Rocking Baba..

We were at a funeral this morning.

Thankfully it wasn't really one of those sad funerals - not meaning to sound flippant you understand - but the dearly departed was 105 years of age. That's about as good as it gets I reckon. I hadn't actually met her, she lived next door and wasn't really leaving the house much in the last year or so, since we moved in next door actually. These two facts may be related.

But, it sounded like she had a pretty good life, and we were happy to pay our respects.




I say we - I'm referring to me and Baby Oubliette. And I think Baby Oub wasn't really taking in the solemnity of the occasion. I think I was paying my respects and she was thinking about how boring it was in this big, cold building.

This became apparent when, clear as a bell, as the centenarian's son-in-law was delivering a touching eulogy, she sang out, word (and note) perfect -

'We will, we will, Rock you!"

Baby Oub like all the Oub offspring (in their day) suffers from speech delay. (I guess I shouldn't put them in front of the telly, with soothers and not talk to them ever. It may not help.)

Why-oh-why did she choose this moment to find her voice? To embarrass me of course. She may be only two and a half, but she's got that one down pat.

Rocking Baba..

We were at a funeral this morning.

Thankfully it wasn't really one of those sad funerals - not meaning to sound flippant you understand - but the dearly departed was 105 years of age. That's about as good as it gets I reckon. I hadn't actually met her, she lived next door and wasn't really leaving the house much in the last year or so, since we moved in next door actually. These two facts may be related.

But, it sounded like she had a pretty good life, and we were happy to pay our respects.




I say we - I'm referring to me and Baby Oubliette. And I think Baby Oub wasn't really taking in the solemnity of the occasion. I think I was paying my respects and she was thinking about how boring it was in this big, cold building.

This became apparent when, clear as a bell, as the centenarian's son-in-law was delivering a touching eulogy, she sang out, word (and note) perfect -

'We will, we will, Rock you!"

Baby Oub like all the Oub offspring (in their day) suffers from speech delay. (I guess I shouldn't put them in front of the telly, with soothers and not talk to them ever. It may not help.)

Why-oh-why did she choose this moment to find her voice? To embarrass me of course. She may be only two and a half, but she's got that one down pat.

Monday Poem!

It doesn't scan, and the rhyming's rubbish - but I've got to pick the kids up from school, and then take them to swimming lessons and then take them to football. I've run out of time. So, here it is anyway, TFE's poem...

Pockets

Evidence of snuffles, tuffles of tissues
clouds of cottony snottingly mush
ten thousand receipts, crumpled
to a rumpled mercantile origami.
A swim cap, a crayon, commando crumbs
waiting to stage attacks under nails of
fingers and thumbs.
Argos pen pilfered - casual thievery, up the slievery.
small celibate change, a lonely English ten pee
left on deposit, kept in the closet
liberated for beggars if they look suitably sad
I think you'll agree its a colourful melee,
but hardly room for my hands in the crush.

Monday Poem!

It doesn't scan, and the rhyming's rubbish - but I've got to pick the kids up from school, and then take them to swimming lessons and then take them to football. I've run out of time. So, here it is anyway, TFE's poem...

Pockets

Evidence of snuffles, tuffles of tissues
clouds of cottony snottingly mush
ten thousand receipts, crumpled
to a rumpled mercantile origami.
A swim cap, a crayon, commando crumbs
waiting to stage attacks under nails of
fingers and thumbs.
Argos pen pilfered - casual thievery, up the slievery.
small celibate change, a lonely English ten pee
left on deposit, kept in the closet
liberated for beggars if they look suitably sad
I think you'll agree its a colourful melee,
but hardly room for my hands in the crush.

Eieio

It's a bunch of muck now, but fingers crossed, with a bit of luck it'll be green and bountiful come the summer.

(Look how well the shadow and 7 year old boy seeds are doing already.)


Yay! Go Allotment!

Eieio

It's a bunch of muck now, but fingers crossed, with a bit of luck it'll be green and bountiful come the summer.

(Look how well the shadow and 7 year old boy seeds are doing already.)


Yay! Go Allotment!

Lent 0 - Domestic Oubliette 1

I spent the afternoon snoozing on the sofa. Is that bad? I told the kids not to disturb me, so as a consequence they woke me up every five minutes.

Is it a good thing to doze while your children potter about? I must say I always think of Uiscebots story of burning the house down when he was a young chap anytime I take a little 'Mammy Break'. But hey, look how well Uisce turned out. I've probably not got much to worry about, when you think about it...really..

I have the sniffles you see. And I didn't sleep too well last night. And I've been out every second night for the past week. My poor delicate constitution can only take so much. A little sleep was all that stood between me and a 'leave the nine year old in charge of his little brother and sister and jumping on a flight to somewhere warm' tabloid storm.

