bourbon and chocolate.

i'd like to commit literary suicide.

despite my epic past of ONLY having had sex with musicians after high school, there were ever only two rock stars that i would marry. rivers cuomo or dave grohl.

disclaimer: i have a far cooler husband than these two fellas thrown together in a smoosh of rockerly awesomeness.

things i never thought i'd think, let alone say to another human being:

"well, you're ears wouldn't be itchy if you stopped putting pears in them."

"how much time can i spend with my finger in someone else's mouth?"

"did she poo? how much? normal looking?"

"i bet her first word will be 'tool'."

i had a discussion with a friend recently about the degree to which my Self had changed since becoming a mother.

now, i try with most of my energy to subscribe to the mantra, "My children need an interesting mother." and so, to the degree, i read things that are not parenting books. i enjoy a good game a scrabble. i travel. i am married to someone who is a decidedly handsome and inspiring man as well as being an incredible father.

what has changed?

in short, my time. i have none of it. time is as precious as money in our household because little one works in her own mysterious chronology of EatSleepPlay, and infuriatingly enough, this chronology changes from day to day.

where writing postcards, getting drunk on sangria, sneaking into movies on a sunday afternoon, weekends away, and long distance phone calls once lived, an entire new community of laundry, naptime, tidying, nursing, and occasional sleep have taken residence.

what has changed?

priorities, i suppose.

i can't really say without compromising some sliver of hope that remains.

i will remain an interesting person, if for my child's sake.

and realizing my complete lack of writing anything of worth on vox... i'm back on LJ.

enjoy my words.

i remind you all. my journal is now.... http://cailin.vox.com

i used to roller skate to that song.

i'm starting to think LJ and GJ are uninspiring and a bit too reminding of days i spent in high school.

i have followed the easy-interface trend, and i am going to VOX for a little while.

so read this, and maybe i'll get a bit more out of it all.

briefly.

we're in dublin. we've been here since friday. we leave on wednesday. woot.

we're having a blast. saw pirates last night. good food. yum.

we'll be in the states on wednesday. more then.

it's our last day in galway, and true to form, it's fuckin lashing rain.

my first one. be gentle.

( a day in the life of errands, moving, and a goodbye. there may be a swear word or two. caution: international postage ahead. )

well damn it all to hell.

doesn't that just bake my biscuit.

i was thinking last night about what i would miss about ireland, what i can find only here, and only in a day in the life of an american in ireland.

a few weeks ago, dobo and i were walking back from the grocery store. it was very windy, and the fog was beginning to fall. we had bought a few things that we could only find by walking to the shop way out past the roundabout, and we were content in our purchases.

now, galway is a nice little city. it's about a 45 minute walk from one side to the other. the westside is the ghetto of galway. well, it's as ghetto as galway can get as it's evolved from a little fishing village. rahoon is the neighborhood in the westside. i lived there when i first moved here. and in the terms of the US, it's nothing to be afraid of but a few punk kids who may make rude comments as they bicycle by. generally the scumbags around here have taken after the real ones in dublin and started wearing cheap looking track suits.

so, we're walking back from the shop, and we hear this music behind us. it's really windy, so we both look around to see where it's coming from. as we wait to cross the street, this guy in a pale blue track suit (do i dare call it powder or baby blue?) walks between us to wait in front of us, showing off his hardassness by waiting off the curb. that was not the funny part.

the best part was that he was caring a boombox (also known in the states as a ghettoblaster) up on his shoulder.

tracksuit. boombox. i think he was even wearing a kanga hat type thing.

now, generally, what would you imagine to be coming out of that boombox?

take a minute. close your eyes and think of what you would hear in your head to accompany the image of a young man in a track suit, kanga hat, and white tank (wifebeateresque) to be playing, nay, blasting from his ghettoblaster.

i bet you wouldn't think that this young hooligan was blasting irish rebel songs.

but, i must tell you, that this rahoon waster was indeed ghettoblasting irish rebel songs.


only in ireland.

only in galway.


