Various and sundry
Lately, forcing myself to post anything beyond the odd word here and there has been much like pulling teeth - only without the curious smelling gas, blood, and dentist. I think I've been floating along blissfully in the sea of Can't Be Arsed.
There really isn't much use in having a journal if one never uses it, now is there?
So, whilst I'm waiting for shaddowshoes to make good on his ice cream suggestion, I'm pissing about with my new Macintosh LJ client, and having a go at finding words to match the goings on of the last fortnight. I think there's my trouble, really - none of the words I've got match the events at all.
I made mention of a gig at Trinity Hall at the end of last month, mostly to announce that my new bodhran (ah, for some reason I can't work out how to make a sineadh fada on a Macintosh keyboard, so you'll suffer me my inconsistency) and I had come to some sort of agreement. This was, of course, before I doused her with water at last Tuesday's seisiun. Here's to hoping she's in better spirits tomorrow night.
Anyhow, there was a gig, and all things considered (lack of proper practise time, filthy bloody weather, insanely hot stage) it went really well. As a band is never supposed to be anymore than slightly out of the background at Trinity Hall, reaching people is always a challenge there, so it's grand when it goes well. I've really got to learn to pace myself a bit better. Och. I arrived home with myself and my car in one piece by the grace of Whomever, janeymac I was flat by the end of it. I am not getting too old for this, oh no. Oh, never. Oish.
We'd received several invitations to ring in the new year with various and sundry groups, but we decided instead to put together our own small, intimate gathering. We had round most of the band (typsygypsy and toarthos had elected to spend their first New Years together at home alone), and another friend from the Irish scene (and an interesting watchmaker fellow she'd brought).
We had a grand time. We drank champagne, I made fondue, and we played rather an amusing game that Chris and Michelle had brought round. After the ball had dropped, and we'd played another hand, and everybody had made their good-byes, we curlled up into our own bed that had been never more than thirty feet away from us. Ah, the simple joys of staying in.
Pause for ice cream...
Right then, we spent the first full weekend of the new year ... Chris on a bike, how did we spend it? Friday...sure, Friday was rehearsal...oh, right, and we dragged mishajames out to an Italian restaurant to celebrate his 35th (my, how time flies, I think this makes two decades that we've known each other. Argh). Saturday...we did something. At any rate, I can't recall what we did during the day, but we went round the Tipp that night to hear a fellow sing Christy Moore songs. If I recall, the weather was foul. No matter, that. The next day, shaddowshoes's parents and gran came round, and afterwards we went round the new MacHenry's for Diana Foster's gig. She sounded really well, despite having a touch of plague. I think this is the best place that John has found, thus far. It's open, reasonably simple to find, it isn't in the back of beyond, and I think we could actually convince people to come out to this one.
So there will likely be talk with John this year. The stage at this location is larger as well, and there's a billiards table and dartboards. Since shaddowshoes and I have each now got our own darts, this is important. We're trying to work out the best place for a proper dartboard in Margaret Murphy's. I think there's no other place for one but the garage door. It's made of paper, that door. A wildly pitched dart could easily hurtle straight through it.
This weekend was supposed to be the boys' trip to the woods and the girls' (well, myself and Linda, at any rate) trip to Englewood, only the weather pissed over everybody's parade. Firstly, rain was assured, so the fellows decided they were going nowhere. Then the threat of being icebound till today chased Linda and myself away from Englewood Saturday afternoon - and of course, it was never as bad as doomsayer weather people had predicted. Better safe than sorry, I suppose. We did have a lovely Friday evening, and sure we can always pick up where we left off.
And...in all honesty, I was flat for most of Saturday. I'd found a book in the room where I was staying Friday night and had read into the wee hours. Then I lost the quiet, seething argument I'd been having with the wine I'd drunk (lest you decide that I'd foolishly pissed my brains away and thus got what I deserved, I did not. Wine and I are rarely ever mates - and this wasn't one of the times in which we were. On a bad day, one glass has got the power to send me scarpering for the sick bag). Ah well.
After shaddowshoes and I got home (he'd joined us for dinner), he asked 'so, what would you like to do now?'
'To be honest', sez I, 'I think a nap is order'. I slept for most of the rest of the day and the entire night.
As Ken had cancelled the Trinity seisiun, we decided that Sunday wouldn't be a day for fulfilling any sort of obligations at all. The ex-moose tree is still where it's been since December, the outdoor lights are still in a snaky pile before the hearth. It'll keep till next Saturday.
As the roads leading to shaddowshoes's office had got rather nasty, he elected to work from home. It's grand that we can do this. He installed himself in his office, I fed him, attacked the washing up, and walked for most of a mile on the elliptical. I'm grossly out of practise, and thus am taking things slowly.
