You’re blood. You’re all over the place, but you
definitely keep things moving. You’re thick,
but sweet. You enjoy others’ physical pain.
And you keep coming back until you finally
clot. Some people faint when they see you.
Which bodily discharge are you?
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Went to the dr before Gealcon and got anti bios turns out I have a chest infection, nearly over it at last.
I wasn’t able to go out the Friday before the con was in bed in a heap. Thankfully the kids had been whisked off to wexford for a few
days and my bf came to mind me.
Did not feel able to go to the con on the Saturday spent most of it at home and finally crying about my Gran and coughing up vile green stuff. Had but of off a lot but with someone there that was willing to hold me and wipe away my tear it was easier.
I did go out to the Fancy dress fun raiser Saturday night but only after 6 different people had been in touch and nagged me in it.
This was an odd night, no drinking due to not being well and I didn’t stay out long but it was nice to see people and get hugs and to meet Lou’s new chap.
Got home slept, got up at 8 am to print up the scenario and have breaky. The 40 gig drive I had in my pc went on the fritz again 🙁 the character sheet that I had not out into the ms publisher rewrite were not to be found. Well I now have a gmail account for saving everything too. There was much upset and stomping and kicking of walls and crying.
Did what I could, got a taxi to the con. It seemed rather quiet. Said hello to a few people, cringingly handed in the scenario.
The table I ran went well it was fun and there was someone involved in the scene that took the time to talk to me about it afterward they had enjoyed it and so did the other people at the table. Went and grabbed a bit to eat and then topped up on paracetamals and went and played the vampire game that was on in the afternoon.
The game went well enough. It was incredibly frustrating to try play as a group to achieve an objective or a goal when on the persons sitting beside you has either 3/4 of thier back turned to you as they play to thier friend at the end of the table or are for the rest of the time ignoring you or talking over you at the person gming the game.
If you only want to play with your friend that the tables then don’t sit down at a table with 4 other people on it, ESP if you are ment to be playing the group leader.
IC/OCC one of the people at the table got very upset at the endgame of the scenario played out and the twist was revealed. It was hard to tell if the upset or shock being betrayed was in char or out of char, I tried addressing them IC and explaining as was asked why my char came to certain conclusions but when some one snaps at you and then starts to cry I tend to decided that I am finished playing or explaining.
I was at this stage utterly exhausted. I did get a bunch of the big d10 from the box of the door and did get to have my yearly 3 minute conversation with Dorian part of the Gealcon experience for me each year. Planning on giving some of them to my kids teachers for the kids in the class room to play with. The gamer virus still spreads. I said good bye to people and set about getting home ASAP and ordered Chinese as I was not up to cooking anything. Ate food and was in bed before ten.
Woke up the next morning at 6 am to spend the next few hours being horrendously ill and not being able to get away from the toilet oh the joy of good poisoning. I do feel really really shitty that things went so badly for the entire weekend and that I let people down. But I did the best I could. Spent most of Monday in bed. My ex was due home and my bf was so worried about me that he talked my into coming to stay over in his the Monday night. He is still living at home but his parents are wonderful people.
The next day it was up and home and had a bath and a much needed nap and then up to my parents house and to the removal of my Gran from the funeral home to the church and then to the pub to talk and mingle with family and friends.
The funeral the next day was very hard and I cried buckets but I did have my bf there to hold my hand and two of my friends there to suport me. Thank you both. During the traditional adding earth to the grave my aunt Ann slipped, she then totter backwards and I just grabbed her to make sure she didn’t go any further back. As amusing that it would have been to have some one land thier arse on the coffin it would not have been good for her or the rest of the family. It was then back to the reception for sandwiches and to talk to family and to talk about Gran and to sign the remembrance book. I didn’t stay long but left to go home and curl up in my bed cry a heap more and then slept before my children arrived home.
