I can’t keep it in. So, when I go running I’m all about the friendly smile and ‘Hello’ to passers by. Why not? But last night I’m all Baywatching towards a rather dapper gent. I lift my eyes, produce the pearly whites and give as good a ‘hi’ as you can when you’re short in the breath dept. BUT while this is all happening…the opening bars of the below start on my iPod! YESSS! Hahaha!!! God bless the playlist Gods. They’ve some sense of humour.
I am feeling simultaneously victorious and nervous that it’s February. Springtime is here and the evenings are about to get super stretchy. Fantastic.
But with Spring comes a few things that I’m not too delighted about. 1. Not getting any kind of Valentine surprises and 2. the constant presence of chocolate. Once again I will have to quicken my pace as I pass the confectionary aisle and focus on fruit and veg. I need to stay strong, I can DO this.
Then, when Easter Sunday arrives it’s gonna be curtains for anything with a cocoa content.
I knew I loved you before I met you
Isn’t it amazing how you can love someone you’ve never met? Like the person who once walked into a kitchen and said ‘OK everyone, I have an idea. I know cheese isn’t exactly the healthiest thing and deep frying it probably isn’t the best idea, but hear me out guys…this is gonna be awesome!’
Everyone’s Gone Skiing!
Except me. What a dose. There’s not even enough frost on the driveway for me to kick it old school and slide down on a bin top. Or biscuit tin lid, you know who you are. Ah sure I’m not complaining too much though. I dont need it to go sub zero. It would totes cramp my style. I did go skiing one time. Kind of. Cross country skiing. Now, my friends who ski, is that like Ross Gellar saying he’s a doctor in an emergency? Anyway, off I headed with my ear flapped hat, red face and beige wet pants (hottie alert) ready to take on the world. I glided here, I glided there, I face planted into the bushes and a wonderful morning was had by all.
Top that ski trippers 2012!
I’m Dreaming of a White Ball Gown
Well it’s more of a cream colour but oh. I am really having a tough time coming to terms with the fact that this dress does not belong to me.
OK, You Know the Feeling
You’re waiting for someone to call or text. Someone very, very specific. The phone beeps, your heart leaps…’Hiya (insert relative of choice) oh no I’m great, everything is fine. How are you?’
Can be ignored by lashing on some of the fake stuff.
And rocking a Fauxhawk. Why not?
It’s so Cooooold
Ohhhh my God. I can’t even begin to consider how to deal with the weather. It’s not even that cold yet but I am fairly miserable. Chocolate has made it’s standard seasonal comeback as my chief frienemy causing my clothes to shrink and my skin to make its glorious return to the 90′s when all I had was the unrealistic belief that tea tree oil worked. It’s drawing board time and my only possible solution for this is sport. I’m going to give hockey a lash for the winter. I remember being useless but always enjoying it. I wonder if they do pink shinguards?
I am recovering from my Paris adventure last week. I just love saying things like ‘Well last week….in PARIS.’ Oh I’m so lame.
Anyway, I went to Premiere Vision in Parc des Expositions to have a look at fabrics and trims for my business. It was truly epic. The size of the place and the amount of stuff was overwhelming. My eyes were killing me by the end (but that could have also been the heavy rimmed nerd glasses I don’t need to wear but wore anyway to make me look serious) The show really highlighted the detail that goes into every piece of clothing. From fabric, to labels, to ribbons, to buttons, to hangtags, to that little piece of tartan inside your shirt collar, to printed logos, to thingymajiggy’s and so on.
Off I went anyway to each massive hall taking in colour trends and everything I could find for inspo. It was so cool. I felt rather uncool in my conventional clothes and in a paranoid panic felt that someone somewhere would be thinking ‘Oooh, I know where she bought that top, I bought that fabric.’ One victory though was being communicated with in French all the time and 38% of the time understanding and communicating back. Yesss. I’d say it was the Breton stripes I brought with me, I like to rock those bad boys on the reg.
I did pick up some great fashion and style tips from just staring open mouthed at everyone as they milled around touching fabrics and scribbling furiously in their notebooks. I do however need to run a few extra miles this week to fit into all the fabulous clothes I’m thinking of rocking this Winter and at the next PV, I really overdid it on the food front. Mmmmmmacaroons.
À bientôt Paris. Thanks for having me.
I Am Getting Very Excited
I can’t even deal with my excitement about the Olympics. It is one of my absolute favorite things ever and I just can’t wait to see who will emerge victorious. I am a huge supporter of Team Ireland and do NOT even start me on Katie Taylor. I heard today that she will be holding the Irish flag in the opening ceremony and I am not ashamed to say that this could make me cry. What a moment that will be for her and all of Team Ireland. Honestly though, I haven’t been this excited about an Irish Olympian since shouting the TV into oblivion whenever Sonia O’ Sullivan appeared on it. Honestly, I don’t know if I will be able to watch Katie Taylor’s fights for fear I might explode. I need to stop writing. Too excited.
Come On Katieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Pizza Found Me
And Chips, and Southern Fried Chicken and the 5 tubs of garlic dip that arrived with the Pizza. No it’s not part of my ‘Usual’ order. Ok it is. But I was catching up with my dear friend Laura. I hadn’t seen her in just under three years so what better way to relive our glory days than to order up a takeaway storm. It was brilliant to catch up and relive all the embarrassing moments/crushes that only a true friend can remember and bring back to your attention (cringefest 2012) I missed Laura so much when I was away at sea and just as I imagined, it was like I never left. So this Sunday I have a warm fuzzy feeling in my belly as well as enough Pizza to get me running a good few miles this week. Oh it’s good to be home!
