What goes where

I must warn you that I hold (well I don't hold it all the time, in fact, can't recall exactly where it is this minute, but you catch my drift) an honours degree in biochemistry, during part of which I studied metabolism, metamorphosis, the krebs cycle, lots of other types of bikes and many of the myths and mysteries of the body (and possibly developed my slight distaste for all things factual), so some of the following might be a bit technical for you to digest... but I will try to explain.

I have been thinking about this growing new people business, and realising that the acrobat with the hilarious sense of humour and timing who is responsible for the jellyish actions of my belly (and merciless prodding of my kidney) in recent days has been constructed from a putting together of all the things I've been eating over the past nine months. So, what has gone where?

Well - it's obvious that tortilla chips are used to fashion the inner curve of the nostrils, apple drops most likely make the eyes, and marshmallows are used for that smoothness found in baby skin. Hot cross buns are needed for the rib cage as well as the buns, brocolli gives the brain it's texture, toast, I need hardly tell you, goes towards the toes. Bananas are found useful in making the forehead. Islets of Langerhorns require anything from Cork, be it Barry's tea or anything else grown locally. Oranges and strawberrys are mixed to make the pink for the lips. And crustaceans are recommended to be avoided during this time as they will encourage shelfishness, not good when you're hoping for a decent old folks home. I have, of course, been careful to eat plenty of meringue to give the child the best possible bone structure, as well as loads of sausages which are re-used in making enough intestines to stretch around the moon three times, (not sure that this will ever be an applicable skill, but good to know the potential will be there)

Is there anything crucial that I'm missing from my diet that I need to ensure and get in there to put towards the newly designed person - while there's still time? Feel free to advise...

NanU's excessive bus

Having no energy to buy a fresh ticket for the bus I'm trying to wangle my way on with an old stub - one from yonks ago about the very opposite of excess... hope you.... er... enjoy?!

Better poems as always here...

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Jars inside her head

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Looks like a clothes hanger,

A fashion drapes below her bored

Face, shiny as a hook

Afraid of food - baked grass, pigs ass

The mood, the look of it, the thought of eating jars inside her head

And though she knows by logic – it’s either eat the dead

Plants and animals – beat or join em

It’s so messy, dirty, cruel

She sees the working casual jaws of those around

They’re like machines for mess,

Blunt tools keep chomping on the detritus bought in shops

Or restaurants

She can’t imagine taking in

And carrying found things in her gut

Letting slip down her throat

Into her mouth

Past her teeth

and

Further on

That stuff

(am stuffing myself with easter eggs as I post this by the way for anyone concerned about life imitating art imitating life or anything)

Time Saving Tips for Busy Livers

1. Sleep on your side, your left hand side if you have one. Do not turn during the night. This will ensure that the attractive phenomenon of sleep drool will only happen in one direction - therefore leaving you with just one side of your face to rinse off before you appear before your public. It will also incidentally help with your liver function, and reduce the chances of heartburn weirdly - since we're all asymmetric, and the way all the tubes line up sleeping on your left helps you avoid fluid retention etc etc as well - the things you learn.

2. Leave curtains open all the time.

3. Shower in your underwear, then run to get dry - this also helps build up fitness levels and tolerance to embarrassment. (also known as embarrassment tolerance)

4. Memorize the contents of your GPS system - this will save you having to charge it up and plug it in.

5. Keep big wads of cash sellotaped all over your body - this will help you avoid tiresome queues at ATMs, help you bribe your way to the top of the nightclub and chipper queue and will speed up all sorts of transactions in theory.

6. Only read the most helpful blogs and never comment on them.

Lazing on a sunny afternoon

But what does it mean? I always thought I was doing ok with this self expression stuff, having mastered the rudiments of the English language quite a few years back (not meaning to boast, but I did win a highly commended prize in a newspaper competition for a short story about a gorilla at the age of 6)... however it turns out I don't know the difference between the Afternoon and the Evening.

I see Afternoon as 12.00 midday to about 1pm - it's kind of like after eight chocolates with me, that get consumed as quickly as possibly, but I will easily refer to anything that happens after 1pm as something to be regarded as taking place in the Evening.

