Bring it on, New Year! I'm (almost) ready...

So far I've managed to wash my hair. It's a good start, I suppose...
I also noticed, that my boots are too small. The other pair I could have worn is still hiding in the closet, because I forgot to get the zip fixed. (Or was too skint at the time and then just too lazy)
I'm not 100% sure if my dress fits me anymore, either.
Instead of stressing about these minor details, I decided to come and see what my favourite bloggers have been up to. And I'm so much more calm now! (It might also have something to do with the sneaky ciggie -break)

I just want to tell you, how much I appreciate the fact I found you this year. It has been lovely to find some blogger friends, your stories have entertained me, touched me and amazed me countless times!

And to my friend who reads this secretly (You know who you are!); It's so nice to be able to share my little stories with you this way as well!

I hope you have a great night and a brilliant New Year!

A surprisingly smooth day

Yesterday was one of those days, when everything goes right.
We started our day by turning off the alarm and sleeping in. It is something I do very rarely, because I keep thinking there are so many things that absolutely have to be done. And my poor better half won't get any extra sleep either. So that was kind of like my little after-Christmas present for us all (Himself, me and my poor tired legs).

I finally got up to make tea, and just as I put the kettle on, the buzzer went. I opened the door and let Junior in, got Himself out of bed and made the tea. And then Junior told us some great news.

After he left, we got another visitor; The Big Man walked in and sat down to wait for his coffee.Then he asked, if we knew anyone who does cleaning. Obviously I jumped up and asked when I could start. So now I have at least a few hours per week, and I know I'll be able to pay the rent. Excellent.

Then I talked to my Mother for over an hour, and I wasn't upset afterwards, which is always a nice surprise.

And then Ciaran (He's the one who moved to France) arrived, we all had dinner and went for a pint. Lovely.

To balance things, today is already showing signs of being one of those days, when things just won't go the way you'd like them to. And no amount of asking nicely or even begging is going to help. So I'll just wrap yesterday's happy memories around me and see this gray day through.
And who knows, maybe tomorrow will be another good day again!

It's nice to be nice... But do I have to?

Last night, as soon as we got home, Himself had to go to work again. I got to stay at home for a few extra hours before following him to the one and only music venue in our town.

Seems that we have nearly started a little family business; "Hire a guitar tech, get a merchandise person/doorman/extra pair of hands for free" (Hmmm.. Now there might just be something there...)

So I took the money and stamped more hands than I thought I'd ever see. I don't know how I didn't have any dreams about hands last night; There definitely was enough material for a whole movie! Pale, nearly blue hands; hands with dozens of bracelets (which cover stamps nicely and make the checking part of work ten times harder), nervous-looking hands... And a pair of older hands, with lacy arm warmers. Who says punk is dead?

This kept me entertained for a good part of the night. And suddenly things started to happen. Some people couldn't understand the concept of paying to see a gig, and tried to push their way in past me. See, when you reach a dizzying height of 5' 3", and try to do work normally associated with big guys with walkie-talkies, you get these people who think you won't try to stop them. Somehow I think they weren't expecting me. Oh, how I hate breaking people's dreams. (insert evil laugh here) Using my best voice (what I lack in height, I have in volume!) I gently pushed a group of ten people back a few steps. After that I didn't have any trouble with payments and got to enjoy the rest of the gig.

At the end I started to take down the shirts we had on display. Managed to get the last one into my hands just before I fell. And landed on one foot. And, of course, hurt my ankle. The funny thing about this was, I'd been drinking juice the whole night watching people around me get drunk. And yet, none of them got as much as a scratch. This nearly makes me believe in one of Himself's favourite sayings; "Trying to be good really doesn't pay off".

So here I am, nursing my poor ankle in the safety of my workplace. (At least I have a counter between myself and the customers...)
And I'm pretty certain, that the next time you see me doing the door or climbing after merchandise, I will have a nice pint of Guinness in front of me!

Working for the (big) man

It's over, and I can't say I'm sad.
Thankfully I had time for at least one of my traditions, gingerbread figures. There's some piggies, hearts and trees, just waiting to be eaten. The dogs in Himself's homeplace were over-excited when they smelled the baking cookies; they seemd to remember them from last year. So I had two little helpers running around the kitchen.