I love my kids they are a joy. Thursday through to Sunday was spent with them, playing with them catching up on the cleaning I had not been able to do cos I had been sick, going to bed early and getting over this damned chest infection.
Yesterday I was happy just to be going no where and to be pottering about the kitchen making roast stuffed garlic chicken and honey roast ham while they and thier friends made the biggest adventure hopscotch all over the garden out on to the path and on to parts of the road. Street chalks rock. The hopscotch ran up to 56 and whiles not a traditional hopscotch it was bordering on a work of art and it kept 7 kids happy and busy for over two hours.
Had some very interesting conversations with my 5 year old will write about them later.
Life goes on, the sun rises and sets. Hmmm maybe I should have not watched fiddler on the roof twice this weekend.
I found this on a friends livejournal. Tried to track it’s orginal scource but gave up after two hours.
But I liked it so much I wanted to add it to my blog.
If you are a woman voter, thank a feminist.
If your doctor is a woman, thank a feminist.
If you open the help-wanted section of any newspaper and see job listings classified by occupation rather than “help wanted – male” and “help wanted – female”, thank a feminist.
If your depression is taken seriously rather than considered a byproduct of having a uterus, thank a feminist.
If, in counselling, you aren’t assumed to envy a man for having a penis, thank a feminist.
If you can have birth control prescribed to you without first obtaining your husband’s written permission, thank a feminist.
If you’re allowed to teach school regardless of your marital status, and you’re a woman, thank a feminist.
If you’re allowed to enter an apprenticeship program, thank a feminist.
If you are told you can become something other than a nurse, a grade-school teacher, a housewife and mother, or a nun, thank a feminist.
If you expect to be considered for admission to university programs based on your qualifications rather than your gender, thank a feminist.
If you expect your qualifications for admission to educational programs to be considered equally, rather than after every male applicant has been admitted, thank a feminist.
If you have ever heard of spousal rape, and know that there’s a law against it, thank a feminist.
If you’ve heard of domestic violence, and know that it’s illegal, thank a feminist.
If you can drive, thank a feminist.
If you expect to be paid the same wage as a man doing the same job you are, with the same seniority and the same qualifications, thank a feminist.
If you are considered a person in your own right rather than the chattel of a man, thank a feminist.
If you’re legally permitted to own property in your own name, thank a feminist.
If you don’t expect to be fired because a man “needs your job to feed his family”, thank a feminist.
If the phrase “non-traditional occupation” seems a little old-fashioned or, better yet, you don’t understand it at all, thank a feminist.
If you can look in the yellow pages of your nearest major metropolis and find a dedicated women’s clinic, thank a feminist.
If you hear terms like “firefighter”, “police officer”, or “postal worker” in everday life, thank a feminist.
If the phrase “she’s a woman lawyer” seems odd, thank a feminist.
If you or any person you know receives child support, thank a feminist.
If your parent(s) received child support when you were growing up, thank a feminist.
If you aren’t expected to leave the room at a party when the conversation turns to current events and politics, thank a feminist.
If you’re a grown woman and don’t expect to be called “girl” when you’re fifty, thank a feminist.
Feminists brought about all of these things. Before the feminists got involved, the reverse was true in each and every case.
My Gran died. It was not unexpected she was after all 84 and had been in unwell for the last two years and on oxygen for the last 12mtns. She died at home on her bed in her room where she gave birth do all her 8 children. She was tired and worn out but thankfully not in a lot of pain.
She was rather pissed off when the pope died she really didn’t think that she would out live him. She didn’t think much of the new one. I do have things in common with her.
the same outspokenness and smutty sense of humour. She lived a hell of a live in a time
Of big changes in this country, she moved from Mayo to Dublin to be a children’s maid at the age of 16 and spent some time in service before she meet and married my Granddad who was 14 years older then her.