Is this why I go to bed so early? As I start my evening's so early that I'm bound to run out sooner than most? What could be the explanation for this ruthless efficiency that I seem to display in getting through the Afternoon so fast? Or could I just be calling it wrong? and if so could I be wrong in other areas...? Surely not.

Le weekend

We started off with very few plans for the weekend, - go to a hotel, not too far away, chill out and read books.

We booked to go to Dungarvan, cos it's near the gaeltacht, and we wanted to connect with our roots, "do something Iiirish" etc, turned out there was a big mad food festival on.... Lucky ducks, us.

We went to a variety concert on the first evening in Sean Phobhail - so called cos it's the oldest parish in the country - even older than wherever St Patrick went first. There was everything from 20 Piano accordians, to excerpts from Angela's ashes, to the local version of Stephen James Smith doin poems on Waterford hurling with every bit as much passion, then lovely girls doing Irish dancing. The hero of the night was a high cheek boned crooner who kept the mic stuck to his chin in memory of times when mics had to be stuck to your chin, and sang songs of loss and longing -

the climax being a song called Never grow old... which he bullied everyone (including those who had already grown old) to join in and sing along with... click here for the full effect. but fast forward a bit - t

here's talking at the start...

Saturday we saw a taispeánteas cócaireachta (cooking demo) in the same village hall, man cooks four different types of fish, twas just like tv, but bilingual, and with smells and free food at the end. Naoise O Cathaoisaigh was an entertaining host.

We then called out to Joan Clancy, a lovely woman (and another part of the jigsaw that seems to indicate that all Joan's are lovely). She took us on a tour of her eclectic art gallery - well worth a visit if you ever manage to be in the area, for her warm introductions to everything alone.

Then back to D(F)ungarvan for a bit of a look at another art gallery, where it was advertised you could paint your own watercolor - twas all taken over by kids though (darn kids!!), so we didn't get a look in. After that it was time to see the Watercats, playing their first gig of the festival. I managed to chat to Vicky for a little bit before they started up, but they were having technical challenges and sorting it out like mad things, so we let them worry about that and just found ourselves some seats in the crowded beer garden. It was mad, they were exactly as they are on the blog, Vicky and the Ron, and they exude a great confidence and sense of fun.

It was really lovely to hear a few of the songs that I'd know well from the album, and I got to practice again my legendary photography skills - (the enigmatic Ron faces away from the camera).

We also managed to squeeze in some swimming, walking, ice-cream eating, reading, squeezing, farmers marketing, smelling nice smells, stopping at book shops - so not a bad old weekend for one we barely planned at all.

Bursting on the Bus

NanU's task this week was to write about bursting, exploding, restarting,getting it in gear, waking up, all in keeping with Spring time and the lively time of year that we find ourselves in...

She had me at "bursting"

I know I'm mad early too, but y'see I'm officially going on my holidays this weekend, 2 nights escape where hubby and I plan to pamper ourselves almost to weakness, before our lives get taken over by pampers and the like...

This following poem formed part of the 4 or 5 that I shakily read out at my first ever ever poetry reading... written in response to a 10 year old ad campaign "Sprite - obey your thirst" - It's funny that I've a chance to put it out here, as I did remember it for some reason quite recently... I cannot pass a chance to use a loo nowadays, by the way, loos are like my new bookshops...

Anyway - for proper springy and inspiring poems you can go over here

For a completely couth-less interpretation, read on - no pictorial representation will be made available to accompany this poem

Obey Your Bladder

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Sitting on a floor, that is pelvic in variety -

Hollow, Elastic, a muscular deity,

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Exploding Bladders are on the rise,

Away from bones in high womb skies.

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Your Thirst, by contrast, no more than a kid,

Obey Your Bladder! You’ll be glad you did.

More mysteries of life

Life with a big L - the beginnings of life, the wonders of the universe... here are some questions to which I need urgent answers.

