Monday, Monday.

Hi Bloglodytes.
Time for that holiday debriefing I promised you, along with some whining about the weather.

Taking my holiday goals point by point:

1. This one was complicated. Did I
-recharge my writing bats
-sit in cafés
-check books out of libraries
-oil my grey cells with donuts
all in English? Yes and no. Three weeks sounded like such a long time, but family and friends soaked up so much of it (in a good way) that I did not get any time alone to speak of. See number ten. I also hardly had anytime to read- I didn't even finish the one book I brought with me for the flight over. I did however, get donuts.
2. Did I check out my sis-in-law's belly? Yes! This is a fantastic belly, and, rumour has it, crammed with Girl Power, and bigbro took us to the clinic where he works to show us an ultrasound. Even grey and pixalated, she's a cutie.
3. My old college buddy, The Ped, is still totally silly. Husband show's signs of being unworthy (doesn't think Monty Python is funny) but is otherwise a nice guy. Not my call.
4. Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! Old Man With Beard fucking shaved! Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! Arrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! Other than that, we had fun, but isn't it strong, this desire to have your childhood fixtures not change? Grow it back! Grow it back!
5. Shop. Did that. Should have taken a picture of it all, but didn't think to. What did I buy? Why, what any normal person would buy; 112 mechanical pencils, Halloweeny stuff since it's so hard to get over here, lots of word games in English, Candy Corn, fancy schmancy M&Ms (another thing I can't get over here,) another box of Wilton's food coloring so I can make more cakes like this, and some other bits and bobs, such as a liquid soap dispenser in the shape of the Toy Story aliens, T-shirts for the kids...
6. Yes, I ate donuts and cakes. For about one week I was royally sick of them but now I miss them already. Also, on another, totally unrelated note, some wiseass has let air out of the giant inflatable ball I use as a chair in my office while I was away. I know this because I am much lower to the ground.
7. Ethnic food, ordered in English: Mexican, Vietnamese (cooked by my friend, yummy!) Indian, Asian Fusion, Middle Eastern, and lots of faves (Clausen chilled dills, anyone?) from the supermarket.
8. Hiking. Well. Since Old Man With Beard Who Messed With My Head And Shaved (see number 4) came along, we were limited. We did go to the swamp, though.

9. Oh, bugger. Totally forgot to teach my nephews how to burp. Taught them a few curse words, apparently, which didn't go over too well, although apparently unlimited violence is OK, as long as we're all clear on who the 'bad' guy is. Go figure.
10. Hide when it's time to come home. I didn't do this. As mentioned in number three, I had very little time to myself. Even though I tend to be an early riser, since we were usually either staying in a house full of people or sharing (all five of us) a hotel room, I was kind of happy to get back to my little office (see the view here (top photo)) and an unshared computer. Yes, I'm a spoiled brat. You love me anyway?

It was a fun trip. The weather was mostly very agreeable. Listen to me; I'm using words like agreeable. I'm feeling a bit flat. I think it is just simply the case, that when you share holiday time with friends and family, you have to find activities that suit everyone, so you can't cut loose as much. Perhaps that's it. Anyway, though I had fun, I have the feeling now that I did not manage to sink my teeth into this holiday the way I had planned. Is that it? Hmmm... I have to let this feeling percolate a bit more... Anyway, I'm writing again, so that's got to be good.

Jeeeeetlaaaaag.

More to come, Bloglodytes, I promise, but I have failed utterly to get a decent night's sleep since I got back, plus I have a Koala (totally justified, I add) up my butt, so this is all you get for now.  Even so, these donuts are pretty righteous, aren't they?  Go on! Help yourselves!

Vacaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaation! (AKA, holiday)

I'm a total deadbeat, I know.  Truth is, I just hit sudden burnout about two weeks ago.  I've been over to EE's maybe twice, haven't hardly checked duotrope at all, and haven't written anything.  Don't know why, don't care much, but I know from experience that it's temporary burnout and I hope to be my frolicky, verbose old self when I get back from holiday.  Yes, that's right, bloglodytes, I'm going on hols for three whole weeks.  During these three weeks I will:

1. Recharge my writing bats.  I will sit in cafés (if my kids let me :) and listen to bits of dialog in English, check books out of libraries in English, and oil my grey cells with donuts, in English.  
2. Listen to my sis-in-law's belly and see if anybody says anything (in English).
3. Visit my bestest friend from college and make damn sure she's still totally silly.  Adjust her husbands silly-bone, if necessary, until he's worthy of her.  
4.  Visit the Old Man With The Beard, aka, Dad.  He only speaks English.
5.  Shop!  Shop shop shop!  Shooooooooooooooooooooooop!  Did I mention shop?
6  Eat donuts and cakes with salt in them!  This is the downfall of continental baking.  They don't put that pinch of salt in, and I CAN'T TASTE A FUCKING THING.  
7.  Eat lots of ethnic food.  Order it all in English.
8.  Go hiking to burn off said donuts, cake and food.  Talk to trees in English, and know that they understand.
9.  Teach my nephews how to burp properly.  In English.
10.  Hide when it's time to come home again.  ;)