They had been on several dates when one day she got off the tram to meet him wearing of all things the latest fashion a trouser suit. My Granddad insisted that she get back on the tram and told her she would be waiting for her when she returned wearing a skirt that she
was no hussy and ladies wear skirts and he was to be the only one wearing trousers in this relationship. My Granddad died when I was 11 but even I do know that they loved each other dearly and she was looking forward to seeing him when she died.
My Mam is understandably upset but glad that Gran has finally gone and as much as she misses her would prefer that she went the way she did and won’t suffer the degrading decline which would have be her fate if she had of lived longer. My Mam spent 6 to 8 hours a day with my Gran and was her medical guardian so it is a loving burden that has been lifted.
The funeral will be after the bank holiday weekend. So well so much for avoiding my family after the fun of the wedding. I can’t not go to the funeral, I do infact want to go and be there and pay my respects. My ex wants to go too. He has been in my life and that of my family for the last 9 years. He liked my Gran and most of my family and extended
Family. It is understandable that my ex wants to be there for his own reasons.
But if my ex attends that will mean the person I am seeing most likely will not, as not to cause a fuss. He wants to go and be there for me and hold my and hug me and be supportive in all the ways that I need and that my ex will not and can not be; to let me know that I am not alone.
Tbh I want him there with me for my own selfish reasons.
He wasn’t at the wedding but damn it he is a part of my life and most likely will be
for a long time to come as a lover and a friend who will always be in my life.
Is it wrong to want to have someone there at your grandmother’s funeral that will comfort and console you?
Thankfully my ex’s mother is taking the kids for some of their midterm break, so they will be well cared for and away in wexford and not at the funeral.
They do they do indeed.
Tis not just the books you know.
They are pretty wonderful, ah the earliest form escapism, better then drugs,
No hangovers, socially acceptable; infact encouraged.
Lost of books that you can get a lend of and curl up and read and disappear into another world, into someone else’s head and see things differently for a while.
Trust me it works, go try read Clive Baker or Poppy Z Brite for a shock to your senses.
Growing up the eldest of 5 kids the library a mere 15 mins walk away become a sanctuary. It was quiet there. There were no screaming, squabbling, crying kids.
ESP if you got your book and snuck to sit at the table just inside the door to the adult library which was always closed and kept out the noise.
I could sit quietly and not be disturbed to mind anyone or force out to ‘play’.
This tactic never really interrupted my reading. I always had more then one book and
If eviction from the sitting room was pending there was already another book placed behind the curtain of the sitting room out of sight but with in reach from the outside of the sitting room window.
Ah yes libraries. The Blanchardstown library is a lot bigger then the on in finglas; where I grew up, yes part of me feel like I spent enough time there to consider it one of the places I grew up in. Lots and lots and lots of books and comfy seats and even more books. There are also computers.
The children’s section has many parts.
There is the nice desk where the lady sits and she has tubs of crayons and cool picture to be coloured in and if you ask she will let you pick a jigsaw but you can’t have it unless you promise to count the piece with her when you give it back.
There are nice kids sized table and chairs that grown up look silly in when they try to sit with you. Designed so that every Mammy’s bum look big when they sit on them
( even the castleknock unislim gold members Mammys 😛 )
There is a big notice board where you can stick up your picture if you don’t want to take it home as the fridge in the kitchen is utterly camouflaged or you want your glorious statement that the bear in the big blue house who is usually orange not blue can be purple like the otters Pip and Pop for a change.
There is the story circle where stories get read at appointed times or if a Mammy (or daddy or who ever is so foolish or brave) starts to read aloud they get an audience of little listening ears. This is also the sing a long circle but again only at appointed times.
Just because the last time you were there you got to do ‘If you are happy and you know it’ at the top of you little lungs does not mean you race to do a repeat performance every time you enter the library.
There are lots of funny wooden boxes painted different colours with large wooden animals on them, and they are created for holding all those kids stories books that are
Too tall, too wide, too floppy or strange to stay on a plain old book shelf.
An ordinary bookshelf could not constrain or restrain such books.