Last night we went for a few drinks in our friends' house. Champagne, crackers and cheese, they really were spoiling us!
Got to bed at around four, and had to wake up early today to go to a little town for a gig. (Won't even try to spell the name, Irish place names can be a bit confusing at times)

You'll never guess, where I'm writing this at the moment! In an old church, which has been converted into an arts centre. It still has the lovely, old windows and wooden floors, and of course the high ceiling. What could be a nicer place to write in?
Himself will be teching for a band called Superstate and I'll be taking money at the door and selling CDs. It's so nice to be doing this kind of work again, it's been a while since the last time. I have my little station all set up next to the door. CDs, mailing lists and pens all in order.

The boys are soundchecking, I'm drinking lukewarm tea and waiting.
And hoping I'll have lots of work to do tonight!

Waiting for Santa

We are staying in Himself's old home tonight, and my internet connection is a little bit confused about the change. So I'm a bit worried about trying to post this, but I'll try anyway!
I was told on Tuesday, that I'd be working today. Thankfully I was in for only four hours, so I had time to finish off my shopping and wrapping before work. I ran around the town like a headless chicken, but managed to get everything done.



Himself is the head wrapper in our family.
Another masterpiece of present-wrapping is on the way!

All done! Winnie The Pooh -paper was obviously picked by me.

The Jaffa Cakes are for my adopted son, who loves everything sweet with chocolate. (There's a little label on the packet and everything... ) We got him some proper presents as well, don't worry!

The Christmas tree in all it's glory in Himself's homeplace.
Someone must have been good this year!
I can't wait to see what Santa brought me. Naughty or nice, that is the question... :)

Hope you all have a great Christmas!

It's not easy to be Santa's little helper...

I stayed up too late again last night.

Somehow I hadn't really realised what date it was, until yesterday. I looked at a poster of an upcoming gig on the wall of our local chipper and started frantically counting with my fingers. (This was about five minutes after I woke up and before my first cup of tea, so my brain wasn't working at all) Himself then gently confirmed that it was indeed two days to Christmas Eve.

What is a girl to do? Instead of finishing up my shopping or wrapping the last presents, I went to the cinema with my friend, who I hadn't seen in a while. I wanted to do something with her before we'd all start spending some family time.
After that we had a bite to eat and obviously had to talk about the movie. (Verdict: Not impressed.)

And suddenly it was 12.30. She went home, I turned on my computer. Then I noticed I want to wash my hair. Then I got an idea and started to do some Secret Santa Business. (Can't go into detail, in case Himself reads this before he gets his presents...) Then it was 2.30. And I went to bed.

And woke up at around 8 to find the other side of the bed empty. Himself had been gigging again on the previous night, and I was expecting him home around 3. So you can imagine my panic! (Irish people can't deal with frost on the roads while driving, the roads are just horrible, etc.) I checked my phone, ran into the sitting room... And found Himself sleeping on the sofa.
Moved him to the bedroom, and as per usual, he fell asleep straight away. I stayed awake.

When I finally drifted into sleep, the pub next door started rolling beer kegs in. So loudly, that the door, windows and the mirror next to our bed were rattling. And then my Father called. He still hasn't grasped the meaning of time difference and keeps calling on random times, almost always before I'm even close to waking up.

So maybe I've learned something from this and will do my preparations earlier next year. Or maybe I'll just start turning off my phone before I go to bed!

Christmas party

The party is over and it went well. At the end we got 11 guests, which in our case means a full house. We had people sitting on a beanbag, fold-up chairs and empty crates. And the sofa and armchairs were quite full indeed. Himself went overboard with the fire, so we had to open the windows and even the door.

I woke up nice and early in the morning, to give myself time to prepare everything. But I ended up enjoying my cup of tea and Himself wanted to watch "just a few more minutes" of Runaway jury. Then he got a call from his former teacher, who wanted to show a painting he had just finished after years of work.

