(Playing games…. or learning maths?)

It’s way too late to be writing a blog, it’s past eleven thirty and my bedtime is ten….. My thinking is slow and not a thought comes to mind…. except the yummy barn brack I bought today. It’s staring down at me from the counter….. probably too late to have some now? Maybe for breakfast?

(Playing with fire….. or learning physics?)

Everything about halloween is a reminder of childhood. If not my own – bobbing for apples (didn’t even like apples); then my children’s – dressing up and going house to house for sweets. The loved things during our childhood, are another clue in the search for what we want.

(Playing with stones…. or learning geography?)

When we were children we didn’t judge our methods of passing the time. Making mud pies or weed salad was fun and so was worthy of our effort. Then on some momentous day the message got through…. not every activity was equal. The activities that could get us a good job were the most important. Thus we were welcomed into the real world.

Remember what you loved to do as a child and welcome in the really real world! Mairead.

(A rainbow over Greystones by Isabel)

Tiny little message today…… do something nice for someone today. Maybe tell them something beautiful that’s true about them. Or make them take a break. Or listen to them, really listen. Or run a bath for them. Or point them towards a comfy sofa. Or send them an email with a list of all the things that you like about them. Or send them to bed for a rest. Or remind them to do something that they love to do. Or take them for a walk. Or find a picture of them that you love and put it up somewhere they’ll notice. Or remind them of the best days you’ve spent with them.

And promise them you’ll do it again….. soon.

That’s it, message over, Mairead.

PS the someone has to be YOU. Yep, do something nice for YOU today!

(I was all alone in the Happy Pear today…. or was I?)

Had to take the car in for it’s NCT (car health check) last week. Was a little worried that it might not pass. Don’t tell anyone but it’s been three years since it’s last confession service….. Was a big bit worried that it might not pass without one. My neighbour advised, Check the lights, the wipers and the tires. So I had a look at the lights, lovely….. except for a little hole in the lens…. The wipers were leaving a greasy film on the window but I added a bit of the windscreen stuff and they cleaned like new. The tyres were new so they were probably fine.

I arrived with all my documents checked and re-checked fifteen minutes before the test time. When you get there you have go inside to register. I noticed there were cars parked haphazardly all over the place, I found a spot near the back. After the registration I needed to get into the queue. What queue?

The queue was the haphazardly parked cars. Very soon men in overalls started walking over to the cars all around me. Eventually  a nice man with a New Zealand accent (that’s just a guess, but he did remind me of my two favourite New Zealanders) walked over to me and took my car…..

(That’s me in the corner… line from an REM song!)

I needed to run to the nearby post office to send a present to my niece in Canada, (it’s her birthday today, Happy Birthday, Caoimhe!) and when I got back I went straight to the viewing area. This is a corridor with a glass wall that looks onto the garage, so you can watch your car being tested. But my car was gone! There was a queue in the post office but I was only away for ten minutes. Is that a good or bad sign? On my way back to the registration desk I heard my nice man calling my name, so I waved, in a friendly way…. just in case the test result was borderline.

It was borderline…… when I get the little hole fixed it’ll get a pass, go car!

Being tested is never easy, just useful, Mairead.

(Bits and pieces of joy…)

Took the advice of a friend and set aside time this morning to do something creative. Tearing pieces of paper from a magazine and gluing them onto a canvas, like a collage….. is so so so calming. Therapeutic really, and fun too! The intention was to play… like a child. No worries about the outcome, or about doing it right, or doing it perfectly. I am looking forward to the next opportunity and maybe I will invite more people to play too.

(I was given this cute little plant)

In the meantime I’m back to preparing for assignments, courses, dinner, accounts and Christmas (just joking about Christmas!)  I keep thinking that I have so much to do and not enough time, but I’m guessing if I changed that thought I might be doing what I have to do in a more pleasant way.

(Remember the dress-up cardboard doll with paper clothes? This was an ad from the magazine for an internet clothes shop. )

There was a time in France when we accidentally had an eight hour motorbike ride ahead of us and I was a tad upset? (For tad upset, insert raving lunatic mad upset!) There I was on the back of the bike, beautiful sunny day, amazing scenery and I was feeling like I had ridden the eight hours already. Meanwhile, Denis was up front, very excited, enjoying every minute! Changing my attitude then made the first seven hours pleasurable. The last hour was painful… I was tired and sore, but the attitude change allowed me to save the pain until it was real!

Ok… with exactly enough time, I bid you good day, Mairead.

Travelling the Wicklow roads early this morning on my way to my course was a beautiful experience. There was mist, rain, fog and warmth. And it was beautiful. The trees were turning, green, yellow, light brown, dark brown. The sky was white, pink, red and blue. There was a magical feeling. I drove with the windows down and the music playing. Until I got cold.

