My Year of Meaningful (2011)

Monday is the May bank holiday so that's a day off. A glorious 3 day weekend in perfect summer temperatures under clear Irish skies.

Except for me.

Given the crap I have to do for work and the deadlines I have to do them by, I will spend this weekend working. ARSE! Not to mention the fact that the 2 site visits I have to do are up the BACK OF FECKING BEYOND...

Plus, Hannes has a meeting on Tuesday in Sligo....

So what we, Team W. have voted to do (and of course by "we" I mean "I") is drag the mancakes and the puppies along on jill's labour-related outing.

I even made a map.






Given that Cork is AS FAR AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE from these 4 pumping stations I have to go look at in friggin THE TOP OF BLOODY County DONEGAL (see "Monday"), and the quarry I have to look at is supposedly in the middle of skank-ass NOWHERE Co. Sligo, (Sligo/Leitrim/Roscommon border) and I will probably DIE trying to find it, I thought this weekend warranted staying in some nice places roughly within the same time zone as each place.

After waking up early on a Saturday which is just stupid, driving up to BFE and Quarryland, hopefully there will be enough time to enjoy a bit of the Leitrim countryside which I've never seen before. Cottage 1.

Then we can kick around on Sunday and drive up to Stupid Donegal, as far as humanly possible as one can get from Cork (unfortunately I was already here before, and it is beautiful, but Hannes will think it's stunning. Plus the beach is nice) and explore a bit, before I have to work my ass off on the public holiday whilst watching everyone else romp on the beach. Staying SUnday and Monday nights at Place 2.

Again, it's unfortunate that H. has those meetings in Sligo on Tuesday, because Sligo town sucks and I'll have to hang out with the puppies for several hours with nothing to do while we wait for him, but then again, he purposely scheduled them so that we could take the weekend together so WTF, he's the man. Actually that's not that bad. But we have to haul ass to get back to Cork tuesday night by 8:00 pm so I can go to yoga, so we'll see how that works.

Proof that I survived:
My parents' set of photographs from their trip.

jwjw.shutterfly.com/action/?a=8Cct3Dho1bMeO

This series of photos is not for the faint-hearted. It involves over 150 images of the following:

1. Castles. Many castles. (They don't get out in Ireland much so, whatever)
2. Birds. Too many birds. (Dad is a hobbiest ornothologist. Nerd)
3. Flowers. Gardens + flowers. (They're all in their 50's what can I say)
4. Cheesey poses. (Again, whatever.)
5. Random photos of bedrooms. (They all get off on B&Bs, WTF!?)

I don't suggest that anyone views them. But I wanted to enter it for blogging posterity. We won't live here much longer.

Interesting fact: H & I came back from the little 3-day excursion with THREE photos on our camera. Aside from the inital ones of my house (beginning of slide show) and Cork skyline, etc., (end of slideshow), Dad had about 200!!!

Here's what I want to know:
Why the bloody hell does Neil Young's "Harvest" haunt me so???

I have recently added this everyone's-favourite-album to GOD's playlist. It is a classic. Right, we all know that. But it does something to me... mainly it haunts me and I can't figure it out. I get wicked crazy goosebumps when the first notes of "Out on the Weekend" go bump bump, and no matter how low I have the volume or what I'm multi-tasking at, it just kills me inside. Weird.

(Just in case your suspicions are working overtime, Challenger K), it's NOT GUILT. I think it's one of those soundtracks to a mis-placed memory of a dark time, or maybe it was a sad time, or a weird mixed-up-teenager time, when I was listening to it constantly.... The spooky thing is that I have managed to overwrite it, or discard it from my memory. I can't find that memory! If anyone knows what it is that torments me when I hear this album (ok, I'll admit I always hit FF when "There's A World" comes on, and not because I'm tormented... but because it SUCKS)... if I'm listening to this album while I fall asleep, I can't fall asleep. I just lay there with a hole in the bottom of my stomach, reaching for those memories that are gone.