At the end we got everything done. I have to admit that I cheated a bit with the party foods... I made some pastries with rice mix, tuna and soft cheese with garlic and herbs. I don't have any pictures of them, because they weren't that pretty looking. They tasted lovely though! :) The rest of the food was unfortunately shop-bought, but went down well anyway.

My lovely Polish friend came in before the crowds arrived, and I made us some mulled wine. We had a lovely and relaxing time, good chat and a bit of music in the background.





Brian came in with a big bag of Christmas crackers. I was so excited, since it was the first time I ever got to pull one! I got a tiny motorbike from mine. And of course the bad jokes found from the crackers had to be read aloud!






More Christmas cracker surprises. Cara making a jigsaw, her glass of wine forgotten.




After the puzzle was done, Cara started looking for new challenges. She found a pen, and set up a improvised "tattoo-station". She does all sorts of designs for living, so we had a professional using our skins as her canvas.






And this is the result, signed by the artist. My arm is in full bloom. :)












The last guests left at five in the morning, so I'm a little bit tired today. But it was definitely worth it!

Nanny's

Himself was playing last night, so I decided to go with him.
The pub was small, nice and in the middle of nowhere.
I had to take some pictures!

The vinyls were a new addition,
I think the jugs and other decorations have been there for quite a while.

These guys were keeping me company. :)

Can't wait to see this place in the summer,
it's located right beside the canal,
and I'd say it'll be lovely if we get a bit of sunshine!

The place was full of little details, I think I have
to go again to see all of them! :)

My little bookshelf

When I came to Ireland, I had just one book with me.

As you can see, a lot has happened in a few years. :)
And, because we don't have much space in the apartment, we have to use imagination. So that windowsill became my bookshelf.

I found this lovely little bookshop, that specialised in school books. They also had a section of second-hand books, and I used to be a regular customer. Then, one day, I walked in and saw the owner putting books into boxes. She told me they were getting rid of all the second-hand books. They were just going to throw them away, which I couldn't have watched without crying. So I called Himself and asked him to help me on my rescue mission. He arrived to the place and found me surrounded by boxes of books. Without asking a question, he carried my treasures home.

I was delighted. I found Patricia Cornwell's books, some Dan Brown, The Snapper, some Marian Keyes. And, hiding shyly under bigger and flashier books, was a shabby copy of Roald Dahl's Matilda. Dahl's books have always held a special place in my heart, because The BFG was the first book I ever read in English. So you can probably imagine my joy!

Now these abandoned little pearls live happily together with my other books. Matilda's new neighbour is a book about the history of Islam, Girl with a pearl earring lives in peace with Stephenie Meyer and Himself's Beatles collection box is squashed between some not-so-shiny numbers. And added to the mess are my notebooks; the ones for poems that didn't get finished, my journals, my "guestbooks"....

And somehow I don't think my collection is finished yet...
Do you think our landlord would mind me making a few new windows? ;)

Visits

Our friend moved to France a while ago to live with his wife, who happens to be a lovely French woman. He comes home every now and again, so thankfully we still see him quite often. He came back today for Christmas, and, in the typical Irish way, the slagging started straight away.

They had to go to a gig, so he only stayed for about ten minutes. But even in that time the boys had me laughing so much that tears were rolling down my face. Funny guys. Made me remember why we miss him so much when he's gone. We made him a nice cup of strong tea, which seems to be the only thing he really misses. (Apart from the Irish sense of humour!)

He was wondering how the truck drivers can take the journey from France to Ireland without even breaking a sweat. He, on the other hand, said the seventeen hours in the ferry were torture and that even a bottle of wine hadn't help him to sleep. Thankfully he must have fallen asleep at some stage, judging by the fact that there was still those two bottles of red left for our Christmas present...

At under 3 euro per bottle, I predict a headache on monday!

Can't wait... :D

Laala feels like leaving

I've always loved railway stations, airports, anything that means I'll be going somewhere soon. I didn't even sleep in the car as a child, because I wanted to see everything. The first time I moved, I was two. Then 6. Then 14. Then 16, when I got my first flat. Again when I was 18. And then 19. And so it goes on. I never really felt like I belonged.

