Who's really impressed by black shoes anyway?

My black work type shiny shoes were dug out from under the bed last night for wearing today, the first time not wearing runners, pink crocs or slippers since maternity leave started... the reason? I wanted to impress my new classmates and teachers with my professional and tidy appearance, yes I returned to college today. In black shoes. And I slightly twisted my ankle.

Tomorrow's plan includes bringing baby danger cushions with me to class, as he has promised with his big puppy blue eyes that he will behave and let me absorb all the writing goodness with no interruptions. Anyway in return I have to promise to walk him around for 20 mins ahead of each session so that he'll get to sleep through it.

The stupid black shoes are going back under the bed, they don't even have a heel on them (as you'll know if you read watercats, I'm actually a giant in real life). Sneakers ahoy for the next little while.

Just as well it's only a 3 day course.

Egg Roulette

This week we find ourselves here at cushions land with a surfeit of eggs... Mr VC's brother called for a visit, and in celebration, Mr VC went out and bought eggs, a million eggs, well 15 for 2 euro, which isn't too bad, otherwise known as a bar gain around here (now you don't need to gain a bar in order for it to be called a bar gain - funny old world isn't it? Anyway, on with the gripping and dramatic tale)

As it turned out - we already had some eggs (SHOCK HORROR) in another packet hidden craftily at the back of the fridge - and of course - those being older eggs - they are due to be out of date sooner than the new ones. Stock rotation would say that you should use up the old eggs first, but we said "To HELL with stock rotation" and cooked up a few of the new eggs in quick succession...

My dilemma today - you'll probably have guessed - is that I now own one egg that will go off several days earlier than the other 12 or so that are still in the big box of eggs, but it is a mild irritant to say the least, to have 3 egg spaces in one box and only one egg in the other - so do you, kind readers, think it would be totally crazy to put the old egg in with the new? In order that I might throw out the old box and save some small semblance of sanity? trying of course to keep it somehow separate or label it - maybe with a packing sticker, so that I can recognise it on opening? or should I wait until an occasion naturally arises for use of a single egg and take out the old egg then? (a strategy that depends on me remembering the old egg - not easy when faced with a shiny big box of new eggs that practically sing to me every time I open the fridge)

or should I simply put the old egg in at random with the new eggs, and trust to fate? perhaps invest in a magnifying glass so that we can read the pink printed use by dates on the side of the eggs? Maybe I could just go now before any of them are out of date and have a big ol' tinned apocolypse fruit omelet? Either way, and no matter what gets decided - this has probably been the worst possible use of the free time allotted to me by baby cushions first long day time nap in a few weeks, and if you've read this far... well you could've possibly done more with the time too. Shame on us.

Sack the TV, French radio rules!!

So I know I pledged once many years ago to quit the tv, because of a profusion of reading matter... well it didn't last too long. This time the motivation has changed - because of the day being already shortened by nappy trips, clothing changes, feedings, bouncings, playings etc, we figure the last thing we need is to lose any more half hours to Dr Phil, Judge Judy or even the beloved Fair City.

The telly has been turned off since Saturday night last, and I honestly think this time we may keep it off. We have more time in our days, get tired less early, and I've discovered the most amazing radio station over the interweb - it's called Fip, it's French - sometimes I haven't a clue what they're on about, but last night they played all of "The End" (the whole lot of it) plus some Reggae and some jazz in the space of 20 minutes - I just feckin love it - tune in and you'll get anything from eclectic 50's type quirky tunes, to classical music, alternative rock - it's brillo - click here. For example: Gems like this one about loving a cigarette don't come around that often - the singer collapses coughing at the end of the song...

Am also looking forward to listening to the Franny Mac stories here - thanks to Words A Day for that tip, I'll surely be listening to hers first, and I also have been enjoying our live Dublin talent, including the mighty 120 socks on the Glor sessions Ustream... all in all I don't miss tv much at all.

Apocalypse Fruit

We're packing up now for the proper move, the real, can't just come back home at weekends kind of move to Cork land - ie this time we'll be renting our own place instead of just going down and staying with my parents. Anyway - this week I am packing up and/ or clearing out the food press - getting rid of adzuki beans, bags of two year old flour - you know the kind of stuff - however I have two items that pose a bit of a problem (I'd show you them, only I've already packed the camera), what would you do with mysterious tinned fruit that according to the tin went off 3 and 4 years ago? I say mysterious because judging by the age at least one of these tins had to have been obtained before we moved to the current abode, also mysterious because neither of us remember being involved in their purchase - anyway obviously I can't eat them now - but i'm worried about throwing them out - firstly because my dratted conscience would be sure to force me to open, rinse and recycle the cans and god knows what they smell like, but secondly because what if they are destined to be apocalypse fruit, you know the one - in the stand or the road or z for zachariah where the hero of the hour struggles and straggles half dead to the last remaining intact kitchen cupboard, and manages to find some horribly gone off but just about still nourishing cans of fruit - so what that the hero is unlikely to be me, out of pure selflessness and for the good of the future survival of the future, maybe I should hold onto them?

Feeling Fluffy?

Even my most dedicated readers may not recall the delightful "cheese and freezes with the goats expenses" that appeared on a menu in a lovely little french restaurant not so long ago...Click here for that story. The new news is the nightmares in translation continue - see here a question on the english part of a french website from a so called "fluffy" gal - now unless i've missed out a new bit of slang in france - highly unlikely since I'm so street wise, cool and with it - even keeping up with trends and fashions from other nations - someone is pulling someone's jambon when it comes to translation...

A Rubbish Poem

I've been very absent of late from here, summer seems to be a quiet time in blog land in general... but anyway, I have returned with something rather special... a reply to a call posted on this blog two and a half years ago... yes you can read the original spur for this over here.

A very good friend of mine silently answered the plea, he was living in Boston at the time and now lives between Amsterdam and Cork, I'm just telling ye that, so you can appreciate how cosmopolitan and glamourous this poet is... so now - from the pen of PJ Lyddy, I give you a perfectly matured original work entitled "Rubbish"

Rubbish

Hey you, over here, look at me, I'm rubbish

C'mon buddy, it ain't that bad, you're not rubbish

Well, what am I, I'm just a discarded wrapper, they only wanted me for what was inside

Well, its not whats on the inside that counts, and it could be worse...

You could be like the leaves, they can't even speak, look at them, all mushy, brown and mute

Suppose you're right, I'm pretty tough, I'll make it through, I'll live for a thousand years

That's the spirit!

by PJ Lyddy