1. How deep is my belly button?

I have been expanding at an alarming rate in recent times and must be at least twice my normal depth from belly to spine, and yet - the end of the belly button has still not been sighted. I'm beginning to wonder whether it in fact it might just run all the way through, a belly tunnel, running perpendicular to the alimentary canal... I mean I've never tried to shine a torch through it, so I can't confirm it for definite, but perhaps I will some day soon.

2. Who should I believe on Parenting?

Ooooonagh Montague says in the paper at the weekend that "Nobody tells you how boring motherhood can be" J Lo says in a magazine in the local, and now famous, car fixing up establishment that parenting is her biggest and most satisfying role to date. Daniel Gilbert in Stumbling on Happiness says that people with kids are actually less happy than those without, but they have very effective self brainwashing methods that allow them to convince themselves that it's the best thing that ever happened.

3. Will I ever be tidy again?

This time of my life - the last few months, has been the only time that many many people have said to me "You're very tidy" - if you saw my desk, my room, my hair on non work days, my car, you would realise that they are not referring to my skills in organising items into well defined places, no - they're referring to the bump, which is tidy, and loudly complimented as such - I wonder if they'd have said anything if it was untidy? Your bump needs a bit of an overhaul - the ribs could do with stacking more tidily and why don't you clear out the belly button...

4. What would MacGuyver do?

I feel like preparing for sleep is a MacGuyver-esque exercise now, with all the pillows (and yes various cushions) that need to come together in the perfect alignment for comfort to be even a remote possibility.

Anyway - wise and brilliant blog readers, I know you'll have the answers between ye - feel free to add any additional questions too, and I'll do me best.

Bug's driving a crooked line

This week Bug is taking the wheel again, and this week her challenge was to write a poem starting with the line "I am a crooked line"

I must admit I cringed a tiny bit when I saw the task, feeling that I wouldn't do well, the crooked sixpence poem ringing loud in my head - but I dove in anyhoo - and below is the result - you'll find far crooked-er lines and better poems on the bus over here...

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The Line

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I am a crooked line

running through a life

making time

stretch or tumble

explosions of fine

delights or depths

of sadness defined

I follow my instinct

stumble on crimes

of passion or boredom

or closing of blinds

releasing the afternoon sun

from a kind

of duty to be there

weakened old shine

relieved to slink off

leaving grims to their grime

while I rise and I fall

or I slip to the side

life follows me, stupid

with wanting to mind

to live for one moment

feeling something divine

unaware it’ll keep -

keeping on with the line

that’ll never run straight

and gets home just in time

By the way, I wanted to apologise to recent drivers for my lack of letting them know I had bought a ticket - I noticed one week that Peter G did the same one week when he knew he wouldn't make it around to visit all the other passengers, and I felt I should do the same since I don't have the same time in blogland that I used to have... but anyway, there's my excuse - not notifying the driver makes me feel less guilty for not calling round to everyone - but I do still appreciate your comments and try to make it back for return visits to anyone who does call over...

Car Rant - a love letter to Nigel

I wrote a poem a couple of weeks back about feeling a bit "done" in car maintenance related situations, the event in question was tyre replacement where I was triumphantly sold 3 tyres, having been told by another local expert that I need 2. Anyway....

I have learned that if you find a special car mechanic, who you trust, and who gives you information, good service, efficiency and never leaves things unplugged in your car - you should probably stick with him, marry him if you can, or else move in next door.

Here is my experience with garages since moving south:

1. I booked my car for a service and pre NCT check.

Arrived with the car, talked through what was to be done - was told come back at 1pm, left them my mobile no in case there was any change in plan, arrived back at 1pm, and was told it was not ready, but I could wait - Oh joy! in a room with gloss-less magazines and a crappy heater. Was charged 76 euro - they didn't fix my wipers, couldn't figure it out, but thought the car should still pass the NCT, also didn't do a full service, and I only had to wait 45 mins later than the time they had promised.

Left in a huff.

