youngraven: (cuppa)
Nosh
Tonight's enchiladas went well enough...I tend to think they were a bit dry, and perhaps I shouldn't have waited to add the sauce. I was a bit worried that I'd scorch it, but...upon further consideration, I don't think I'd have done. Flavour-wise, it all came together well, and there wasn't terribly much assembly involved. I'd do it again. I've got all of the ingredients to make another batch, so it's likely I will do it again, and soon, providing something else doesn't come to my mind to try with it all first. 

Brain
I've got 'The Girl from Ipanema' cycling its way through my grey matter, thanks to being 'kidnapped' to Rio on Facebook. 
Sing it with me:
Dark and tan and 
Young and lovely the
Girl from Ipanema goes walking
And when she passes each one
She passes goes 'Aaaaaaah'. 


Or something to that effect. I could go and look up the proper lyrics to it, but Shan't Do. So. 

Puzzlement
Why does my formatting disappear whenever I do something new to my entry? Seriously. If I change a heading to bold, and then later some text to italics, the bold goes away. It's mad. And a puzzlement. And annoying. 

Aeroplane
I should be packing up for our trek out to Atlanta for the fact-finding phase of Project Peaches. Instead, I'm drinking in the bar and writing journal entries about things I should be doing. I should be doing the washing up as well. 'Cos...I'd rather not leave it as it is for the weekend. It'll take over the house and drive the cars into a tree. The same tree. At the same time. Shaddow and I have bought identical rolling rucksacks for ourselves. They're quite clever, and we're rather pleased. They'll serve as a place to stash clothing and a laptop bag. They're grand. They're blue. 

Peachy
The fellow from Promove wrote to me again. I gave him the short list of places I'm going to have a look at this weekend. Perhaps that'll get him off my back. Ha. I keep re-thinking what I should/shouldn't want to take with me. Nothing I'd want to bring back, I'm thinking. Large things, I mean. Art supplies, clothing, bodhran, that lot - sure, I'll be bringing that back with me. Furniture, on the other hand...Jesus, why do it twice? I had thought that I'd take nothing at all, and find things there via charity shops and Craigslist, now I'm wondering whether I shouldn't bring a few things that Orion Rising could do with replacing (or without altogether). Of course, it isn't as though we couldn't sell or donate those things here... I need to take a decision one way or the other and quickly. By Monday, I'll say. 

Ceol
I've found another seisiun at a place in Douglasville on Wednesday nights. I think this one will be a bit more like the Gilligan's one. I can go and play there, and then go to the Fado one to listen. I'm not terribly keen on showing up to Fado without an invitation. Rick did say that he'd make a long-distance introduction, so...perhaps I needn't worry, and that would mean two seisiunna I could play every week. :D

That would be grand. :D I practised a bit tonight, not my bodhran playing, mind (which at the moment needs the most work, argh. I've hit a wall. There. I've said it - I move past it now), but practise all the same. My voice is squeaky. Much in the way a capybara's might be.
'SQUEAK.'
'Alright, I believe you.'

Sort of thing. 

Orion Rising
Is it mad of me to want to clean the place up spic and span before I go? Seriously? Am I making strife for myself? I'm thinking in the future to the holidays, and when I'll be back, and how I'll never want to have to fuck with it then, and...various and sundry other things, 'cos my time will all be compressed, and the filing's a bit mad - and can you see how frenetic this sentence has become? Sure, right. :| I'll have to make a list, I will. One of things to do and things that I shouldn't be bothering with. Packing should be on that list. Can I tell you how little I wish to take on that task? Seriously? Good God. 


So. There's where it all stands. I suppose I should go and prepare for tomorrow. 

Slan go foill...


youngraven: (Default)
Nosh
Tonight's enchiladas went well enough...I tend to think they were a bit dry, and perhaps I shouldn't have waited to add the sauce. I was a bit worried that I'd scorch it, but...upon further consideration, I don't think I'd have done. Flavour-wise, it all came together well, and there wasn't terribly much assembly involved. I'd do it again. I've got all of the ingredients to make another batch, so it's likely I will do it again, and soon, providing something else doesn't come to my mind to try with it all first. 

Brain
I've got 'The Girl from Ipanema' cycling its way through my grey matter, thanks to being 'kidnapped' to Rio on Facebook. 
Sing it with me:
Dark and tan and 
Young and lovely the
Girl from Ipanema goes walking
And when she passes each one
She passes goes 'Aaaaaaah'. 


Or something to that effect. I could go and look up the proper lyrics to it, but Shan't Do. So. 

Puzzlement
Why does my formatting disappear whenever I do something new to my entry? Seriously. If I change a heading to bold, and then later some text to italics, the bold goes away. It's mad. And a puzzlement. And annoying. 