Some nagging voice in the back of my mind is saying "Derek" to me, for some reason... something is saying 1993/1994... that would make sense, as I think that would've been around the time I first got my first CD player, which means it would've been shortly thereafter, that I acquired the CD from that chancer CD club I was in where you pay $ 0.99 and get 10 free CDs if you buy one every month. "Harvest" was always on that CD club list.

I went on some serious emotional rollercosters that revolved around '93 - '97, and I definitely know "Harvest" was always in my collection at that time... but I don't think I was listening to it much past '94 - '95. During '93-'94 I was working for a radio station that had "Heart of Gold" on it's regular rotation. Hmmm. Those would have been Derek years, in some way or another. Well at least we were always close during that time.

These are the days when I want to kick myself in the face for throwing away all my old diaries. These are the sort of things I would've written about... "blah blah blah so-and-so is making me feel such-and-such I'M LISTENING TO NEIL YOUNG RIGHT NOW" and so on.

It's settling in now: Empty House Syndrome.
That's what H. and I call that dead feeling in your stomach that one gets when one has just said a big goodbye and turns back into their quiet, lonely house as everyone drives away. It doesn't matter if it was a really sad goodbye, or an emotional goodbye, or a happy goodbye, or a "boy I'll be glad to get rid of you" goodbye... you still get EHS and it's quite a drag.

H. just led the caravan back toward the airport, since his office is on the way. And it's just me and the pups. Kinda sad. It always makes me sad when I see people who are really sad to leave. I was proud of my mother for not crying though, I never know what to do about that. I think having A.P and U.M along for the trip really put the good behaviour influence on her for the week.

Anyway now I'm just going to watch the morning news, have a sneaky cup of coffee, and try to see the bright side rather than the EHS side of having my house back.

Although I would just LOVE to listen to "Don't Know What to do With Myself" (The White Stripes version, please). Except my dearly beloved has the cd in his car and I'm left with nuttin. Note to get that onto GOD asap. One of the best wallowing songs ever created.

I have one moment of peace on my hands, 30 emails to answer, and I just can't be bothered. It's because I'm exhausted. So for some reason I feel like letting loose and just pouring thoughts and words out rather than doing anything constructive while I have these minutes to myself.

We got back last night (Tues) from Wexford. The mini-tour was pretty good, with it's expected annoyances. They saw their castles and cathedrals and 5th century cemetaries, etc. Good days of sunshine, comfy B&Bs and a few nice pints. 6 adults in a vehicle travelling around the Sunny Southeast of Ireland for 4 days. Everyone has their things that make me want to punch them, naturally. It's amazing how the older adults get the more they stay the same. It really annoys me. I would like to think that I will not be like that and that I'll be able to be flexible when I'm in my 50's. Whatever.

My mom still pouts like a child when she doesn't get her way.
My dad still panders to my mom and her grossly outrageous high-maintenance nature.
Uncle M. is a tightass, and still thinks everyone is inferior to him & his wunderkind offspring.
Aunt P. still has to overanalyse everything out loud & micro-dissect every sentence you say.

And of course me & mine have our own little tidbits of being fallible. Hannes (the world's most patient boy) gets wound a little tight when it comes to my family. I see the smoke coming out of his ears at times when if it was anyone else, he'd take it with a grain of salt. But these people have the words "in-law" attached to their names, and that ups the ante a little bit. And myself? Well I'm just an insensitive rude cow where these folks are concerned. I'll jump on my mom's back whenever I dern well please, I purposely bring up politics just to see my dad go purple in the face and start to spontaneously combust with anger, and I keep telling the Aunt/Uncle to keep their voices down because they're embarassing the bejeezus out of me. (And in all fairness to them, it is only their first trip overseas ever).

But again, no huge fights. Mom pouted to the point of getting a kick in the face in Kilkenny one night when we all wanted to play Cranium at the B&B, and U.M. complained about having to spend money to the point of nearly getting a kick in the balls, in Wexford (doesn't one loud-mouthed tight ass in the bunch just spoil it for the rest of us?) but otherwise it was ok.

