International Lose Your Keys Day?

So, it wasn't just Uiscebot who lost his keys this morning. Nope, a similar drama was unfolding a few miles away in sunny (aka wet and murky) Beech Grove. All the kids ready, we might just have been leaving in time to get to school before the bell for once, but where the bloody hell were my keys?? I never lose them. Frantic calls to hubby - which is the usual waste of time as he obviously has a religious belief banning him from answering his mobile, especially when his desperate wife rings multiple times.

On a normal morning I wouldn't be too concerned with missing keys - my kids are so phenomenally brilliant that they can afford to miss a little bit of school. But no, of course this morning eldest child had a school trip to the National Gallery.

I rang a cab. I couldn't believe I was going to have to get a taxi to get the kids to school. But of course, the magic of abandoning the search worked and the keys started yelling at me from the bottom of a little used bag. Teasing mo fo's!!!!

Quick call to cancel the cab (as I am such a nice person.) Fecked the kids in the car. Go! Go! Go! We're ten minutes late... Hurl the kids into school. I then spent 50 minutes sitting outside the school waiting to see if the bus would turn up or if poor child had missed his trip. Why did I wait? Couldn't I have just gone in and found out? I think I was so wound up by the horror that I would have been like a crazy woman.

For I am a crazy woman.

The end.

Ps When child got home from trip to the National Gallery all he could do was giggle about the pictures of naked people. Sigh.

International Lose Your Keys Day?

So, it wasn't just Uiscebot who lost his keys this morning. Nope, a similar drama was unfolding a few miles away in sunny (aka wet and murky) Beech Grove. All the kids ready, we might just have been leaving in time to get to school before the bell for once, but where the bloody hell were my keys?? I never lose them. Frantic calls to hubby - which is the usual waste of time as he obviously has a religious belief banning him from answering his mobile, especially when his desperate wife rings multiple times.

On a normal morning I wouldn't be too concerned with missing keys - my kids are so phenomenally brilliant that they can afford to miss a little bit of school. But no, of course this morning eldest child had a school trip to the National Gallery.

I rang a cab. I couldn't believe I was going to have to get a taxi to get the kids to school. But of course, the magic of abandoning the search worked and the keys started yelling at me from the bottom of a little used bag. Teasing mo fo's!!!!

Quick call to cancel the cab (as I am such a nice person.) Fecked the kids in the car. Go! Go! Go! We're ten minutes late... Hurl the kids into school. I then spent 50 minutes sitting outside the school waiting to see if the bus would turn up or if poor child had missed his trip. Why did I wait? Couldn't I have just gone in and found out? I think I was so wound up by the horror that I would have been like a crazy woman.

For I am a crazy woman.

The end.

Ps When child got home from trip to the National Gallery all he could do was giggle about the pictures of naked people. Sigh.

Mobsters

I asked my eight year old yesterday how he found the work at school (I'm trying to work out whether he is a misunderstood genius or a total chancer.) He said..

"I listen to it, and bada bing, I remember it."

Total chancer then...

Ah, they've taken my youth, my looks, my slimline waistline, but at least they're good for a laugh once in a while.

Mobsters

I asked my eight year old yesterday how he found the work at school (I'm trying to work out whether he is a misunderstood genius or a total chancer.) He said..

"I listen to it, and bada bing, I remember it."

Total chancer then...

Ah, they've taken my youth, my looks, my slimline waistline, but at least they're good for a laugh once in a while.

Obamamania!

Kids enjoyed the inauguration. Well, older son did, but half way through younger son started doing half cartwheels around the living room floor. And I don't think they were his expression of his joy at this historical watershed moment. Just bored I guess. When you're six there's nothing revolutionary about what Obama had to say - of course he's going to do his best. Of course he's going to do the right thing. Isn't that how life works?



Now a poem to mark the occasion...

Feelings and Thoughts On the Occasion of Barack Obama Becoming the 44th President of the United States of American.

Stumbled Oath.
Hopefully the only
slip up
of his reign.

Obamamania!

Kids enjoyed the inauguration. Well, older son did, but half way through younger son started doing half cartwheels around the living room floor. And I don't think they were his expression of his joy at this historical watershed moment. Just bored I guess. When you're six there's nothing revolutionary about what Obama had to say - of course he's going to do his best. Of course he's going to do the right thing. Isn't that how life works?



Now a poem to mark the occasion...

Feelings and Thoughts On the Occasion of Barack Obama Becoming the 44th President of the United States of American.

Stumbled Oath.
Hopefully the only
slip up
of his reign.

Yes we can...I think.

As the great Homer Simpson said, "Kids are great. You can teach them to hate what you hate and, with the Internet and all, they practically raise themselves."



