Lá Fhéile Pádraig Sona Daoibh

(La ale-lah pwad-rig son-ah jeev)
Happy St Patrick's Day!


St Patrick's Day and Christmas are the only festivals that Craig and I actually try and celebrate.

At my work the other day I had a conversation with a coworker that amounted to
CW : Do you have your leave sorted for Easter?
ME : No ... when's easter? I have my leave sorted for the day after St Patrick's Day
CW : huh. When's St Patrick's Day?
Ah priorities.

Anything that advocates drunkeness is alright by me.
Drunken singing of crazy songs is even better.
Today Craig and I are both wearing green and tonight we will join a green sea in our local Irish Pub (Cheapest Guinness in Wellington!).

I mean, tonight we will be watching The Sound of Music and tomorrow we will be donating puppies to blind orphans. yes.



The other day I lost my Claddagh ring and ended up spending the better part of a day looking for it. I was actually quite upset, what with it coming up to St Patrick's and all.
I've worn a claddagh since I was ... 11? 10? 8? I must have been younger than 11. My cousin sent it to me when she was living in Ireland. So it really was an Irish Claddagh Ring. What? it was cool when I was in primary school.



The traditional wedding ring of the Irish since the 17th Century, the Royal Claddagh ring is today worn by people all over the world as a universal symbol of love, loyalty, friendship and fidelity, and of their Irish heritage.

For love, we wear the heart. In friendship, we wear the hands. And, in loyalty and lasting fidelity: we wear the Royal Claddagh crown.

Worn on the right hand, with crown and heart facing out, the ring tells that the wearer's heart is yet to be won. While under love's spell it is worn with heart and crown facing inwards. Wearing the ring on the left hand, with the crown and heart facing inwards, signifies that your love has been requited.
from claddagh.com

My first Claddagh I wore so much that by the end it wore through. Split right along the seam where it had been sized and they told me there wasn't enough silver to repair it. Poor worn out dead ring.
So naturally I went straight out and bought a replacement.
This one didn't last long enough to wear out. At the time, I was working at a Subway restaurant (oh the shame) and as far as I can tell it ended up in a rubbish bin buried beneath plastic gloves and lettuce remnants. Even I have my limits.
My third Claddagh (and the one I'm wearing now) was bought for me by Craig after the plastic-y death of my previous one, it has a black sapphire heart, apparently to match the cold hard blackness of my own heart. He's lucky that I love him.

I hope tonight lives up to the hype. I think last year I had to start work at 7am the next morning but this year I planned ahead and I have no work tomorrow. I needn't get up at all!
Kat is going to come with us tonight, with a view to drinking and meeting some Irish (oirish) boys. I hope she knows that most of the people will be over fifty and that they don't have eftpos - it's a hardcore Irish Pub. But the drinking will be done.
Oo that reminds me. I don't have any cash either. Must remedy that. Don't forget!


(oh and I found my ring by the way)

You can never go home again

Last night I ended up collapsed on my bed crying.

Now usually when I cry I get very very still and very very quiet and tears just roll down my cheeks. But last night I was on my bed and almost sobbing (I was very tired). And when Craig got back from his shower I pretended to be reading and succeded quite well, but after we turned out the lights I couldn't stop my body from shaking.
And why?
Because it was the full moon and I couldn't sleep with my curtains open and moonlight streaming in. OF COURSE.

My childhood bedroom (well, my bedroom from ages 8 - 22, aka MOST OF MY LIFE) was the upstairs corner bedroom in our house, I had windows stretching most of the way around the north and east facing walls and as there were no other 2-storey buildings nearby I slept with my windows open. Quite often with wet hair. What? I was building up my uh immunity to colds.
Like that I could see stars and it was almost never fully dark in my room, just paling and navy-blue. In summers I would wake with the sun.
I would sleep with the windows open and piles of blankets on my bed, it was hard to get up in the mornings but the air never smells so clean as at midnight.
The full moon was my favourite time (it always has been) and last night it hit me that I would never sleep with it streaming in those windows, it would never be my room again.
My littlest sister moved in as soon as I moved out, and now ... I'm married.
I don't think I'd ever grieved after moving out, because what people usually miss is their families, and mine are so so close. I never thought I would miss a room so much.
Craig of course held me, let me leak tears all over him, and he pressed his cheek against my forehead.
Somethings are worth a little sacrifice.

Plus, there will always be more windows, and I don't think the moon is going anywhere.

Making absolutely no sense since 1983

Craig and I were in the kitchen earlier (in fact just a few minutes ago which shows my dedication to you, my internet, that I will cook dinner and update at the same time!) and he was dealing with the unsavoury business of slicing chicken while I retrieved the Hoisin sauce (how is that pronounced anyway?) from the fridge.

Not furthering the reputation of small large-breasted women everywhere I was struggling to open it. And so, furtheing the reputation of my all-knowing-feminist mother I leaned over and banged the jar against the floor several times, swearing halfway through.

I put the jar down on the counter and Craig turned to me and said in a vaguely bemused fashion "D'you want some help there?"
Instinctively my left hand felt for my hip, my left eyebrow raised and my lips skewed ever so slightly, left (my left side gets very het up) and I measured my next words very carefully. They were a level tablespoon of "Excuse me?"
I think I saw him withdraw ever-so-slightly and he wrinkled his eyebrows and said "oh, did you get it open" pausing between each word.
"Of COURSE I did!" my left hand was still cemented to my hip "I am a ... strong ... independent woman and we don't need men for anything! Except maybe that procreation thing"

Craig fell back on his fool-proof method to talk me down from any (and all) ledge. He became annoyingly adorable "yes you do, you need us for love, and hugs" my eyes rolled "and ... to buy you things and drive you places" he was almost winning with that one so I buried my head in his chest for a second, looked up at him (being short can be useful) widened my eyes and tried to out-cute him.

"Nooo we don't! I don't need you for anything, except that procreation thing because I want my babies to have your eyes" he kissed me! I was winning "with my eyes as the only other option. I don't want my babies to have some creepy sperm donor eyes ... they'd be all white and squiggly"
Craig broke down into laughter and victory was mine.