Aeroplane
I should be packing up for our trek out to Atlanta for the fact-finding phase of Project Peaches. Instead, I'm drinking in the bar and writing journal entries about things I should be doing. I should be doing the washing up as well. 'Cos...I'd rather not leave it as it is for the weekend. It'll take over the house and drive the cars into a tree. The same tree. At the same time. Shaddow and I have bought identical rolling rucksacks for ourselves. They're quite clever, and we're rather pleased. They'll serve as a place to stash clothing and a laptop bag. They're grand. They're blue. 

Peachy
The fellow from Promove wrote to me again. I gave him the short list of places I'm going to have a look at this weekend. Perhaps that'll get him off my back. Ha. I keep re-thinking what I should/shouldn't want to take with me. Nothing I'd want to bring back, I'm thinking. Large things, I mean. Art supplies, clothing, bodhran, that lot - sure, I'll be bringing that back with me. Furniture, on the other hand...Jesus, why do it twice? I had thought that I'd take nothing at all, and find things there via charity shops and Craigslist, now I'm wondering whether I shouldn't bring a few things that Orion Rising could do with replacing (or without altogether). Of course, it isn't as though we couldn't sell or donate those things here... I need to take a decision one way or the other and quickly. By Monday, I'll say. 

Ceol
I've found another seisiun at a place in Douglasville on Wednesday nights. I think this one will be a bit more like the Gilligan's one. I can go and play there, and then go to the Fado one to listen. I'm not terribly keen on showing up to Fado without an invitation. Rick did say that he'd make a long-distance introduction, so...perhaps I needn't worry, and that would mean two seisiunna I could play every week. :D

That would be grand. :D I practised a bit tonight, not my bodhran playing, mind (which at the moment needs the most work, argh. I've hit a wall. There. I've said it - I move past it now), but practise all the same. My voice is squeaky. Much in the way a capybara's might be.
'SQUEAK.'
'Alright, I believe you.'

Sort of thing. 

Orion Rising
Is it mad of me to want to clean the place up spic and span before I go? Seriously? Am I making strife for myself? I'm thinking in the future to the holidays, and when I'll be back, and how I'll never want to have to fuck with it then, and...various and sundry other things, 'cos my time will all be compressed, and the filing's a bit mad - and can you see how frenetic this sentence has become? Sure, right. :| I'll have to make a list, I will. One of things to do and things that I shouldn't be bothering with. Packing should be on that list. Can I tell you how little I wish to take on that task? Seriously? Good God. 


So. There's where it all stands. I suppose I should go and prepare for tomorrow. 

Slan go foill...


youngraven: (Default)
So.

Anybody here who is also connected to me via Facebook will know that I made an Announcement recently. For those of you not in the know, I'll make it brief and offer up a bit of an explanation.

I'm moving to Georgia in July. Atlanta, to be specific. In short, I was given two choices: redundancy or transfer. After considering (do not for a moment think that this was a decision taken lightly - it was never so; not in the least) the options given me, Shaddow and I decided that me taking the transfer was in the best interests of our financial future.

At present, he will be staying in Texas; that may change depending upon his own circumstances, but for the foreseeable future, we'll be keeping two households. I plan to come back to visit as often as is feasible.

I'm considering keeping a video blog of what I get up to in Atlanta - what do we think of this?

[Poll #1384896]
youngraven: (Boingy!)
[livejournal.com profile] shaddowhoes and my father spent most of yesterday and today installing our new microwave/convention over the range oven thingummy. Actually, they've still got to sort out the wiring, but that shouldn't take terribly long. After that, we began the all-night cooking party. Hurrah!

I'm looking at the new oven now. It's shiny, and stainless, and goes well with our decor. And...I'm feeling a bit like that fellow in 'A Mighty Wind' as he's scrutinising the stage set up.

'Is that...is that a light? [dubious pause here] Can it fall?'

Shaddow and my father have both assured me that other people Do This All the Time. Don't misunderstand me - it's never that I don't trust their work, that's what I do trust. I don't trust the work of the people who built the cupboards in in the first place. :|

For the most part, I've chucked the Let's Be Neurotic About Bizarre Things bit in the bin. :)

Snort. It's lovely - oh the things we will do with it.
youngraven: (slinky)
The good:
Tiffany came round with Tyson (possessor of large vehicle) to fetch the table and chairs we'd given her.

The ouch:
In an attempt to de-tabby one of the chair's cushions, I dashed my hand against the corner of a brick column.

The strange:
In last night's dream, [livejournal.com profile] shaddowshoes and I were making our way towards... some sort of place. I can't recall much of the look of it, really. It might have been something akin to an open-aired beach house, only it was in the middle of a meadow - possibly there were sand dunes. We were going there to meet somebody, that I know. Two fellows having an unsuccessful go at hangliding caught our attention. As we watched them, they crashed rather gracelessly. And then the kangaroos came. The first kangaroo bounded up to them and offered them either a drink or a cigar. Likeyado. They politely turned him down. The second kangaroo offered them something entirely else. She was wearing a Hot Pink!11 terry dressing gown, and did something vaguely resembling a strip-tease. Fluttering eyelashes, off the shoulder, waggling tail - the lot.