And, shame of shames, we had pizza tonight. As heathen hubby said - 'On the first day of Lent? That's not very good.' Methinks he needs to check the definition of non-believer in the dictionary. Lent isn't like some alternative to Weight Watchers, or AA, handy and all that it is, what with its last hurrah on Pancake Tuesday and its 40 day plan...

But, I was just tooooooooo tired to get off the sofa and cook.

So, I'm sitting here, drinking some beer, eating some yummy dark chocolate and SWEARING I'll start again with my Lenten cause, tomorrow.

As long as I get a good nights sleep, that is. Otherwise anything could happen.

Lent 0 - Domestic Oubliette 1

I spent the afternoon snoozing on the sofa. Is that bad? I told the kids not to disturb me, so as a consequence they woke me up every five minutes.

Is it a good thing to doze while your children potter about? I must say I always think of Uiscebots story of burning the house down when he was a young chap anytime I take a little 'Mammy Break'. But hey, look how well Uisce turned out. I've probably not got much to worry about, when you think about it...really..

I have the sniffles you see. And I didn't sleep too well last night. And I've been out every second night for the past week. My poor delicate constitution can only take so much. A little sleep was all that stood between me and a 'leave the nine year old in charge of his little brother and sister and jumping on a flight to somewhere warm' tabloid storm.

And, shame of shames, we had pizza tonight. As heathen hubby said - 'On the first day of Lent? That's not very good.' Methinks he needs to check the definition of non-believer in the dictionary. Lent isn't like some alternative to Weight Watchers, or AA, handy and all that it is, what with its last hurrah on Pancake Tuesday and its 40 day plan...

But, I was just tooooooooo tired to get off the sofa and cook.

So, I'm sitting here, drinking some beer, eating some yummy dark chocolate and SWEARING I'll start again with my Lenten cause, tomorrow.

As long as I get a good nights sleep, that is. Otherwise anything could happen.

Poetry Diva's Tonight!

The Poetry Diva's are back tonight - at the Glór sessions, downstairs in the International.

Problematically, I am reading my 'brilliant' poetry with two actual fantastic poets.

I am having a crisis of confidence. Its not attractive, nor pretty.

And just in case you're wondering, this is a blatant attempt to get you all to leave comments telling me how AMAZING I am at de pomes.

Poetry Diva's Tonight!

The Poetry Diva's are back tonight - at the Glór sessions, downstairs in the International.

Problematically, I am reading my 'brilliant' poetry with two actual fantastic poets.

I am having a crisis of confidence. Its not attractive, nor pretty.

And just in case you're wondering, this is a blatant attempt to get you all to leave comments telling me how AMAZING I am at de pomes.

Just call me Farmer Oub

Oh my God, oh my God, am soooooooooooooooooooooooo excited!!! Yay! oooh!

While the dotted line has as yet to be signed, I can confirm, that by Sunday, I should be the proud renter of an Allotment!!!!

Where I was pretty hopeful last post, I have now had the indepth conversation with the bloke who owns the field, and we are Go! Go! Go! (When I say 'conversation' it was mainly me speaking gibberish and him trying hard to isolate anything sensible he could reply to.)

OMG - Now I feel under pressure - it's already mid-February, I gotta get planting!!!!!

What shall I grow? Will I manage all the digging or will Mr Oubliette be forced, against his sedentary will to join the dig for victory? Will I hate it after two minutes? Am I quite ridiculous to be taking this on with my arthritic joints? Or will the joy of it lift my beleaguered spirits? Will all the wholesome outdoorsiness of it bring a glow back to my checks and help shift a few pudgy pounds from my comfortable frame?

Will I be eating tomato chutney till I'm more tomato than human? Will friends and acquaintance run from me, fearing a 'gift' of yet more misshapen mottled veg?

Oh, the possibilities!!

Just call me Farmer Oub

Oh my God, oh my God, am soooooooooooooooooooooooo excited!!! Yay! oooh!

While the dotted line has as yet to be signed, I can confirm, that by Sunday, I should be the proud renter of an Allotment!!!!

Where I was pretty hopeful last post, I have now had the indepth conversation with the bloke who owns the field, and we are Go! Go! Go! (When I say 'conversation' it was mainly me speaking gibberish and him trying hard to isolate anything sensible he could reply to.)

OMG - Now I feel under pressure - it's already mid-February, I gotta get planting!!!!!

What shall I grow? Will I manage all the digging or will Mr Oubliette be forced, against his sedentary will to join the dig for victory? Will I hate it after two minutes? Am I quite ridiculous to be taking this on with my arthritic joints? Or will the joy of it lift my beleaguered spirits? Will all the wholesome outdoorsiness of it bring a glow back to my checks and help shift a few pudgy pounds from my comfortable frame?