Now...it's time for us to be off to our bed.
There really isn't much use in having a journal if one never uses it, now is there?
So, whilst I'm waiting for shaddowshoes to make good on his ice cream suggestion, I'm pissing about with my new Macintosh LJ client, and having a go at finding words to match the goings on of the last fortnight. I think there's my trouble, really - none of the words I've got match the events at all.
I made mention of a gig at Trinity Hall at the end of last month, mostly to announce that my new bodhran (ah, for some reason I can't work out how to make a sineadh fada on a Macintosh keyboard, so you'll suffer me my inconsistency) and I had come to some sort of agreement. This was, of course, before I doused her with water at last Tuesday's seisiun. Here's to hoping she's in better spirits tomorrow night.
Anyhow, there was a gig, and all things considered (lack of proper practise time, filthy bloody weather, insanely hot stage) it went really well. As a band is never supposed to be anymore than slightly out of the background at Trinity Hall, reaching people is always a challenge there, so it's grand when it goes well. I've really got to learn to pace myself a bit better. Och. I arrived home with myself and my car in one piece by the grace of Whomever, janeymac I was flat by the end of it. I am not getting too old for this, oh no. Oh, never. Oish.
We'd received several invitations to ring in the new year with various and sundry groups, but we decided instead to put together our own small, intimate gathering. We had round most of the band (typsygypsy and toarthos had elected to spend their first New Years together at home alone), and another friend from the Irish scene (and an interesting watchmaker fellow she'd brought).
We had a grand time. We drank champagne, I made fondue, and we played rather an amusing game that Chris and Michelle had brought round. After the ball had dropped, and we'd played another hand, and everybody had made their good-byes, we curlled up into our own bed that had been never more than thirty feet away from us. Ah, the simple joys of staying in.
Pause for ice cream...
Right then, we spent the first full weekend of the new year ... Chris on a bike, how did we spend it? Friday...sure, Friday was rehearsal...oh, right, and we dragged mishajames out to an Italian restaurant to celebrate his 35th (my, how time flies, I think this makes two decades that we've known each other. Argh). Saturday...we did something. At any rate, I can't recall what we did during the day, but we went round the Tipp that night to hear a fellow sing Christy Moore songs. If I recall, the weather was foul. No matter, that. The next day, shaddowshoes's parents and gran came round, and afterwards we went round the new MacHenry's for Diana Foster's gig. She sounded really well, despite having a touch of plague. I think this is the best place that John has found, thus far. It's open, reasonably simple to find, it isn't in the back of beyond, and I think we could actually convince people to come out to this one.
So there will likely be talk with John this year. The stage at this location is larger as well, and there's a billiards table and dartboards. Since shaddowshoes and I have each now got our own darts, this is important. We're trying to work out the best place for a proper dartboard in Margaret Murphy's. I think there's no other place for one but the garage door. It's made of paper, that door. A wildly pitched dart could easily hurtle straight through it.
This weekend was supposed to be the boys' trip to the woods and the girls' (well, myself and Linda, at any rate) trip to Englewood, only the weather pissed over everybody's parade. Firstly, rain was assured, so the fellows decided they were going nowhere. Then the threat of being icebound till today chased Linda and myself away from Englewood Saturday afternoon - and of course, it was never as bad as doomsayer weather people had predicted. Better safe than sorry, I suppose. We did have a lovely Friday evening, and sure we can always pick up where we left off.
And...in all honesty, I was flat for most of Saturday. I'd found a book in the room where I was staying Friday night and had read into the wee hours. Then I lost the quiet, seething argument I'd been having with the wine I'd drunk (lest you decide that I'd foolishly pissed my brains away and thus got what I deserved, I did not. Wine and I are rarely ever mates - and this wasn't one of the times in which we were. On a bad day, one glass has got the power to send me scarpering for the sick bag). Ah well.
After shaddowshoes and I got home (he'd joined us for dinner), he asked 'so, what would you like to do now?'
'To be honest', sez I, 'I think a nap is order'. I slept for most of the rest of the day and the entire night.
As Ken had cancelled the Trinity seisiun, we decided that Sunday wouldn't be a day for fulfilling any sort of obligations at all. The ex-moose tree is still where it's been since December, the outdoor lights are still in a snaky pile before the hearth. It'll keep till next Saturday.
As the roads leading to shaddowshoes's office had got rather nasty, he elected to work from home. It's grand that we can do this. He installed himself in his office, I fed him, attacked the washing up, and walked for most of a mile on the elliptical. I'm grossly out of practise, and thus am taking things slowly.
Now...it's time for us to be off to our bed.