Then I moved here. I think this is the longest time I've lived in the same town and same house in one go after my childhood. And again the little voice in my head has started to tell me to leave and take the challenge of starting a life in a new place. It's gotten so bad I even get a buzz when I get into a car to go for a spin. I've started to look at websites I really shouldn't; hostels, flights, jobs abroad...
Anything to do with leaving makes me smile.

Himself is well used to my moods. He listens to me when I tell him about amazing hostels in Morocco or my sudden urge to go to Canada (Yes, my choises are VERY random!) and thinks about it for a while. Then he looks at me very seriously and says: "When do you want to go?" That is usually enough to remind me of the facts and to calm me down. But I can hear him getting tired of the continuous rain and lack of sunlight as well. So, you never know... :)

My new family

A while ago I got in touch with some of my old friends again. Some of them I went to school with, some of them I'd see while out and about.
It was amazing to see, what can happen in a few years. Obviously most of them have studied and started working and all sorts of things you do. But the thing that surprised me most was the amount of people who have gotten engaged, married and had babies. Even girls younger than me seem to be all settled down, with rings in their fingers and in some cases, a second child on the way.

It also made me realise that I'm surprised about the way my life has turned out. I was like those girls once, I just did things in a different order. I went through a phase, where I got engaged, planned all sorts of silly things for the future and thought I was in love. When, in fact I was just playing grown-up and trying to find some kind of peace into my crazy life. Things went pear-shaped, as could be expected, and I tore my university application forms, packed my bags and moved to a different town. I started partying for all the years I'd wasted taking care of someone else. Then I moved to Ireland.

I didn't have any plans to stay here for more than a year. Then I met Himself.
And it seems it's the best "accident" that ever happened to me.
We don't have babies (mainly because we wouldn't be able to fit one into the apartment! ;)) but we have the nicest and strangest adopted family.
My "adopted" son is nearly a decade older than me. He started out as Himself's friend. Then he hit a bad patch, we helped him back to his feet and he became part of the family. He hears the kettle from miles away and comes in for a cup of tea. We make his cuppa the way he likes it, he knows my weakness for chocolate and I can stay in my pyjamas when he's around. It's all very effortless and nice.

Then I've Billy Jr, who I already mentioned in the last post. He is the newest addition to the family. Billy is a toy monkey, who came home with me from Dublin Zoo. He was named after Billy Connolly, although this young gentleman is a good bit quieter than his namesake. :) He keeps to himself, usually sitting on the cymbal of my drumkit. For some reason people are very interested in him, especially when they've had few drinks, which is why I'm planning to hide him for the duration of parties.

Then we have a collection of people, who call in for a chat and a coffee. I usually use them as guinea pigs, making them eat whatever happens to be cooking. (By the looks of them, I should probably use less spices! :D)

"Friends are the family you choose", they say. I think there might be a bit of truth in that one! :)

Party planning

In our home things work very strangely. Usually parties are planned and carefully thought through. In our case, we decided not to go there. First of all, most of our friends are musicians, which means that they are quite busy during the party season. And if they are busy, their better halves won't be coming either. And that would mean a very quiet party.

So we waited to see, if himself happens to have a night off before Christmas. And so happened, that next Sunday is the day. We threw all the half-made guestlists into the fire and sent everyone an invite. And when I say invite, this is what I mean: Himself texted everyone something along these lines "Drinks in the flat on 21st. Come along and bring himself/herself. 8 onwards. No drink, no entry." What can I say, the man's an artist! :D

I was getting worried no-one would come, but already nine people confirmed. And knowing Irish people, that can mean anything from 2 to 20. So it'll be interesting to say the least.
Now all I have to do is to figure out how to fit the people in the flat and where to hide Billy Jr. for the duration of the party. And get snacks and drink, lots and lots of drink. :)

Season of colds and busy better halves

Himself dug up the Christmas records again. A few weeks ago. He says it's because he needs to re-learn the songs for gigs, but I think he secretly likes them. A particular favourite of his is the one with Tom Jones and your one going on about the weather outside.
The only Christmas-related song I like is Fairytale of New York, mainly because it's not really a Christmas song at all. It's refreshing to hear a bit of strong language and drama to balance out all the talk about nicely behaved children, Santa and his little helpers.