Now my baby has just left me to go to work, which means I'm on my own as tour guide today here in Cork. AND it's raining. Drag. At least I can flee to the office tomorrow.

Now for the most exciting bit. An email from our trusty employee Theo today, from the office down under:

Jill,

Find attached scan of your work temp work permit for Botswana.
STEP 1 complete. Congrats then on that!

Ok, so we knew that was coming anyway but the scan with my photo and the official stamp of the Commissioner of Labour.... just made it seem so real and tangible, it's a feeling I can't put into words. Kind of like when now every time we drive more than 3 hours away for some reason (like this weekend), the thought is always in our heads: "this could be the last time in Wexford.... maybe this is our last time in Kilkenny... maybe the last time I drive on the R634, etc. etc..."

I was on Amazon today and found this link.
Under "How-to lists" .
Probably the most fabulous "How-to" I ever saw.
I just... love this feckin guy to bits.

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/guides/guide-display/-/3HBWYCP0V59ZP/ref=2/102-9322363-3193767

Let's just get it out there: I love classic rock. I just love ROCK. I THRIVE on rock. I NEED rock. I have always loved classic rock and I . . . UGH! I just . . . Can't. . . . EXPRESS how much I laughed/loved this link!!!!
It's just......
......so TRUE! Who knew you could make a "how to" of classic rock!??!?!

I have all these albums. And this guy is right. He's just RIGHT.

Now it would be funny to find out he's like, a jewish high schooler from the upper east side or something.

Whoever he is I just wanna kiss his forehead.

Rock, man.

The bomb drops Friday. Tomorrow.
My baby & I will wake up A HELLUVA LOT EARLIER THAN WE SHOULD ON A DAY OFF, to hurry up and put clean sheets on the bed... my new fabulous bed.... that my PARENTS will soon be sleeping in, and drive an hour and a half to Shannon to pick the 4 of them up. ETA 10am. Look, see, they're already inconveniencing me... kicking me out of my own bed, making me wake up early on a day off, and they couldn't even have the decency to fly into CORK, but oh no, rather SHANNON. . .

ok. that's me being totally unreasonable for this thursday. I had to get it out of my system. That's just how my brain works when it comes to the 'rents.

the fact is, yes they could've flown into Cork rather than Shannon-- for an extra 400 bucks, and an extra added stopover. That's AFTER driving from JC to KC then flying to Chicago then flying to Dublin and then on to Shannon. And I OFFERED the bed. They OFFERED to stay in the computer room on the futon. I INSISTED. And I'm sure everything will be fine, what with the Aunt and Uncle coming along to mitigate any adverse situation which may arise between mother & daughter.

I'm not an asshole, I just have a cynnical attitude about my parents because we don't get along. It's really just very simple. I seem, however, to get into conversations about it ALL THE FRIGGIN TIME here, because Irish family units are so FRIGGIN TIGHT it's like . . . unbelievable. 25% More 20-30 year olds live at home with mammy than any other country in the world.

Ok I just made that statistic up, but I'm be certain it's true. All my guy friends here live or lived with their mammy til like, they either got engaged or well, no pretty much just engagement. There is no sense of need for independence in this culture. Dont know if it's the catholic thing or just that I lived in 3 other "weird" countries where people actually DESIRE to strike out on their own. I just dont get it.
(I found myself in this conversation at least 4 or 5 different times this week... mostly because my friends just can't understand why I wouldn't be OVER THE MOON that my parents are coming for only the 2nd time in my over 3 and a half years here) How many times did I hear the sentence "Ohhh well ye must jest be deee-liiiighted are ye???"
I'm like:
"um, no? I don't want my only easter holdiay of the year hijacked by people I dont even get along with? I'd rather go back to Greece for a week?"
COME ON!