So I Sent it in. The Application
I always wanted to do it. As in, like I always wanted things like water, food, you know, that sort of stuff. But oh the fear. The fear.
Well this fear disappeared when my sister recently recalled a conversation she had on her 28th birthday. There she sat in a London café, fork in hand, ready for some guilt free birthday cake action, blissfully ignorant of the incoming verbal bomb her friend was about to drop on her; ‘Happy 28th Birthday! You can no longer enter the Rose of Tralee….ever.’ Frozen to the spot, the world caved in around her as it all sunk in. The dream. The on stage witty banter with Gay or Marty or Ray or Daithí or whoever, loving her fellow Roses and the fun they had, complimenting her escort on a job well done. She saw it slipping away from her like the pair of high heels she would have kicked off before performing her Irish dance on the night. And just like I felt when William married Kate, she died a little inside.
Well, if I never felt inspired, I did then. With the shaky hand only a 27 year old checking the age limit for Rose of Tralee entry could have, I looked at the website. Absolutely brilliant. 11days inside the cut off.
So I’m in the running to become the Cork Rose 2012! And I am so excited. I can’t wait to meet everyone and see what it’s all about. If I meet any of you on Pana, in Mahon Point or Douglas Court and the likes and your fingers and toes aren’t crossed for me, I won’t be angry, just disappointed! Ah! Wish me luck!
The Hills Were Alive
All I wanted was to be a nun. Imagine, get all dressed up in the rigout, get up on stage with the rest of the chorus line and you’re golden. That was for the schools production of ‘The Sound of Music’ in case you’re wondering. I levelled with my music teacher ‘Look Miss. You know what I sound like. Please just make me a nun and I’ll save you from another audition.’ But alas, no. We all had to do it. Allerge! So up I got in front of the Music, French and English teachers and gave ‘Summertime’ my best Pop Idol rendition. My eyes definitely closed at some point. Second audition later I lined up with the blue uniformed team and waited for my turn to see it; my name in lights on the A4 paper. Wait…wait…’Nuns’ I wasn’t there! It couldn’t be right. The world could never be so unjust. ‘Ok,’ I thought ‘Time to warm up the recorder.’ Then the strangest thing happened. The girls started to congratulate me. I was like, ‘But I didn’t make it,’ so I looked again. Oh dear, doe a dear, there I was, Captain Von Trapp. Previous productions flashed by. Grey make up, lead roles must SING, in front of PEOPLE, in front of BOYS, Oh Nooooooo, RIMMEL MOUSTACHES! My street cred hung in the balance (What little shred I could possibly have had as a gangly 17 year old) So, like the Junior Cert, I gave it my best shot. And it was so much better than I thought. Leaving maths class early for practice, first years thinking you’re a lege, avoiding the solo of ‘Edelweiss’ by agreeing to become ‘overcome with emotion in the first line,’ the craic with the girls and the joyous delinquency of escaping the make up department and rocking a smoky eye and pink cheeked make up palette. I do recall being named ‘The Prettiest Man in the Play.’ So what originally seemed like a bit of a dose turned into one of my fondest school memories. You just have to see these things as a drop of golden sun, climb every mountain and then it won’t feel so bad! Yes! That just happened!
Size 8? Not Yet…
So, I finally listened to my friend Carrie Skinner. She runs fitness classes and I joined in on one for the first time on Friday. Now, even though I’ve been walking like John Wayne for the last few days I am so excited to have awakened these complacent little muscles from their smug nap time. I have decided to dedicate an hour every Saturday to attend a session with Carrie. I will call it “The Weekly Body Blitz.” And in the spirit of a challenge I will take a photo of myself every Saturday to chart my physical progress through healthy eating and exercise. I might even do a little before and after blog if I’m feeling brave in a few months. So far the challenge includes horse riding and class with Carrie. But I will say this, you can take my burgers, you can take my chips, but you’ll never take my Dairy Milk! I’ll just eat less of it.
It’s simple. Your either do it or you don’t
Recently I have begun to lament these days when sweating and winning were all I wanted to do and Mars bars and Lucozade were all I wanted to eat (and I did). Nowadays I will barely get into my car if I have to brave the five second walk in any kind of precipitation.
I have really missed the great outdoors, the camaraderie, the epic banter of champions, the fearlessness, the horrific nicknames and the overall joy from doing more than work, tv, think about work, occasional gym, solitary dog walks while thinking about work, hanging out with friends, bed. God, I sound sad.
So now, here is the challenge. Stop thinking about it and bloody do something. I’m not too old, I can get fit and strong again, waking up early won’t kill me and I can do it. Starting with…..drumroll…….horse riding. I am going to get myself into a lesson, I will get my Lady Gaga on and poker face my way around the arena. With a tilted helmet threatening to cover my eyes I will bounce away on Misty Starshine while little eight year olds have a right laugh into Mr. Fluffy’s mane at the old wan. Yes, time to dust off the jodhies, borrow a hat (I gave mine away in an ernest moment of “My life belongs to rowing now. I will never ride again.” There was definitely some thunder, lighting and rainy windows in the mix) and find my illusive boots that are around SOMEWHERE!Ill let you know how it goes. My arse hurts already!