but two giant cold sores - very Angelina.

Other than this incredible hangover, all is well.

I did not for a single moment believe that hubby impregnated the babysitter. I do believe that message could have ruined the lives of many couples, though.

I also think it's entirely possible that there is some truth to the story.
Edit: I think she may have had an affair with someone else's husband.

And now I must retire to the couch and nurse my sore head.