It's been grand, but if it's all the same to you...
...I'd rather be done with the month of March now, please. I know, I know - it's supposed the be the Bestest Month Ever!111!!1zomg*!!! for Irish musicians, And Yet.
Sure, it hasn't been as though the moon fell out of the sky and smashed half the world flat and made the other half to resort to cannibalism to survive, but it's been rather a difficult month, and I'm ready for the 'out like a lamb' part of it.
Irish Fest flattened me (and even more than I'd realised), and all that I did there was to mind instrument check-in, play at the O'Flaherty booth, and help shaddowshoes to set up and strike his two stages. In an entire weekend, that isn't really a great deal. Only I caught plague (or whatever), didn't I? Thus I spent an entire day afterwards almost completely flat.
I'm one of the foolish sorts of people who tends to carry on with whatever I feel I should be doing regardless of how I may be feeling. Usually, I can get away with it, only not this time. In stead of expelling the invaders and utterly quelling any remaining splinter factions, I managed only to press the Plague into hiding.
It regrouped, gained strength, bought itself new uniforms and fired off a salvo that took out my forwards guard. The smiling, tie-wearing doctor at the quack shack labelled it 'bronchitis'.
But I don't smoke, sez I, which obviously fell on deaf ears, and last night I was told by a friend's son that smoking doesn't cause bronchitis. Well, I suppose I knew that, but I did think it made one more likely to suffer from it. At any rate, I'm being plied with medicine, so with any luck I'll have chased it away by Saturday night.
This has been our very first weekend in nigh unto a month that we've had no pressing obligations. So...yesterday, we went to see Michelle's daughter's film ('BITCH' - it's hystaerical), and afterwards we drove to meet with friends.
Today, after a long and pleasantly spent morning, shaddowshoes went off to help a friend update a Macintosh, and I vowed not to do anything, really. Last night, Becky had warned me that I might be fighting this nonsense for weeks if I don't keep still for a little while, and it's got to be gone by Saturday night (which likely means I shouldn't go to seisiun this week. Grr). So...my, it's getting late, and I'm starting to lose my point (silence, youse).
At any rate, as I was lolling about and drinking tea, I had a peek at my email - 'cos that isn't actually doing anything, now is it - and in said email was a message from a friend that I'd lost contact with more than a decade ago (and she's got an LJ).
She's married and living in Seattle now, and I'm looking forward to reconnecting.
The evening was spent at Trinity Hall, as it was Linda's birthday, and she needed to be lavished with baubles, beads, and Irish coffee.
* Yes, I actually did employ the phrase 'zomg'. What?
Sure, it hasn't been as though the moon fell out of the sky and smashed half the world flat and made the other half to resort to cannibalism to survive, but it's been rather a difficult month, and I'm ready for the 'out like a lamb' part of it.
Irish Fest flattened me (and even more than I'd realised), and all that I did there was to mind instrument check-in, play at the O'Flaherty booth, and help shaddowshoes to set up and strike his two stages. In an entire weekend, that isn't really a great deal. Only I caught plague (or whatever), didn't I? Thus I spent an entire day afterwards almost completely flat.
I'm one of the foolish sorts of people who tends to carry on with whatever I feel I should be doing regardless of how I may be feeling. Usually, I can get away with it, only not this time. In stead of expelling the invaders and utterly quelling any remaining splinter factions, I managed only to press the Plague into hiding.
It regrouped, gained strength, bought itself new uniforms and fired off a salvo that took out my forwards guard. The smiling, tie-wearing doctor at the quack shack labelled it 'bronchitis'.
But I don't smoke, sez I, which obviously fell on deaf ears, and last night I was told by a friend's son that smoking doesn't cause bronchitis. Well, I suppose I knew that, but I did think it made one more likely to suffer from it. At any rate, I'm being plied with medicine, so with any luck I'll have chased it away by Saturday night.
This has been our very first weekend in nigh unto a month that we've had no pressing obligations. So...yesterday, we went to see Michelle's daughter's film ('BITCH' - it's hystaerical), and afterwards we drove to meet with friends.
Today, after a long and pleasantly spent morning, shaddowshoes went off to help a friend update a Macintosh, and I vowed not to do anything, really. Last night, Becky had warned me that I might be fighting this nonsense for weeks if I don't keep still for a little while, and it's got to be gone by Saturday night (which likely means I shouldn't go to seisiun this week. Grr). So...my, it's getting late, and I'm starting to lose my point (silence, youse).
At any rate, as I was lolling about and drinking tea, I had a peek at my email - 'cos that isn't actually doing anything, now is it - and in said email was a message from a friend that I'd lost contact with more than a decade ago (and she's got an LJ).
She's married and living in Seattle now, and I'm looking forward to reconnecting.
The evening was spent at Trinity Hall, as it was Linda's birthday, and she needed to be lavished with baubles, beads, and Irish coffee.
* Yes, I actually did employ the phrase 'zomg'. What?