Whatever, I've planned a pretty hard-core week for everyone.
Friday: Arrival. In fact, they're probably in the air right now. 10:00 E.T.A.
Drive back to Cork.
Have some toasted ciabattas with olives, feta, sundried tomatoes, and avocado. Or ham n' cheese if they're not down with jill's medeterranean taste sensation idea.
Do stuff, maybe walk 'em around the hood, whatever.
Lasagne for dinner
End the night playing CRANIUM and drinking wine & beer, getting loud and obnoxiously over-competitive as all board games should be.

Saturday. Drive east into Co. Waterford. Drop puppies off at kennel in Tallow.
Rock up at Maarten's stepdad& mom's B&B in Lismore. Fetch Maarten, and everyone go on a massive hike up the Vee (in the Comeragh's). End the day with a traditional music session in the corner pub, or if Peter (Maarten's stepdad) is feeling up to it after his massive operation or whatever it was, he'll probably hijack the night and fiddle himself to death trying to impress my likewise musically inclined relations. I kindof want to groan, here, at the thought of all the hoe-downing. But then again, they can't go all country bumpkin on us, considering the Irish only do the Irish traditional thing. Dad and Aunt P. will have to adapt.
Maarten and Mancakes and I will just drink a tankfull.

Sunday, wake up, drive an hour north/east to Kilkenny. Stay at Beech Lodge B&B. Hang out in Kilkenny. This part, we're doing for me and the boy... one of the few places left in Ireland we HAVEN'T managed to see yet. And it's a cool ol' town, I know. So that's good. The street with the most pubs in the whole country. woo hoo. Rents and Uncle/Aunt will be impressed with the massive castle in the middle of town, and all the traditional music sessions going on in every hole-in-the-wall in town. This is what Kilkenny is known for.

Monday, wake up, drive an hour south/east to Wexford. "The Sunny Southeast". County of 100's of miles of beaches, and sun, viking history, and medieval everything. I think they'll enjoy the B&B I booked. This place is actually a castle. We'll probably bring Cranium or Catch Phrase along so that when we get sick of my dad's incessent birdwatching on the coast, we can retire to the drawing room (GEEK!) and have more unnecessary yelling and competitive bitchery.

Then tuesday it's back to Cork, by way of Waterford. Hopefully I'll be able to convince my mother that the crystal factory doesn't really exist. Either that, or if she DOES figure it out, I'll take the guys off on a little side-trip down to Tramore or out to the pub or what have you. Pick up the puppies in Tallow on the way home, and arrive at the house in the evening.

Right. then there's tues, weds, and thurs night at our house, where we will likely play more games and drink mroe booze and I took off tues/weds. so there.
Walking around town, maybe off to Blarney, hit up the English Market, shop a little, relax, try to avoid fights.
They leave friday.
Thats the itenerary.

...That Didn't Involve Geographic Information Systems, Landscape Design, or Environmental Impact Assessment:

1. Sackies: Last tuesday night during the end of yoga I had a second where I nearly came to tears because it was the first time the thought actually crossed my mind that in a few months I'll be telling my BELOVED yoga instructor that it'll be the last whopper of a check I'll be writing him... This guy is such a star in my life, and I'll never find such a great teacher again, I know it. I'm going to miss him more than anybody else here, I reckon. And it hurt when I thought about it for the first time. Nearly hurt just as much today even though I wasn't lying in savasana.
2. Bob Dylan: Music of, and fact that we still haven't bought tickets to his June Cork gig!!! WTF!!!???
3. Impending Arrival of Parents + Aunt/Uncle: and of course the associated topics a la WILL I make a 3-course fondue meal one night for them? WILL the weather cooperate for picnicking on the cliffs? WILL my mother insist on a tour of the Waterford Crystal factory? WHEN the bloody hell will I have time to pre-make a lasagne this week before they get here????
4. Where is my American Beauty CD?
5. Yesterday's BONE CRUNCHING DEFEAT of the Rocka Fallers: That would be an astounding 33-1 victory for the Scrumbags, as I predicted, and yet I had so much SHITE to do back at the ranch, I couldn't even stay around for a victory pint, which I was still sore about.
6. What ever happened to Brandon?