So, you probably already figured out I'm not the biggest fan of this season. When I tell this to people, they look at me as if I just told them I like throwing rotten eggs at little old ladies.
There is a reason for my dislike. For me, the idea of this time of the year stopped being pleasant when I was about 5. Christmas was about having to choose between parents, causing stress and guilt. Later I had to try to explain to various relatives, why I did things a certain way. And so on.

My best Christmas so far was few years back, when due to work reasons I didn't have to see any lights, trees or decorations. Then I met himself, and suddenly Crimbo came back into my life. See, my better half is quite traditional. He considers the idea of spending Christmas abroad strange and actually likes putting up a tree. So, last Christmas I gave it a go. And, unfortunately, still didn't like it.

Himself is in his element, busy gigging and playing Christmas songs to drunken and very, very merry people.
I, on the other hand, am busy blowing my nose, looking for my woolly socks and making tea.
And soon it's time for me to decorate myself with the biggest fake smile and a look of polite interest.

Or I could always get a few drinks into myself and sing The Pogues. Now there's an idea.

All together now: "It's Chrrrristmas eeeeeve babe, in the drunk tank...".

Surviving bad news.

I have been surrounded by people after the bad news. It's good, because I don't want to cry in front of people I don't know that well. And after a while spent with them, I didn't even feel like crying. And, where there's Irish people, there's usually drink as well. That might have had something to do with it...

So, friday came and we decided to go and get rat-arsed. You can forget about "drowning your sorrows", it was more like "getting absolutely hammered, getting your sorrows out of your system, dancing on them and then setting them on fire".

Usually I go out with the lads. I remembered why, when we got some girly additions into the group. See, lads are usually chilled and don't care about making a fool out of themselves. I even enjoy dancing with my male mates, because I can jump around like an idiot, mosh and look stupid. None of this "dancing-around-the-handbags-in-a-circle"- crack. I never got the point of it, so if someone has some inside-information, please explain!

Anyway, there I was,trying to enjoy myself after hearing that I'd lost my job. And the girlies were sitting quietly at the table, knickers in a twist over boy trouble. Watching their faces getting longer by the hour wasn't doing much to improve my mood, so I escaped to the ladies.
There, in the middle of the otherwise very clinical-looking door, was a sentence someone had scribbled; "Don't give up" inside a heart.
For some reason that felt like a sign and cheered me up no end.

So, I went back out, went clubbing and danced my socks off.
Sunday was a Joe Dolan day, so obviously we had to go out again. Certain things just have to be done. And we had a great time again.

So next time you get bad news (or even without them), give it a go. Forget about coolness and looking good; talk to strangers, surround yourself with nice people, listen to strange music, do things you wouldn't normally do.

And try moshing, it really works! ;)

Bad day

When I was very young, my Father gave me a useful bit of knowledge. It was "Never shit on your own doorstep". I've brought that with me to my later life, expanding it to mean not only my old family, but also the new one and my workplace as well. I try not to let outsiders into certain things that happen in these little circles, because I always believed that loyalty is paid back with loyalty.

When I came to Ireland, I noticed that loyalty is hard to get, especially if you don't happen to be Irish. Shitty jobs, bad contracts (or no contracts at all) and strange arrangements have followed each other for the past years. I've talked to several nice, smart and hardworking girls, from different countries, and the story stays the same. One of them had a boss, who made up a story about her and fired her as a result. One works for way too many hours a week for about 3 euro/hour. It goes on and on.

I've worked the whole time I've been in this country, paying taxes and never getting anything back. When my hours got cut in my second job, I tried to get help. I was told, that my interest is not in the state and that I have connections to other countries (since I happen to have parents who live in another country. Shocking!). So I couldn't get any support.
The same thing happened again, when the economical situation got worse a little while ago. This time the fact that himself is Irish was considered to be a bonus. Funny, that. :/

Today, I came to work.
I needed to get some papers signed and my boss asked me to come to the office. He told me, that my hours are needed for his children and that the business isn't successful enough to keep me in. He told me, that I could work today, and get my P45 on Monday. Fast action.
I don't know which one of us got more of a shock, me for loosing my job or him, when I burst into tears. (I'm not one of the feminine, quiet tears -type of cryers either, so...)
He gave me three more weeks, or so.