I like to live these words, and its good sometimes to see them bear fruit. I was trying to explain the concept of the suspension of habeas corpus, in relation specifically to Guantanamo Bay, to the boys (ages 6 and 8), while driving them to school the other morning. I wasn't sure if I was getting the subtleties of it across. But I knew I had succeeded when younger son asked if they would exile George Bush once Obama came to power. I sighed, and said, 'Son, you have the right idea, and in many parts of the world they would, but sadly, no. He'll just go back to his ranch.'

They seemed a little disappointed.

Next week we start on the much anticipated lecture series for kiddies entitled 'Why Israel is a great big smelly head.'

Anyway, we'll all sit down tomorrow afternoon and watch the inauguration. Hopefully in the future, when they're all growed up, they'll remember fondly this historic time. Maybe the world they grow up in will be a safer fairer place.



Sure!

Yes we can...I think.

As the great Homer Simpson said, "Kids are great. You can teach them to hate what you hate and, with the Internet and all, they practically raise themselves."



I like to live these words, and its good sometimes to see them bear fruit. I was trying to explain the concept of the suspension of habeas corpus, in relation specifically to Guantanamo Bay, to the boys (ages 6 and 8), while driving them to school the other morning. I wasn't sure if I was getting the subtleties of it across. But I knew I had succeeded when younger son asked if they would exile George Bush once Obama came to power. I sighed, and said, 'Son, you have the right idea, and in many parts of the world they would, but sadly, no. He'll just go back to his ranch.'

They seemed a little disappointed.

Next week we start on the much anticipated lecture series for kiddies entitled 'Why Israel is a great big smelly head.'

Anyway, we'll all sit down tomorrow afternoon and watch the inauguration. Hopefully in the future, when they're all growed up, they'll remember fondly this historic time. Maybe the world they grow up in will be a safer fairer place.



Sure!

Sore fingers or no, Domestic Oubliette is back!! Hang on to your hats...

It was the overwhelming clamour for my return that has coaxed me back to the keyboard. The voices cried in the binary wilderness. A gossamer guttural groan, pinged from router to router, desperate for my wisdom. It was a deafening, rushing, clawing, consuming unconditional roar!

Return!

Return!

RETURN!


Ahem.

So, right.

Like, house is moved. Christmas was survived. And eventually, broadband was restored. But I must say, I didn't know what to write. I obviously have very high standards for my blog entries. Each one deserves a Nobel-Pulitzer-Booker prize (A NoPuBoo I shall call it...)

I shared my dilemma with hubbie. He suggested I run a Retail Dead Pool. Sounded like fun (I call Harvey Normans!) but a little tenuous for a literary blog like this one ('Literary? Wha'? When?' asks entire readership of this blog.) So, I continued to ponder what to write about. At least it gave my fingers time to heal. (Anyone spot me looking like a 3 year old with a fat crayon on Saturday at group?)

So anyway. There I was this morning pottering about The Mill shopping centre in Clondalkin. I had sampled the delights of Dunne's cafe - Time Piece - really a culinary delight. When delight is a special code word for 'Only went there as its the only place to eat in the shopping centre, no McDonalds does not count, it is outside of the building, and while the sandwich and cup of tea were palatable, quite frankly it has the atmosphere of a smelly odd sock'.


Baby had spent the time staring at an odd old bloke, while I ate and read a mag. I felt the need to talk to her every now and then so the crazy old guy didn't think I was a neglectful parent. Cause that's important. Just in case in there, inbetween channeling the aliens trying to make contact and the voices telling him to kill us all, he might have thought 'Goodness, that mother should be paying more attention to her delightful little girl. Where is social services number?'

Fed and watered we made our way into Book Station, the book shop. Eason, Waterstones don't loose too much sleep over them... but what Book Station does have, is the odd little gem. Hubbie found The Know It All - AJ Jacobs here... It is one of the most interesting and entertaining books I've ever read.

So, I browsed the shelves. There were a couple of Colm McCanns, but I had them already. Then I spotted the magic little circle sticker. There on the cover of 'The Promise of Happiness' by Justin Cartwright was the (drum roll please) yes, the Richard and Judy Book Club recommendation sticker!! No, don't all scoff at once.

It all started a year or so ago.

For some reason I was watching telly at 5 in the afternoon - typically busy busy time in our chaotic household where I am usually beating the children for not doing their homework fast enough and wondering how long is it since I fed them waffles for their dinner and is it too soon to feed them to them again.

Perhaps I'd locked them in their rooms.

But for whatever the reason the telly was on and I was watching. There were Punch and Judy talking books on their plush pastel couch. I will even listen to Ryan Tubridy if he is talking books, so I left the programme on. They were reviewing a book called 'The Girls' by Lori Lansen. Its a fun tale of a pair of craniopagus twins. When I saw the book in Chapters bookshop, a few months later, I picked it up, bought it. Read it. Really, really enjoyed it.