But mostly it was a case of: Jesus Christus, is it 5:30 yet????? I don't remember spring ever hitting me like this before, but for some reason this change of season is really fecking up my work ethic.

When we went out to the pub with Scott and Linda on Friday night, L said something about making dinner for us AND my parents AND my aunt and uncle next thursday, so she can meet them all. All I know is that we weren't THAT wasted, so I assume she wasn't shitting me, but man that gal has got some gumption. Mental note to self to confirm that she wasnt smoking crack. hmmmmmm.....

Here we are - The Mighty Mighty Scrumbags of '06.
I suppose you could also call us O'Donovan's Hookers but John probably wouldn't appreciate that too much.

So far we're 2nd in our league. Soon to be 1st, I reckon.

Tomorrow we play the Rocka Fallers, and that'll be a piece of cake for sure.

I got home early today because I had to go to Tramore (Co. Waterford) for work, to survey the magnificent landfill there. ~yawn~

The up-side being that it was an absolutely gorgeous day, sunny skies, and warm-ish. And the landfill is literally a stone's throw from the beach. (photo)

It was one of those easy site visits that I didn't mind at all: Tom, the site supervisor was a gem. And I just so happened to pick a half-decent place to eat in Tramore, even though I hadn't a clue, since I'd never been there before. And to boot, I drove the (long way) coastal road out there, and the scenery was stunning... had never gone that way before, so it was a new find, for me.

The past weekend was pretty cool.

We didn't do much on Friday night, but Saturday I claimed one of my birthday presents (finally!) which was the tickets to the Heineken Rugby Cup semi-final between Munster and Perpignan, in Dublin. The game was sold out within 10 minutes of tickets going on sale, and my gorgeous hubster happened to get 2, for my birthday. Of course I decided by the grace of my heart, to take him as my guest. We headed up to Dubs saturday morning, and arrived in our B&B just in time to get the DART to the field as the gates were JUST opening. So we had our pick of the standing-room-only seats that our tickets were for. The weather was pure shite, it was all rain-sun-rain-sun-monsoon-sun-rain-sun throughout the whole game, but we had our wet weather gear and we were packed in like sardines to the point that the extra bodies around were well and truly blocking most of the gales and waves of rain. The atmosphere was magic, but the game was pretty average. Still, Munster won which was class, and so the crowd was psyched. Found a nice Indian Restaurant and took it easy with the INSANE Dublin post-match nightlife, since I had to play 2 games the following day.

Sunday drove back to Cork early enough to get home and change for my games, Hannes came to support, and brought Reilly along too. We won the first game by a landslide, and yours truly scored twice (woo hoo). 2nd game I scored once and the game ended in a tie, but that was pretty acceptable because the other team was way above our heads. What sucked is that in the last SECOND of the game, Alan threw a pass to me but it was JUST out of my reach... I barely managed to control the ball and was literally 2 steps from the line when the whistle blew. If that had've been complete, we would have won in dramatic style and we then would've been in 1st place on top of our league. But oh well, tough ka-ka for us.

We are the happiest humans in the world right now: not only is our dog back, but our new mattress was delivered and it is THE BEST MATTRESS IN THE WORLD.

I am not just shitting myself because this is my own blog. This mattress is SO FRIGGIN AMAZING that I can't even get out of bed in the morning. It's the memory foam, I'm sure. It just cuddles up to you and yet feels firm. It is amazing. Pure miracle sleep. Even H loves it, and if there's one thing we can't agree on, is the debate between soft vs. hard mattresses. Now if we can only get this bedframe delivered... I'll be EXTATIC. At the moment, the new amazing mattress lives on top of the old futon frame. Dodgey.

Here's how Reilly managed to escape:

For the record, the wall she's standing on, is approximately 5 metres in height. That is higher than a 2nd-floor level. The window on the flats that can be seen in the background would be a 2nd storey window. Heck, this photo was taken from OUR second storey window. She is indeed an acrobatic puppy. She likes to sit up there and monitor the neighbourhood. Nuts!

This came in from Ellen. I laughed. Will always pulls off a good impersonation...