2. Went to get the 2 tyres they had said I should get, was sold 3, as one was bald.

3. Failed NCT because of wipers.

4. Booked in with another garage - again asked for a full service (as I still needed one) and the wipers to be fixed. They called to say the car was ready, wipers weren't fully fixed, the receptionist who called me told me that she wasn't sure exactly what the story was but I could come pick up the car anyway. They said they needed a new part for the wipers and would call when they got it. The guy returning the car said he didn't know there was supposed to be a service, so they hadn't done a service - they'd do one next week.

5. Discovered the next day that the wipers were now not working AT ALL. They had somehow completely turned them off, where they had been sometimes going too often - now they were dead.

6. Dropped car back for the immediate problem of the wipers to be turned back on, which they did, along with a full service, still waiting for the part for the wipers to come in though - I was to ring them later in the week to see when they got it.

7. Power in the car was lower after the service, acceleration much slower.

8. Called the garage and left a voicemail, they called back (2 days later) to say they now had the part (once again Oh Joy!) and I could call in any time for the wiper to be fixed. I booked in with them to call in this morning.

9. Called in this morning - no part, the man there didn't know anything about it. I said to him about the acceleration and we opened the bonnet, and found another thing unplugged in the engine, that should've been plugged in. Then we got hold of the owner again on the phone (the man who had got the receptionist to ring me to tell me the part was there) and he told us that the part he had got was the wrong part. The part place is closed, they may or may not manage to get a part today and get the wipers fixed.

I'm worried that if I go back in to get the wipers fixed they will accidentally cut the brakes or something...

Nigel, my lovely Dublin mechanic, I will come back to you, I'm sorry I ever strayed, I'll never even look at another garage again if you'll only forgive me. Please say you'll take me back...

Drawing Cheats

I found another way to draw fancy schmancy things to wow ye all... so I thought I'd share

Sorry it came out kinda scary but....

Anyway - the site where you too can tell yourself you're a drawing genius is over here

Have loadsa fun folks!! I'll take my usual 10% when ye make gazillions.

Tuesday Night - a Review

I was watching a bit of soccer the other night, and the dog was asleep on her bean bag, and she was dreaming of something interesting and started whining to herself and jogging her paws, there were other people in the room, saying things relevant and not, about the dog and the soccer and schizslovenia, but they have their privacy, so I can't divulge any more about that, so instead I'll tell you more about the dog - earlier on in the evening, she was asleep and was lying down upside down on the bean bag - her tongue hanging out, and her big front paw in her mouth (not that one is bigger than the other - they're about the same, but they're both pretty big) and she was doing a great impression of a scary fake dog, but then I didn't have a camera on me, and couldn't take a picture for you - but here's an idea I've just had - I'm going to do a picture of it... renewing my love affair with "paint" since muse's task the other week.

and someone scored another goal, and the goalie spat on the ground, and the people in the room talked about the keeper, and whether he could do much and whether he should have been closed down, as if he was a chip shop.

Someone else came in with news of the world of next door, and the dog got up for a minute to welcome the new arrival and collapsed into another snooze on the floor this time. The other people continue talking, but they are allowed privacy, so I can't tell you much about what they said, well anything they were saying in fact.

The dog woke up again after awhile and brought a chewy bone that she wanted to play with, so I decided to publish the darned review - unfinished tho it might be, and I will update it further tomorrow if anything remarkable occurs. Maybe I'll even make something up if nothing happens... and maybe I won't.

Titus's Animal Bus

So Titus is driving this week and gave us a world of (or at least 8 of) the world's most fascinating creatures to choose from as our inspiration.

I went for the Archer fish, at Titus' suggestion - though I didn't manage another of my poems to dissuade on it, I found the creature very interesting having done a little research.

See here for a visual on this impressive hunter.

Then go here for more Animal poems

Then read on for my attempt

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Marksman

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Hard shelled dark crawlers

Spied from depths

A hunter gazing unseen

at all the scrabbling life

Unlikely victims firm in every foot

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A silver spear of underworld

Is aimed to hit home hard

Knock off a lurching walk

Invertebrate, confused, inverted now

falls into smoothened mirrors

and gobbled quick by sulky looking silk

a greedy jaw stuck out in gluttony

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The flashing fish performs

this trick and leaves

one more breath squeezed out

of air’s domain