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Archive for the ‘Rant’ Category

Is that the verse? I wonder if the Irish have as many words for rain as the Inuit have for snow. We were reassured that yesterday there would only be showers, not rain per se.  One man we met walking his old dog said there could be ten squalls or perhaps none until night, you never know. That’s Ireland for you. Here’s what the radar looked like,  chicken pox, with little squalls all over the place. Not like home where we often get one huge formed storm system. But we are not home, are we?

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The first couple had hail and strong winds. That hurt! And they were in the first hour of yesterday’s walk. Then we mostly had showers, quick bursts of rain and wind. The walk was through a bog – read miles of mud and puddles – that were unavoidable. I had water sloshing in my boots, which at least prevented blisters. We took a lunch break during a bright spot in the weather. I changed into dry socks only to walk through puddles for the next couple of hours. Gaiters might have helped.

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And to think we are here in early Spring to miss mud season at home. May have to rethink this.

The skies were dramatic and there were long views over the Lee River at the start of our walk along the Dingle Way, which was an old pilgrimage walk. I’m rereading some of John O’Donohue’s work, my favorite was Anam Cara, which is on my bookshelf at home. He reminded me to breathe.

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We’ve seen many breed of sheep along our walks and often walk through fields with animals since all of the land is privately owned. We saw this colorful flock near the village of Camp. Dyed in the wool?

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And at the end of the day, I had a sunburned, hail beaten, windblown face.

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Not spoken or written words – the game, Words with friends. As I write this, I have 6 games in progress. Several just get a word a day.

It’s sort of like Scrabble but its not. Nonsense words are accepted. There’s no opportunity to challenge an opponent’s move; if the computer doesn’t like it, they can’t play it. And the computer likes crazy words – luv, bens, jape, om, bo. These are desperate times. Z and Q words remain limited.

I’m sure this game leads to corporate waste because I see a few moves made during working hours. It’s a nice way to stay connected but I don’t want it to interfere with baking

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bread making

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cooking

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The first photo is the most amazing nutmeg and black pepper popovers from Bon Appetit magazine.
They went perfectly with short ribs cooked in the crockpot and kale and leeks. Hoo boy that was good!

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Fiber monkey on my back

My love of all things fiber continues to grow and expand. It began with knitting an Aran sweater in 2005 and, today, includes knitting, spinning, dyeing, weaving, quilting and sewing. In addition, I’ve always had a love of linen table fibers, as evidenced by the dining room drawers jammed with lace, damask, tatting, linen and hand crocheted doilies, tablecloths and runners, a few even hand made by yours truly.

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My true addiction was revealed
yesterday. I couldn’t pass up a yard sale I saw on my way home from the recycling center. There were hand crocheted tablecloths, linen-hemstitched napkins, and embroidered table linens, all meticulously clean. They sparkled in the sun and smelled so fresh. I decided upon a crocheted tablecloth and set of linen napkins.

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I got home and decided to organize the linens. Unlike my other fiber stashes, which are sequestered and scattered throughout the house waiting for inspiration, table linens have to be accessible. So they are. Stuffed in drawers.

Lo and behold, I already have a set of hem-stitched, linen napkins. But you can never have too many. I hung up the tablecloths, which were wrinkled because they had been jammed in the drawers, and, since it was a sunny, breezy day, washed a few of them and hung them on the line to dry. My domestic goddess is happy.

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Word play

Since I would like to write more, I pay attention to grammar and sentence structure although it  may not always show.  The other night, we watched an older movie entitled “Proof”.  This is an Australian movie starring a young Russell Crowe. (I wonder who added it to our Netflix list?)  Original music was provided by Not Drowning Waving. That group’s name really got me thinking and I ended up googling (I am sure this is a verb by now) “I’m not drowning, I’m waving” and
“I’m not waving, I’m drowning”.  Although the same words are used, the difference in meaning is profound.  One is happy, the other sad.  One is cute and the other is desperate.  It’s amazing what a little change in the order of words will do.

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move on back two squares.  We watched a documentary about Bobby Fischer last night and it revealed how devastating mental illness can be.  World champion chess player ends up as a raving, psychotic, paranoid anti-semite/american who actually cheered on 9/11.  Horrible.  The soundtrack included this old song by Yes.  I could identify and sing most of the words to the song but couldn’t correctly identify the artist.  I realize this is largely due to my switch to digital media and this is a group whose works I only had on vinyl and then they slipped away.  To repurchase or not?  That is the question.

I am lucky enough to only work one day a week and that day happens to be Monday.  So I  experience the somewhat universal “oh it’s Sunday and I have to get ready for work tomorrow” but by Monday evening it’s Friday and the weekend begins! I think I may be living the theory of relativity, time dilation or the Lorentz-Fitzgerald contraction.  My week’s relative length may change.  Does it pass more quickly or more slowly?  Am I aging more quickly, like the brother who is left on the ground, while his brother circles the earth (or more slowly)?  Or do I just have too much time on my hands?

Move on back two squares.

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Studies to restate the obvious

I am preparing for a medical recertification exam and am reading reams of information about menopause.  Some studies have amazing observations. Here are two which come to mind.

Menopausal women who drink small to moderate amounts of alcohol seem to stave off osteoporosis.  However if they drink too much they fall more, so in the end they have the same amount of broken bones.

Tim was reviewing my material as well and he came across this astounding fact. Women without partners have less sex!  Pretty blue berries

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