Martin on the Moon

As soon as one promises not to do something, it becomes the one thing above all others that one most wishes to do.

Georgette Heyer

“I will be here a year, from next month”, I said to a colleague, just as a decent pile of folded sweaters tumbled off the edge of the table, onto the floor. “ A year well spent, Isobel”, retorted my colleague, and walked away. While my knitted Rabbits and Beanie Bears do harbour a good chunk of my day, I do also hold a part time, day job. I work in a sweater shop (though not to be mistaken with a sweat shop). Then again…

So this time management, self-analysis, micro magnetic, connecting the dots thing is not a blaring beacon on my radar but, I get there eventually.

My Dream Life

The day usually begins with breakfast and a mouthful of emails. Followed by a cup of tea. Then I check my plan for today, written yesterday and strategically try to follow it, presently. In theory, it all works out brilliantly but in reality a little bit of my life sneaks back in and creates chaos.

Like Mum rings or I ring her. A friend wants to meet up for a chat or it’s like, I don’t care, I’m already there! So, plans get messed up.

What I need is a mindset shift. If I prioritise the fun and scale back the importance of work…ta dah! Would it happen that suddenly the pile of armless teddies would soon be real Teddies? Or would I screw the system and find more loop-holes than a Granny Square? I’ve already answered that question. 

One day.... it will happen!

It's a Walk in the Park...

“Why was I holding on to something that would never be mine? But isn't that what people do?”

― Bret Easton Ellis, Lunar Park

As the door opened, a quick crash, smash and jump backwards happened. I had forgotten that last night, the Iron had fallen sideways, knocking over some glass jars in the opposite side of the press (under-the-sink cupboard where everything goes). The said jar, that this morning, passed to jar heaven, was given as a gift, holding Italian Hot Chocolate made with real chocolate from the cake shop, where the giver, worked. I drank the chocolate and kept the jar. Like almost everything that comes from Italy, this too, was so damn pretty.

Now its sits in the recycling bin, wrapped in newspaper.

Was I holding onto the jar? ….or the person who gave the jar? Or was just holding onto the memory. I’m not a hoarder but I have kept obscure items with no rationality. Why keep them? There are photographs of benches, bus tickets from decades ago, and dried flowers. It’s like a network of memories, which keep the person.

The Self(s) 

I thought this was an interesting take :

http://www.prospectmagazine.co.uk/magazine/is-there-such-a-thing-as-the-self

Waiting for my clothes

You never realize how much of your background is sewn into the lining of your clothes.

Tom Wolfe

That scraggy cat from next door has just left and I hadn’t even noticed her enter the room. Her hair is missing in patches and she walks at a tilt. She’s no beauty but apparently, she is loved. Today, at this moment, I look like her. It has been a busy week with tossy nights sleep. I sit in my writing pose....poised sideways, V shaped, across an armchair with legs hoisted up on the couch. I’m dressed in scraggy jumper with parts missing and jogging pants. Minus the jogging.

What she needs

What I need

Oooh...life is good. Who cares what you look like when the only pair of eyes looking at you is wearing herself worse than you. We are beyond equal.

So, new attire has been in need for a while. At least for the knitted  Boogle Bunch. There was much talk and kerfuffle regarding the attire worn/ or not by my first samples. A need for clothing was discussed and much chat overheard, generally late at night. It would seem, knitted toys can be just as opinionated as the rest of us. Having taken one look at their creator, heads dropped and were shook slowly, with drawn breaths.

I give up!

Okay, so  how about an Autumnal look for the coming season? You get over Summer pretty quickly when it’s all rain and shuffling around in light jackets. A little taste of what The Boogles can expect....Tah Dah!

I like it! 

Mmmm....

Fortunately, The Milk

“If the same object from two different times touches itself, one of two things will happen. Either the Universe will cease to exist. Or three remarkable dwarfs will dance through the streets with flowerpots on their heads.”

― Neil Gaiman, Fortunately, the Milk

I was up early this week. Sleep hasn’t stayed long enough over one evening so it’s just been a lumped together, week. A friend has recently given birth to her beautiful new baby and I got the chance to hold her. The baby. I almost fell in love with her. Said friend is getting very little sleep and hasn’t heard the pop of a bottle of wine opening, since...sometime ago. I think her sleep patterns are catching on though. In fairness, all I had to show for my wine sabbatical and red eyes was a two day visit to Limerick Milk Market. It was worth it.

Alpaca Doughnut Balls

Day 1: I don’t make it to Limerick often so, naturally, I got lost. I drove around the city, early morning, meeting and greeting every red traffic light with a frustrated grunt. I saw parts of the city I honestly didn’t know existed, and it was great. It almost felt like being abroad!

Finally, I set eyes on the elusive white peak of the Milk Market roof. Whoa! A near accidental collison with a white van later, I gratefully unload the car, thinking there has to be better ways of making money.