Will I be eating tomato chutney till I'm more tomato than human? Will friends and acquaintance run from me, fearing a 'gift' of yet more misshapen mottled veg?

Oh, the possibilities!!

See it here first!

Apparently Steven Spielberg was given a film camera as a kid. Now he is a very, very rich man.

My children were given the Animatazz animation software thingy (google it) from Santa this year. We are very hopeful that the below YouTube clip is the very first step on their path to greatness (and immense riches.)

Make sure you look for the sophisticated deep subtext of this piece...

See it here first!

Apparently Steven Spielberg was given a film camera as a kid. Now he is a very, very rich man.

My children were given the Animatazz animation software thingy (google it) from Santa this year. We are very hopeful that the below YouTube clip is the very first step on their path to greatness (and immense riches.)

Make sure you look for the sophisticated deep subtext of this piece...

Allotted

I am like, so excited! I actually couldn't sleep last night.

What has brought on this Christmas Eve stylee madness??

I got an email yesterday evening. From a guy who rents allotments.


I. May. Be. Able. To. Rent. One.



ARGJF?Ohkdkweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Waving arms and guttural noises ala Animal from the Muppets!

I'm just so excited.

I may have mentioned that.

I am not yet guaranteed one of these parcels of muck. I have to talk to the guy and see if it's what I'm after etc, etc...

But I was up till 2am researching miniature sheds - (more expensive then you'd think). And my head was full of potatoes (no change there says everyone) and cabbage and mange touts...

My teenaged self would be mortified. Practically wetting my pants with excitement over a veggie patch. Teenaged Domestic Oub is cringing in the corner - while applying an extra layer of eyeliner and listening to The Cure.

You know. I suspect 20s Domestic Oub would be a little embarrassed too. Lounging drunkenly in the snug, Guinness in hand, shaking her head sadly - 'I'll never be that uncool when I'm old' she says to herself.

But you know - that has got to be one of the advantaged of nearing forty, not really giving a damn any longer.

Hurray for Sprouts! And old age!





oh jeez, I'm nearly forty....

Allotted

I am like, so excited! I actually couldn't sleep last night.

What has brought on this Christmas Eve stylee madness??

I got an email yesterday evening. From a guy who rents allotments.


I. May. Be. Able. To. Rent. One.



ARGJF?Ohkdkweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Waving arms and guttural noises ala Animal from the Muppets!

I'm just so excited.

I may have mentioned that.

I am not yet guaranteed one of these parcels of muck. I have to talk to the guy and see if it's what I'm after etc, etc...

But I was up till 2am researching miniature sheds - (more expensive then you'd think). And my head was full of potatoes (no change there says everyone) and cabbage and mange touts...

My teenaged self would be mortified. Practically wetting my pants with excitement over a veggie patch. Teenaged Domestic Oub is cringing in the corner - while applying an extra layer of eyeliner and listening to The Cure.

You know. I suspect 20s Domestic Oub would be a little embarrassed too. Lounging drunkenly in the snug, Guinness in hand, shaking her head sadly - 'I'll never be that uncool when I'm old' she says to herself.

But you know - that has got to be one of the advantaged of nearing forty, not really giving a damn any longer.

Hurray for Sprouts! And old age!





oh jeez, I'm nearly forty....

Mass Hysteria

No one likes going to Mass on Sundays - its dull. There, I've said it. I'll sit here and wait for the Cock to crow. (I just had to google that reference, to make sure it was a Cock that crowed and not some other bird. I think there are few things as terrifying as innocently typing 'cock' into google...)

But we go. We're a pragmatic family. The kids whinge and the confirmed heathen husband looks for any excuse not to go. He got lucky yesterday, Baby Oub woke up and seemed rather not her usual rambunctious self. They got a pass to stay at home.



But recently, he hasn't been so quick to look to stay at home in his holey pyjamas... because we discovered something... There is a lovely parish centre just beside our church. And they have a little cafe inside. The homemade scones they sell there are the best I've ever eaten. AND.... They are free on Sundays! Oh yes. They don't actually make you prove you've just emerged from Mass to take advantage of the delicious fare, but we do have some morals...

There is one other high point to Mass attendance in our locale. It is the priest who says the 12.15 mass. It used to be The Lovely Fr Joe. A very interesting man. You could listen to a sermon from him and not want to a) gnaw your leg off from boredom b) throw rotten fruit in disgust at the horrific recent history of the Catholic Church in Ireland. But The Lovely Fr Joe got moved on. Like a holy vagrant he's been booted off to the next parish. I think. Anyway, he may as well be departed to his blessed eternal reward for all the differences to us. Because we've been left with Fr Tenuous. Or Fr Trendy Tenuous Pop Culture Reference, to give him his full name.