I'll be around til the end of next week, packing and buying prezzies and doing laundry, but after that I won't be back til mid-October.  :)

French Kid Update

Le French Kid, AKA Randy the Unpronounceable, has arrived. We have made the following observations:

1) He folds his dirty laundry.
2) He speaks three words of German. We are still trying to figure out which three.
3) He's very shy, and mumbles when he talks (which is rare enough). He only mumbles in French.
4) In the event that the subject is brought to smile, (we have only managed to elicit this phenomenon once) he has killer dimples.

Even though we are supposed to speak German to him, Bearded One took pity on him and tried to speak to him in French at dinner last night; the kid is 12 and it was a 10 hour bus ride. (Their driver got lost and wound up at the Hospital. Prima's teacher went to rescue them and guide them to the school. It was eight by the time they arrived back at our house.) Anyway, Randy did not seem to understand Bearded One's French, which is scary because Bearded one had nine years of French in school and worked in the French speaking part of Switzerland for two years speaking what he had always assumed was French.

Will keep you bloglodytes posted on Randy's progress. Perhaps we can get him to fling his dirty socks at the laundry basket like a normal kid by the time he leaves.

Two Weeks in Ireland

But where are all the Irish?

O'Loony's used to be such a great place... The best possible location overlooking the beach at Lahinch. It has been revamped to reflect the times- the 'pub' look, which I found so comfortable is gone. Fair enough; the Irish are updating themselves, and they have that right. But I used to be able to get a decent bowl of soup there, served to me by someone who at least acted like they cared...

This year, the interior is beige, bordering on puce (which is already enough to induce vomiting, really) and the staff aloof. I'm not sure if the waiter didn't speak any English or just thought he was too cool to waste words. He never asked what we wanted- just stood there with his pad and pen, looking expectant. He never even asked if the food was ok. I'd have told him, if he'd asked... On the menu it said 'mushroom soup.' I suspect it was a mixture of mashed potato, sea water and a bit of ground turf for colour. I returned the bowl with most of the soup still in it, and he still didn't ask...
Farther north, in Ballyvaughan at the famous Monks Pub, the food was considerably better. The staff was mostly American. This is a good way for Americans to see Europe at the moment, the dollar being what it is. I will therefore try to forgive the girls for not knowing that Stag is a cider, and for thinking I was asking for a glass of water when I asked if they had MiWadi. They were friendly and helpful, if not smiling.

Now. Back to Lahinch, to The Cornerstone. The Food here still ranks miles above what's left of O'Loony's. The problem was the ditsy blond Polish waitress. I made the mistake of asking for two pints of Stag again. She didn't bat an eyelash, and I thought 'yay, I'm finally going to get my Stag.' She brought us two pints of? Smithwicks! The woman running the bar was actually Irish, so I asked her what the deal was, as we had ordered Stag. She said 'oh, she (the polish girl) thought you said stout.' I guess that was the best she could come up with; we knew it was rubbish, she knew it was rubbish, we knew she knew an ale from a stout and she must have known we knew she knew it (still with me here?); but she was embarrassed and trying to train the worst waitress on the planet.

Then we tried to order food. The conversation went like this:
Us: How large is a portion of chips?
Her: Yes.
Us: No, how big?
Her: ... umm.... with sandwiches.
Us: No, how BIG? (indicating concept of 'size' with hands)
Her: Oh! (big smile) about five minutes!
I am not kidding here. We ordered a sandwich, and she asked 'how much. a portion?' And we thought sandwiches were counted in sandwiches. Shows what we know...
In the end, we ate the soup and sandwiches, drank the beer, and waited waited waited for the chips, the onion rings and the scone. Ten minutes and a chat with the manager later, we finally had the chips, the onion rings and the scones, she even threw in an extra basket of chips to make up for the delay, and the food was great. But she will have to ditch that waitress. A group of Germans came in as we left.
German guy, loud and clear, after some consultation with his pals: two Guinness and a coke please.
Her: (repeating) two Guinness and a coke. (writes on her notepad) Now, how many Guinness?
By the time we left the restaurant, we knew their order by heart, but she still didn't.

There were others; Spanish, Americans, more Poles, a German. Now, I have two things to say:
1) None of these foreigners, the Americans, the Spanish, the Polish seemed to be enjoying themselves at all.
2) If you want lunch in Lahinch, go to Kenny's Bar.