Travelling home I was dejected, tired, emotional and cranky! How a few hours can make a big difference? I had assignments to consider, questionnaires to hand  out, the questions still to be written, people to coach, people to be coached by and oh there will be an exam……..

Denis took one look at me and decided we needed to go to the tapas bar. It’s so much more difficult for me to wobble into meltdown in a public place. And he was right, we had wonderful Spanish food, I tested my love of calamari (squid) and found it still strong. As am I… strong again and ready to face a new week.

If you think you’re going to wobble….don’t, Mairead.

(Credit for the wobble quote to Suzie via Lusi)

(The second stray)

Ok, who’s sending the cats? Another stray cat has arrived at our back door. His meow is even louder than the first one. Is it possible that I’ve reached a certain age and I’m attracting cats? Fred (our cat) is none too happy. When he’s not attacking the newcomers, he’s looking disdainfully at me as I feed them. Yes, I’m feeding the second stray too…..

(Saw this old post box today – still in use)

I went to the vet today to get some worming tablets and flea drops. The receptionist was lovely, she sympathised with my situation. But now I have an appointment to bring the two cats down to the vet tomorrow to consider neutering! I have no idea how that happened.

Now I’m wondering…. what if the cats are just visiting us? What if they live two doors down and just like our cat food better? How would their owners react if they arrived back home with stitches and a neck collar? Could be tricky…..

Is there a law against taking the reproductive organs out of someone else’s pet? Mairead.

(Needle, wool, stitches, sigh….)

I was thinking about the quilt I made for my dad about 10 years ago, the Christmas before he died. Well…. it wasn’t exactly a quilt, more of a little blanket. And co-incidentally it was made from old blankets. I got the idea from a class I attended. In the begining it was going to be quilt-sized and perfect… but I had other stuff to do, so it was small and imperfect!

(Detail from my Dad’s quilt)

I got the blankets from my mother and dyed them red, blue and green. She and my Dad originally received them as wedding presents in the 60s. But they’d stopped using them in favour of duvets, easier for bed making. My Dad’s quilt is made from cut up scraps of those coloured blankets, sewn together. Even as I sit here in a noisy Dart in the dark on my way home I can remember the exquisite pleasure of sewing those scraps together with coloured wool.

(More detail….)

This has made me consider two separate parts to creating something…… 1) the creating of it and 2) the finished creation. Even though the finished creation may never be perfect, there is huge value in the creating of it.

Go forth and create something imperfect, Mairead

(The ESB chimneys at Pigeon House)

I had an appointment in Sandymount today and as I was a little early I parked the car and took some pictures from the beach nearby. There are a few parking areas along the roadside but I have had my eye on the one with a huge piece of art in it, so that’s where I stopped.

(Huge art, the plaque says it’s a present from Mexico)

For years I passed this way taking my daughter to the clinic for physiotherapy but I never took the opportunity to stop. Standing here today I feel like I know this place and yet it seems different. The piece of art for instance is very familiar to me…. well I suppose it’s hard to miss, it’s huge. But also I recognise that although the tide is in today, when its out it’s way out, possible a couple of miles out. How can I know this place when I have only passed by, never stopped here?

(This area looks so different from this perspective)

Like meeting a TV newsreader in the street and thinking you know her. Where do I know her from? The truth is you don’t know her and I don’t know that beach. Sometimes we think we know something or someone and we really don’t.

Taking the first step in getting to know the beach at Strand Road, Mairead.

(Keeping this one)

You might remember months ago when we came back from our motorcycle ride to Spain and I said we had too much stuff? I started to de-clutter and about two months later I brought ten bags of books to the charity shop. They had been hiding conveniently, for a very long time, in a wardrobe. Now they are gone and I don’t miss them. I’m sure, originally, when we saw them in the book shop they were very attractive and we thought we needed to bring them home?

(Heavy rain here today)

There was one we’ve had since we got married, The Reader’s Digest of Home Maintenance. My sister would find that surprising, having noticed how little maintenance we do around the house. Then there was the Pocket Wine Book. (As an aside no one has a pocket that big.) I doubt we ever read it, we seem to prefer to drink wine rather than read about it.

(Maybe I need to move on to my craft stocks?)

After all those books I had to take a break…. a two month break! But I’m back and now I’ve tidied my clothes wardrobe. If I had realised what a difference it would make I would not have let it get so bad. Truly, the Less clothes you have in your wardrobe the More likely you are to find something to wear.

Sometimes too much choice is a burden…. Mairead.