Each a treasure in it’s own right to be discovered and explored.
There is the Lego and stickle brick corner but really that is only for babies and little boys that have been fed too much sugar and both types end up only throwing the blocks and bricks.
Then there is ‘older’ section of the children’s library where are plain old book shelves but they are lower down hen the grown ups books; and the grown ups books are not as colorful. Here are books that are so good that even grow ups sometimes come to read them. This is the quieter part of the children’s library there are still games but at least
For the most part the chess pieces don’t get flung about the place.
There are chess lessons too, on Monday’s for an hour.
This my two off spring discovered having become bored of all the other delights
And came, running back to report what they had found among the big shelves and imploring to be allowed stay and play. Stay they did for an hour while a kindly gentleman
Explained the pieces and the rules. They sat and took it in and hardly fidgeted at all.
At seven you can sit and not fidget, harder when you are five and have learn the art of the theatrical wink and hand wriggles. I have informed they ‘have’ to go back next Monday.
It was great to see them happy there and it gave me a chance to have a look at what I guess it the kids self help section. There are lots of book on everything from a pet dying, moving house, a new baby to ‘What is splitting up? ‘ . Nice to know that those type of
books are there for parent to read with their kids and work through issues and get the parent to see things from a child’s point of view and let the child know it is not their fault
And that this has happened to other kids.
I also got to have a look at the notice board while the serious seven year old was explaining to the frivolous five year old that you don’t have to make a horse noise while moving your knight on the board, which causes her to pick up the piece and wonder if the knight fell off. Funny how time still flies when your in a library, where did those
Two hours go to. I reckon all libraries are magical even ones with out librarians that look like orange primates.
Ok one of them apparently is hairy enough to be a bear but that just ment we got to have another chat about personal remarks on the way home in-between playing I spy and wondering if they had books about volcanoes and why we don’t have any.
You Are Subversion!You are systematic and secretive. Sometimes even very calculating. Most everyone trusts you but they have no idea what really goes on in your head. You are capable of being nice or mean, whatever a situation calls for. You look out for #1.
I took the most accurate villain personality test
created by: The Arch Villainess Gracie
Mim: With only a touch, I have the power
zim zaba rim bim, to wither a flower
I find delight in the gruesome and grim
‘Cause I’m the magnificent, marvelous, mad Madam Mim
I can be huge, fill a whole house
I can be tiny, small as a mouse
black sorcery is my dish of tea
(spoken) it comes easy to me
’cause I’m the magnificent, marvelous, mad Madam Mim!
I can be beautiful, lovely and fair
Silvery voice, long purple hair
la la la la, la la la la la la
la la la la la, la la la la la la
but it’s only skin deep
for zim zaberim zim
I’m an ugly old creep
The magnificent, marvelous, mad, mad, mad, mad Madam Mim!
dear, you are Bookish, aren’t you? You are a
highly intelligent and witty bluestocking,
whose beauty is hidden behind spectacles. Your
dress sense is eccentric and a little
unfashionable, and you consider yourself plain.
You have very little use for men, who find your
knowledge of Shakespeare, interest in politics
and forthright speech formidable. You are
undoubtedly well-off. The only reason for your
presence in a novel of this kind (which, I
might add, you would not dream of reading,
although you have occasionally enjoyed the
works of Miss Austen), is your mother, who is
absolutely determined that you will make a good
marriage. Rather than defying her directly,
you are quietly subversive, dancing with anyone
who asks you, but making no attempt to hide
your intellectual interests. The only person
who can get past your facade is the man who is
witty enough to spar with you, and be amused at
your blatant attempts to scare your suitors
away. While you will, no doubt, subject him to
a gruelling cross-examination to find out
whether his respect for your intelligence is
real or mere flattery, you may be sure that he
is your match, and that you, he AND your mother
will all live happily ever after
The Regency Romance Quiz: What kind of Romance Heroine are you?
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