I'm between freelance gigs at the moment, the kids are off gallivanting with friends and girlfriends (says she as she blesses herself and launches into the tenth decade of the rosary), and the pup has boarded himself into the closet after hearing mention of thunder in the evening forecast. I should be hanging the pictures I've been meaning to hang for two years, sanding the table that I've been meaning to finish sanding since I decided to rough it up before a New Year's party, or writing pitches for articles that I've been meaning to pitch for-ev-er. At the very least, I should probably tend to the dishes in the sink.
Instead, I've been pottering about the interwebs all afternoon, questioning if Fairy Cakes really have to have raisins because I'm not feeling the raisins, and wondering what kind of bra I should wear with that white dress I got on sale last week.
I suppose Rome wasn't built on a Wednesday.
I spent fifteen minutes trying to remember the names of these infamous 80s Irish gangsters ... before I realized that the names are printed at the bottom. In my defense I was viewing on my phone while wearing sunglasses that sometimes fog up when my brow overheats. Should you suffer a foggy brow: Cornelius the Crow, Flaherty, the Plonsters, Bosco, and the Tongue Twisters (shudder).
via Hairy Baby on FB
Sign up for a clean green Ireland at Origin Green, BordBia.
I spent much of the afternoon skipping about the blogosphere like a well-flung stone on calm waters. Noted:
Helen James' personalized wrapping paper
GoIreland's infographic of Irish family names
Joanne Hynes' suggests for shopping in Galway
Pol O'Conghaile's 50 Free Days Out in Ireland
I'm obsessed with finding an army jacket at the moment despite the fact that it is too many degrees to count here. All I can say (to rationalize jacket thoughts in bikini weather) is that one has to be armed to combat aggressive air-conditioning. I used to live in an army jacket in secondary school (in fact, my mother used to say that I'd be buried in it) and I can't believe that I let that much-loved jacket go AWOL.
Angela Scanlon's post on army jackets (from back in March--see why I got nothing done today? ages to catch up on) reminds me that I need to sign up, fall in, and get my camo on. I'm also reading The Things They Carried (it's on my son's reading list for Summer, and I read what he reads so I can catch him out for not reading) which means, among other things, I will pay particular attention to my accessories.
Follow-on note: Blanaid often has army jackets in her Shutterbug store like the one pictured above. I know I could prob find one stateside but Blanaid has a great eye and I have a great need.
I love when a book I want to read has a cover I want to look at. Writing the Irish West by Eamonn Wall examines seven contemporary Irish writers—John McGahern, Martin McDonagh, Tim Robinson, Richard Murphy, Mary O'Malley, Moya Cannon, and Sean Lysaght—in their west of Ireland context. It'll look great on my bookshelf.
Speaking of bookshelves ...
... once I finish diddling here, I will spend the dredges of the evening wondering if I am cool enough to have a black/charcoal-grey/dark wall with black/charcoal-grey/dark bookshelves. That should get me to Thursday. Where I will be very productive. I bet Rome was started on a Thursday. (Oops, sorry for draining your Wednesday).