Over Christmas I gave my aunt another book with the sticker, she loved it. Gave it to me to read. I loved it.

Spotting a pattern?

Its hard to respect these tv book clubs. There is something objectionable about vacuous tv idiots imposing their opinions about what we, the ignorant great unwashed should read. Oprah being the originator and chief culprit in this case. But yet, yet, not a dud yet from R&J. (And as a side note, the author Jonathan Frazens book, The Corrections, which he 'famously' refused Oprah permission to include in her book club - is a wonderful read too!)

Back to sunny Clondalkin...

The book, as is Book Stations way, was only 4 euro. I bought it immediately. Its getting late now, but I think I'll dip into it tonight before I go to sleep. I'm a little excited by the prospect. And a little nervous. What if it disappoints? What if Richard and Judy's magic touch is misjudged?

Its enough to make one quiver.

Goodnight.

Sore fingers or no, Domestic Oubliette is back!! Hang on to your hats...

It was the overwhelming clamour for my return that has coaxed me back to the keyboard. The voices cried in the binary wilderness. A gossamer guttural groan, pinged from router to router, desperate for my wisdom. It was a deafening, rushing, clawing, consuming unconditional roar!

Return!

Return!

RETURN!


Ahem.

So, right.

Like, house is moved. Christmas was survived. And eventually, broadband was restored. But I must say, I didn't know what to write. I obviously have very high standards for my blog entries. Each one deserves a Nobel-Pulitzer-Booker prize (A NoPuBoo I shall call it...)

I shared my dilemma with hubbie. He suggested I run a Retail Dead Pool. Sounded like fun (I call Harvey Normans!) but a little tenuous for a literary blog like this one ('Literary? Wha'? When?' asks entire readership of this blog.) So, I continued to ponder what to write about. At least it gave my fingers time to heal. (Anyone spot me looking like a 3 year old with a fat crayon on Saturday at group?)

So anyway. There I was this morning pottering about The Mill shopping centre in Clondalkin. I had sampled the delights of Dunne's cafe - Time Piece - really a culinary delight. When delight is a special code word for 'Only went there as its the only place to eat in the shopping centre, no McDonalds does not count, it is outside of the building, and while the sandwich and cup of tea were palatable, quite frankly it has the atmosphere of a smelly odd sock'.


Baby had spent the time staring at an odd old bloke, while I ate and read a mag. I felt the need to talk to her every now and then so the crazy old guy didn't think I was a neglectful parent. Cause that's important. Just in case in there, inbetween channeling the aliens trying to make contact and the voices telling him to kill us all, he might have thought 'Goodness, that mother should be paying more attention to her delightful little girl. Where is social services number?'

Fed and watered we made our way into Book Station, the book shop. Eason, Waterstones don't loose too much sleep over them... but what Book Station does have, is the odd little gem. Hubbie found The Know It All - AJ Jacobs here... It is one of the most interesting and entertaining books I've ever read.

So, I browsed the shelves. There were a couple of Colm McCanns, but I had them already. Then I spotted the magic little circle sticker. There on the cover of 'The Promise of Happiness' by Justin Cartwright was the (drum roll please) yes, the Richard and Judy Book Club recommendation sticker!! No, don't all scoff at once.

It all started a year or so ago.

For some reason I was watching telly at 5 in the afternoon - typically busy busy time in our chaotic household where I am usually beating the children for not doing their homework fast enough and wondering how long is it since I fed them waffles for their dinner and is it too soon to feed them to them again.

Perhaps I'd locked them in their rooms.

But for whatever the reason the telly was on and I was watching. There were Punch and Judy talking books on their plush pastel couch. I will even listen to Ryan Tubridy if he is talking books, so I left the programme on. They were reviewing a book called 'The Girls' by Lori Lansen. Its a fun tale of a pair of craniopagus twins. When I saw the book in Chapters bookshop, a few months later, I picked it up, bought it. Read it. Really, really enjoyed it.

Over Christmas I gave my aunt another book with the sticker, she loved it. Gave it to me to read. I loved it.

Spotting a pattern?

Its hard to respect these tv book clubs. There is something objectionable about vacuous tv idiots imposing their opinions about what we, the ignorant great unwashed should read. Oprah being the originator and chief culprit in this case. But yet, yet, not a dud yet from R&J. (And as a side note, the author Jonathan Frazens book, The Corrections, which he 'famously' refused Oprah permission to include in her book club - is a wonderful read too!)

Back to sunny Clondalkin...

The book, as is Book Stations way, was only 4 euro. I bought it immediately. Its getting late now, but I think I'll dip into it tonight before I go to sleep. I'm a little excited by the prospect. And a little nervous. What if it disappoints? What if Richard and Judy's magic touch is misjudged?

Its enough to make one quiver.

Goodnight.