Home, Sweet, Sweet Home...

Day 2: I got lost. Well with even less sleep and an earlier start losing my way was inevitable. This day was even busier, bustlier and more foodie. My eyes watered, my stomach panged and a decent chocolate croissant was badly needed. And a coffee, some cheese tasting, a quick scoot around the plant section, oh the Falafelle dinner a couple of stalls down, some cake tasting and a big bottle of water. With food time over, the business of the day got on way. 

Jule & Jim

Until the next visit......

It was a beautiful day....

The Summer I turned pretty...freckly!

The most certain sign of wisdom is cheerfulness.

Michel de Montaigne

The sun has been making its unusual aquaintance with us again this summer, which by my humble opinion, is good.

What better way to spend a summery weekend in June….a Flower Festival!

An early arrival was still late by others standards, as stalls were busily being erected, paintings were hung, ducks ushered in and food stalls were set up.

I dropped a couple of boxes, a folding table and a big bottle of water under a tree while I found a suitable parking spot.

The crowds rolled in, late morning as the smell of freshly cooked food welled in the woody park. A guy in stilts walked past, several times, each time giving the same cheery ‘hello’, with waving hands. I slip on the sunglasses and suddenly my phone seems awful interesting. A unicycle performers rides up and down the pathways, pushing the segmented front half of a bike, completely in tandem with the atmosphere of the day.

The dog show draws a lot of well-groomed dogs whose hair is better kept than my own. There is a puppet show further down the park while the stilted guy passes again with the same cheery hello. I smile, again.

So, great summers leads to warmth and opens rural communities to a hive of outdoor activities. Long live summer.

“And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.”

― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

The Winner takes it all...even the insults!

“The real glory is being knocked to your knees and then coming back. That's real glory. Thats the essence of it.”

― Vince Lombardi

This week, I won. Yeh! I won tickets, through a radio station competition, for a Jack White gig this summer. As I’m a massive fan, clearly, I was lifted. That lift was weighed down somewhat, by the fact the radio producer, mistook me for an apparent ‘stalker’ type lady who has been harassing him for alt tickets. Wrong gig, Ed and wrong girl! Oh, but how we laughed!

So, maybe winning isn’t everything. Yesterday is not ours to recover, but tomorrow is ours to win or lose. It’s not the destination but the journey… blady, blady, blah blah.

So, this week, I am not winning but taking part in two major events, in Kerry. Listowel Writers Week will resume its’ beautiful assault on Listowel town from this Thursday. WW is fantastic. Not only a great socializing event, it houses storytellers, poets, drunks, craic, crafters and a couple of writers. I have been to see many great speakers such as Richard Dawkins, who intelligence far by-passed his audience but still managed to remain intriguing. Alain de Botton was witt, light and sharp as a tack. David Sedaris, won of my favourites was speaking in St John’s theatre sometime before or after the stage play Carnage. As the latest addition to Listowel, the Craftshop na Mear, will also be hosting events throughout the week. I will be there.

Killorglin is home to KFest, Munsters newest cultural fringe festival. This will be taking place over the weekend. As I’m a newbie, I don’t know what to expect. It looks like a whole lot of good so a win win situation.

So a busy week for all involved in these two gems. Long may they continue to transfuse rich culture and a bit of fun into rural Ireland.  

Fear & Trembling

“Bran thought about it. 'Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?'

'That is the only time a man can be brave,' his father told him.”

― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

What is it? The one thing that makes you quiver, wretch, draws pill sized goosepimples up on your skin, just at a thought or memory? There is the dreadful Spider family, the shimmering Heights at the top of a ladder or the slither of a cold hypodermic Needle into the arm. Ouch! My personal best is Agoraphobia which is defined in medical terms as: “The fear of situations in which escape is difficult.” I prefer this to a fear of going outside as I regulary go outside and find I have no fear at all. In fact, I quite enjoy the experience of engaging in a varying environments. The problem develops when I am unable to leave!

The dentist has particular control on creating this fear. Not only do you know you have to go, but when you get there, you can’t leave. A visit to the dentist is prolonged torture. The build up to what you can expect, the percieved sinister smile when you enter the surgery and their abiltiy to jam as many metal objects into your mouth as possible. While this is happening, they usually start up a lively converstion asking if you feel any pain! Please, take a snapshot....

The Far Side

Sometimes, I feel similar pain while working. The fear of facing my bank balance, the paper work my accountant insisted I should organise, the fear of the unknown each time I lift the needles and begin. What should emerge, what will emerge. A little bit of magic...here’s hoping. Working creatively is liberating, captivating but also incarcerating. You are confined and let loose at the same time. It makes the journey all the sweeter and more enjoyable but like all sweets, that trip to the dentist will ensue!

Thankfully, the apprenhension of fear is all in your head. Stay sane, stay knitting...and stay hungry. Thanks Steve, for that one.