I pulled myself together and went to work. Service with a smile, at that.

My Mother also gave me a tip for life. "Leave a place in a better shape than it was when you first came in."
So, after I got the news, I came in, armed myself with a brush and a dustpan and started cleaning. At least now there won't be any actual shit on the doorstep. *laughs*

Waking up to the smell of coffee? I wish!

When myself and the better half moved in together first, we pretty much knew where we stood, so there was no annoying fights about pointless things like toilet seats or "where-to-squeeze-the-toothpaste". (Universally known discussions, I'd say! :D)

Obviously we had our own habits, hobbies and little quirks, which spiced up the life nicely.
Then, for various reasons, these things started to change. (Don't hold your breath, there's no fight scenes or slamming doors)
We started to share some hobbies, which is quite natural. He started to teach me how to play guitar, then the drum kit moved into the flat last Christmas. I taught him how to do things with the computer. You know the way it goes.

Then we swapped some of our habits. I used to drink about six cups of coffee a day and act like the squirrel from Hoodwinked. He was a tea man. And all of a sudden the roles were reversed.
I used to fall asleep in the middle of watching DVDs, even Billy Connolly's shouting wasn't enough to keep me awake. I'd even go as far as to say I kind of found his scottish accent soothing.
Now it's himself who needs his "10 min recharge" and, believe you me, isn't afraid to take it! He snores merrily away on a daily basis for a few minutes and isn't nearly as grumpy afterwards.

We are getting closer to the point, hard as it may be to believe. One of these "swaps" was our "body clock". He used to gig a lot, stay up late and have breakfast after most people's lunchtime. I used to be up at half seven. (Not that I wanted to, but these things -read: WORK- happen). Now he has to wake up at some godforsaken hour (words "rooster's" and "fart" come to mind) and I won't move before some time after 10. This is where the trouble start and title takes it's spotlight.

I can't sleep after waking up once. He sleeps in 5 seconds, if something manages to wake him up in the first place.
This morning he slept through the alarm. He woke up to the furious sound of a text message. I didn't, because it wasn't my phone and my brain knew not to care. What did wake me up was himself shouting, roaring and going through words I don't feel like repeating here. After he noticed I was awake, he fell happily back to sleep and left me lying wide awake, hyperventilating from the fright.

So here I am, drinking energy drinks to help me stay awake for the remaining of my ten-hour-shift. To be fair, I think it might help, if I didn't stay awake half the night doing things I didn't necessarily have to. Ah well.

P.S.
I've actually been able to watch all the Billy Connolly DVDs now without falling asleep, and have really started to appreciate him as a comedian, not just for his soothing shouting. :)

Here's to new starts. :)

I decided to start writing this in English, just to see how it goes. If the text is full of mistakes, we'll blame the oul' typos, ok? *winks*



Most of the other things I've started lately aren't necessarily that good for me. One of these being over-using the internet. And I won't even pretend that I'm doing something useful, like studying (even though I should) or doing work-related research.. No, I overdose on Facebook, play games and do random searches on Wikipedia. The stupider the better seems to be my new motto. So, when I came across some blogs about fashion, love and life (during these random searches of mine) I decided to give it a go. At least this way my English gets some use. There's always an excuse, see? :D



I should probably introduce myself.

I'm twenty-something and live in Ireland. I'm not Irish, but that you probably knew already. Knowing myself, my texts won't have a theme as such. I love several things, music being the main one. Oh, and my better half, a very nice irishman, who we can call the better half or just simply himself. Just to keep the peace. So these things will most likely pop up in the writing...again and again.



I also love cooking, which is good because I'm surrounded by hungry musicians and other strange people. We like movies in this house as well, the collection already takes more space than me. Then again, I'm only small. :D



I also dislike lots of things strongly. (Trying not to use word "hate" too much, that's for special occasions. :D) I'm very grumpy, so please try not to mind me giving out about random things. :)



So, a summary: Music, hugs and random rants. :)



It's getting late, and my fingers are freezing to the laptop, so nighty night!