Saturday, June 9, 2007

Birdy's Wordys

When Birdy tagged me for the one word response exercise in self-limitation ... I thought "Cinch ...Easy peasy, have it done in no time".

Not so.

As ye may have gathered, if I get an opportunity to use 10 words, I'm not about to cramp my style, limit my verbosity, pull the reins on my rantings, and only employ 2. Where would be the fun in that?

But this WAS fun to do .... and insightful as well. The insight being that I really do use too many words when fewer would suffice and even from the way I am rambling on in this preamble just goes to show that given my head I could go on and on and on.


Ad nauseum.


One-Word Responses

1. Where is your cell phone? Dunno
2. Relationship? Enigmatic
3. Your hair? Enhanced
4. Work? Necessary
5. Your sister? Beloved

6. Your favourite thing? Eyes
7. Your dream last night? Gone
8. Your favourite drink? Tea
9. Your dream car? Bicycle
10. The room you're in? Study

11. Your shoes? Sandals
12. Your fears? Lurking
13. What do you want to be in 10 years? Alive
14. Who did you hang out with at w/e Family
15. What are you not good at? Nothing

16. Muffin? Banana/walnut
17. Wish list item? Wings
18. Where you grew up? Ireland
19. The last thing you did? Sleep
20. What are you wearing? Smile

21. What are you not wearing? Restraints
22. Your pet? Mansbestfriend
23. Your computer? Challenging
24. Your life? Open
25. Your mood? Optimistic

26. Missing? Nothing
27. What are you thinking about? Breakfast
28. Your car? Cast-off
29. Your kitchen? Untidy
30. Your summer? Started

31. Your favourite colour? Yellowpurplegreen
32. Last time you laughed? Yesterday
33. Last time you cried? Forget
34. School? Restrictive
35. Love? Essential

It is with great pleasure that I now tag Miss Molly, Pauline, Tanya.

The fruits of your mission, should you schoose to accept it, will be awaited, impatiently.

Miss Molly fans should not hold their breath as she is up to her oxters plotting and scheming the next escapade for her unsuspecting, innocent til proven guilty, sister.

Friday, June 8, 2007

The chains that bind......

For years I have loved the feeling of being needed. The feeling of exhilaration and terror on holding the newborns for the first time and knowing that not only was I the food ticket for the foreseeable future, I was also the centre of their universe. I relished the feeling of providing a safe and warm nest for my children. I loved the sensation of fixing their little worlds when the gods were being unkind......I thrived on the wonder-filled expressions when I managed to rejig something unfixable.

I loved the magic of kissing things better.

I told myself that I was doing the best I could to make my partner, my kids, my friends, my relations - all happy to know me. I nearly killed myself with the word "should". But the neediness in them filled some of the empty spaces in me.

It is with slight regrets that I have let my children grow up at all.

"Please, don't drop me ALL the way to the school gate" she said with a slight note of panic or

"Don't even THINK about giving me a kiss here" he growled in his half-broken 14 year old falsetto.

I smiled, ruefully, at the time.

I'm still smiling and the rue is nearly all gone.

And now, I'm half a world away from everyone near and dear to me and everything that constitutes my life up to this point could be a figment of my imagination.

There is such freedom in realising that you are dispensable.

Thursday, June 7, 2007

A Right Pair of Wans 2

A word of advice to would-be travellers to sunny climes .....BRING A SWIMSUIT.

I am now, officially, on my holidays in Florida, U.S.A. The big blister is kindly providing bed, breakfast and an evening meal (if I can manage to behave myself) and "entertainment " for the duration of my stay, which is 4 weeks (again, dependent on my behaviour). Four weeks might seem excessive to some of you but we are SO worth it.

As you can imagine, a lot of planning had to go into an escapade such as this, which necessitated abandoning kith and kin ( of the everyday variety), travelling half way across the world and the preparation of the unsuspecting hosts for the impending alien invasion.

The Molly, having had ample time to plot and scheme, announces on Tuesday, we're off on a little gadabout to Miami on Friday to meet up with Liz and have fun times on the beach, sipping whatever it is you sip in Miami ... soaking up the sun, dipping the bodies in the bathlike waters, trawling the sandy beaches for the ocean's cast off baubles, fighting off the legions of admirers with our disdainful looks ..... Bliss!!!!


"Think I'll have to pay a little visit to the shops, Molly, I forgot to pack a swimsuit ..... Sorry .... caan't imagine how I managed to do something as stupid as that??????"

In deference to the delicate nature of the female of the species "bloggerus fantasticus", I will not repeat what she said. Suffice to say, the Molly Bawn, unimpressed with my forward thinking, was kind enough not to lambast me with her potentially corrosive tongue. She resigned herself, with a definite air of martyrdom, to a trudge to the mall. I dutifully hung my head.

She, like me, wouldn't be a huge fan of the shopping disease.

So, armed and dangerous, off we went. On a mission. "Easy, peasy" we agreed. "We'll be back before we even know we've been gone"....

We cut quite a dash, such was our efficiency and single-mindedness. Not for us the magpiesque gee-gawing. We were immune to all the glitter and shimmy of the Sale signs, the 2 for 1 temptations, the gyrations of the brightly coloured concoction that one MUST have.

Straight to the swimwear sections.

In and out of changing rooms. In and out of various creations. Pink ones, green ones. Blue ones and multi-coloured ones. One-pieces, two-pieces, hardly-there-at-all pieces. In and out of hysterical snortings and guffaws at my appearance in the seasons hottest offering. Molly, at one stage, when we were nearing the limit of our endurance, arrived in with one joyously orange coloured costume for my consideration. She sat down, wearily, while I, once more, struggled with the, now, unco-operative bones. While I am, vainly, trying to arrange the mammaries into the space provided and feeling very inadequate that they are not making the slightest impression ... I glance at the blister and she is doubled over, shoulders shaking, strangulated sounds emerging and then, I catch sight of myself in the mirror .... and we are both doubled over, laughing hysterically, in grave danger of having a serious, senior moment necessitating a change of underwear. The afore-mentioned orange ensemble was designed to accommodate a lady of more ample proportions - 38D to be precise - and the antics of trying to fill the necessary spaces, provided us with, not only a good belly-laugh but also, the final straw.

We gave up. We conceded defeat. We retreated to the car to lick our wounds and, for my part, salvage what remnants of pride remained. We muttered, incoherently, about tea, tomorrow being another day, could always go au naturel, who'd notice?

We headed home.

Only to be distracted by ONE LAST STORE.

At the OTHER side of the four-lane highway. The more mature of these 2 sisters did an inspired, rapidly spontaneous, off the cuff, unpremeditated, TOTALLY ILLEGAL U turn.

Surprise, surprise, lights are flashing.

It's not me they want to pull over, is it?.... I didn't do anything wrong, did I? .... they've been building and changed the layout of the exits and entrances and ............ how else am I to get over there ......... there wasn't any sign saying you couldn't, was there?..........

A rather unlikeable, portly, sweating, barely out of nappies representative of the law proceeded to misuse his power.

And, feebly attempted to break our spirit.

He was, momentarily, successful. Ticketed and somewhat chastened we continued, meekly, to the cause of the misdemeanour.

And were rewarded for our efforts by the discovery and purchase of a very well-behaved, take you anywhere, unexciting, little black number.

And then, to Miami, to kick up our heels and flaunt our unlawful, unchastened, unflagging spirits to the unsuspecting public.

A right pair of wans, to be sure.