I had high hopes for him. When he took over from The Lovely Fr Joe, he brought a bit of moon rock with him for his sermon. 'Hmm, I though. Well done for making an effort, this could be interesting.' Sadly I cannot tell you what this sermon was about as roughly thirty seconds later I was in a coma.

Mass Dodging God Doubter Mr Oubliette had his first experience with Fr Tenuous at the 5.30 Christmas Eve mass. Mr Oub looked at me perplexed as Fr Tenuous held up a talking Homer Simpson doll to the mike. The priest made Homer talk, and then tenuously parlayed the 'loving' relationship between Marge and Homer into some sort of sermon about family, or something. I'm not sure as I struggled to remain conscious for as long as I could, but the inevitable happened soon enough.

It was with great amusement that I listened to the start of his sermon a few weeks ago when he mentioned going to the movie to see Avatar. The relationship that this had to his comment on the gospel is lost to me at this stage, but I did have fun rushing home to tell my Bound for Hell for his Disbelieving Ways husband.

I was ready for him this week. I sat forward - what would be our 'in' to the word of God this week??? Of course, as hubbie was at home minding the above mentioned sick baby he missed this weeks Tenuous pop culture reference... I made him guess...

Want to know?

'The Wire' - yes, that gritty, violent cop show. I think I snorted as the words escaped his mouth. It was like - 'they are foul mouthed in 'The Wire', but Gods words are nice...'



I feel a little mean now, being all sneary about this well meaning man of God. Sure, isn't he only doing his best? In fact it's not very Christian of me, is it?

Oh well. I guess I'll be keeping Mr Oubliette company for eternity after all...

Mass Hysteria

No one likes going to Mass on Sundays - its dull. There, I've said it. I'll sit here and wait for the Cock to crow. (I just had to google that reference, to make sure it was a Cock that crowed and not some other bird. I think there are few things as terrifying as innocently typing 'cock' into google...)

But we go. We're a pragmatic family. The kids whinge and the confirmed heathen husband looks for any excuse not to go. He got lucky yesterday, Baby Oub woke up and seemed rather not her usual rambunctious self. They got a pass to stay at home.



But recently, he hasn't been so quick to look to stay at home in his holey pyjamas... because we discovered something... There is a lovely parish centre just beside our church. And they have a little cafe inside. The homemade scones they sell there are the best I've ever eaten. AND.... They are free on Sundays! Oh yes. They don't actually make you prove you've just emerged from Mass to take advantage of the delicious fare, but we do have some morals...

There is one other high point to Mass attendance in our locale. It is the priest who says the 12.15 mass. It used to be The Lovely Fr Joe. A very interesting man. You could listen to a sermon from him and not want to a) gnaw your leg off from boredom b) throw rotten fruit in disgust at the horrific recent history of the Catholic Church in Ireland. But The Lovely Fr Joe got moved on. Like a holy vagrant he's been booted off to the next parish. I think. Anyway, he may as well be departed to his blessed eternal reward for all the differences to us. Because we've been left with Fr Tenuous. Or Fr Trendy Tenuous Pop Culture Reference, to give him his full name.

I had high hopes for him. When he took over from The Lovely Fr Joe, he brought a bit of moon rock with him for his sermon. 'Hmm, I though. Well done for making an effort, this could be interesting.' Sadly I cannot tell you what this sermon was about as roughly thirty seconds later I was in a coma.

Mass Dodging God Doubter Mr Oubliette had his first experience with Fr Tenuous at the 5.30 Christmas Eve mass. Mr Oub looked at me perplexed as Fr Tenuous held up a talking Homer Simpson doll to the mike. The priest made Homer talk, and then tenuously parlayed the 'loving' relationship between Marge and Homer into some sort of sermon about family, or something. I'm not sure as I struggled to remain conscious for as long as I could, but the inevitable happened soon enough.

It was with great amusement that I listened to the start of his sermon a few weeks ago when he mentioned going to the movie to see Avatar. The relationship that this had to his comment on the gospel is lost to me at this stage, but I did have fun rushing home to tell my Bound for Hell for his Disbelieving Ways husband.

I was ready for him this week. I sat forward - what would be our 'in' to the word of God this week??? Of course, as hubbie was at home minding the above mentioned sick baby he missed this weeks Tenuous pop culture reference... I made him guess...

Want to know?

'The Wire' - yes, that gritty, violent cop show. I think I snorted as the words escaped his mouth. It was like - 'they are foul mouthed in 'The Wire', but Gods words are nice...'



I feel a little mean now, being all sneary about this well meaning man of God. Sure, isn't he only doing his best? In fact it's not very Christian of me, is it?

Oh well. I guess I'll be keeping Mr Oubliette company for eternity after all...