(for those of you unknown to the irish rebel song culture... rest assured it's not for ghettoblasters)

more often than not in this town, i find myself looking for good asparagus.

i know. i know.

but we really dig on asparagus.

i told you i would post a picture of our dog, dinner.




that's him. we won him in a charity raffle at the rock bar, sally long's, here in galway.

next week, he will be donated to barnardos, the charity for the welfare of children.

say hello to dinner when you see him from the street!

another weekend come and gone. the clouds keep moving over galway, and we don't really have much to say about it. slowly realizing that i have few and far between friends here in galway, much less ireland, and i've getting fairly frustrated with the whole 'i'm at home' mentality.

in a nutshell, i'm kinda bored and lonely. i feel like i've been in a waiting room for the last two months. i suppose i have, in some manner of speaking. everything's put on hold, and everything has been in someone else's hands. now, it's all been handed over to us, and while we're overjoyed, we're a bit overwhelmed with all the planning that has to be done.

between trying to get plane tickets for a brief apartment hunt/job interview session in denver to trying to get our resumes up to speed to packing all of our belongings in our heads to try to get them to denver to trying to arrange yet another party but in the states.... the list goes on and on. you could say that it's all piled on a bit thick for us right now.

we just need a little help and a little time, but it seems as though there's nothing anyone can do.

as though we've heard it all before...

i petitioned and gathered my body weight in paperwork to get my husband a visa, and we got it. woot!

the interview was a little intimidating, but it turns out that the consulate is scarier in theory than in real life. he had a real 'somebody else's uncle' kind of quality. the more frightening person was actually the clerk who checked and sorted all of our paperwork before the interview. she was less of a friendly uncle and more of a grimm's fairy tale creepy but harmless supporting character. she asked me for forms, which is what she's meant to do, but to ask me for them by the numbers on the forms is presuming that i not only studied every little bit of type on each form but memorized them as well. i think she got a little impatient at first until she realized that i had over prepared and gotten twice the amount of information. then she lightened up a little bit. the whole thing took about half an hour. but we had to wait two hours for it to be printed with nothing to do but read travel guides on idaho, the economist, and a bike magazine which was three and a half years old.

but then it was ok, and we got to do a little dance and eat broccoli and goat's cheese wraps. mmmm.

and we have just purchased our plane tickets to boston. as of the 12th of july, dobo and i are on our way.

22nd of july is a big old party, wedding style, at my parents' house.

first week of august, we housesit for said parents.

second week of august, we move to denver.

by god, that's a lot to happen in two months time.

on the subject of exboyfriends, for whatever reason that i will not expand upon.

fun-filled trivia:

*did you know that one of my ex-boyfriends actually found it necessary to tell me that he, in fact, did not love me? out of context, it seems about par for the course if someone has indeed implied that they may think you to be in love with them. i did no such thing to said exboyfriend. this was his explanation as to why he and i could no longer have sex (after a good two months worth of romping in the proverbial hay). oh yeah, and because of god.

here's a rule for the lot of you single boys: if you haven't said that you love her, she doesn't assume anything but that you don't love her. there is no need to degrade her by explaining it.

*did you know that more than one of my exboyfriends refused to call me his girlfriend until we had an explicit chat about my opinion of "boys can be sluts, too"?

*did you know that i've been cheated on more than once?

*did you know that i used to avoid bringing one of my exboyfriends to shows because i didn't think he understood the kind of music i was into?

*did you know that i've been dumped in front of twenty good "friends" who all knew it was coming?

*did you know that one of my exboyfriends urinated on an appliance of mine?

*did you know that one of the guys i dated broke my door down when i locked it?

so many of these things sound horrible when taken out of context, and i used to live life trying to keep things in context and convincing myself that i was a good person. i've been lucky enough to never have been hit by a guy. i've been lucky enough to stand tall through any emotional or verbal abuse. every guy i dated was awesome in his own right, and we used each other to learn more about ourselves. just seems as though with nearly all of those past relationships, my guts were used as guinea pigs; his remained intact.