Afterwards, [livejournal.com profile] shaddowshoes and I wondered whether one of them mightn't have actually been a wallaby.
youngraven: (Default)
My empire for a pithy opening statement. Janey me. Ain't rocket science, this.

So... )
So there's my weekend, what did you do with yours?

The section heads are all titles of songs. Thursday's Child is by David Bowie, Black Friday Rules is by Dave King and Flogging Molly, Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting is by Elton John and Bernie Taupin, and Every Day is Like Sunday is by Morrissey.

Up. Date.

Jun. 27th, 2007 05:58 pm
youngraven: (Boingy!)
Here are a succession of (reasonably) brief updates. Each will be concealled behind a cut tag. 'Cos. Mangia.

Monitor = Banjaxed )

At this moment, I am perusing a Music Library for a corporate 'film festival'. 'Cos I'm apparently a masochist, I've clicked the 'Celtic rock' link, and I'm listening to one fellow's idea of how that genre sounds. I want to run round in circles and chew the paint from the walls. Thanks very much for listening and understanding.

Keeping up with the katjabees )

Aye. Avast. Et Cetera. )

My car can swim )

In round an hour, [livejournal.com profile] shaddowshoes and I leave for the Police concert. :D
youngraven: (Mr Shamoose)
...with giving myself a list of topics is that at the time, I'd a clear notion of what I might write about.

Pause for brief, silent lecture against the evils of procrastination.

Ha, I say that, but it really only takes a few moments for me to lose my point on days when my brain has got holes in. At any rate, I'd had something entirely other planned for the previous entry - something that might have even skirted the edges of public introspection (shockhorror). So much for that, eh?

I'll talk about the soiree instead.

Yes, there was one, and yes it was grand. I'll admit to being a bit tired and a bit subdued that night, and then I'll blame that on the steady march of time. By half-eleven that night, I longed to make my exit and crawl into my bed. I think I managed that at last at half three in the morning. I remained remarkably sober, so that goes to show you that it's possible. I don't piss my brains out every time we have a do at Orion Rising.

Pauses to gloat for a moment.

My mates are of the opinion that I do often render myself paralytic, and thus I was given no fewer than six bottles of whiskey as gifts (five bottles of the Black Bush, and one of the Clontarf Single Malt). So, you can imagine my aggravation when, upon waking the next morning, I had five bottles of whiskey. Five. I counted. Now then, had it been that a group of people had taken it upon themselves to open said bottle and put it away amongst the lot of them, sure that would have been no trouble at all - it's why it's there. Only I'd have discovered the remains of that the next day (well, unless the poor bastard was so much in his cups that he buried the evidence in the back garden - I suppose if a still sprouts in the next few months, I'll know that this has what has occurred. Have I mentioned that plants hate me?).

Sure, I had it to spare - this isn't about gluttony at all, rather it's about asking me before collecting up something that was given to me and taking it off home. I'd not have said 'no', only I wasn't given the chance to consider it - and now I'm left to wonder who of them I shouldn't be trusting. Orgh. It's a small thing, really, and I know it.

On a mostly unrelated topic, if you find you've nowhere at all to be on the 11th from 3.00pm until 6.00pm, then you can come and gawk at me at Trinity Hall. I promise I'll not lob a cipín at you (not intentionally, at any rate).
youngraven: (orion rising)
Lately, forcing myself to post anything beyond the odd word here and there has been much like pulling teeth - only without the curious smelling gas, blood, and dentist. I think I've been floating along blissfully in the sea of Can't Be Arsed.

There really isn't much use in having a journal if one never uses it, now is there?

So, whilst I'm waiting for [livejournal.com profile] shaddowshoes to make good on his ice cream suggestion, I'm pissing about with my new Macintosh LJ client, and having a go at finding words to match the goings on of the last fortnight. I think there's my trouble, really - none of the words I've got match the events at all.

Cut because I love you. )

Now...it's time for us to be off to our bed.
youngraven: (Mr Shamoose)
I do have other entries to write, but because I can't be arsed at the moment...:D I'm offering a meme.

Borrowed from rowangolightly )
youngraven: (mr snowman)
This year, we agreed to have the yuletide gathering of clans at Orion Rising. The house was still reasonably tidy after Thanksgiving, and besides [livejournal.com profile] shaddowshoes's parents were having a bit of work done on their house. We thought it would make a nice change. It did, and everybody remarked that we kept Ex-Moose very well.

Yes, very well indeed. )
youngraven: (orion rising)
My overwhelming silence for the last few days can mean but one thing: the holiday gobbled (get it?) my brain.

Well, actually it didn't. That line was written solely to release that sad, limping little joke back into the wild. I imagine it'll be swiftly eaten (note, I did not say 'gobbled up') by a passing hyaena. Such is the raw brutality of nature. No, the holiday didn't reduce me into a bibbling thing rocking backwards and forwards in the corner of a padded room, but it did momentarily halt any notion I've had to write about it.

But since we're winding down...

Thanksgiving went over very well - once again we have triumphed in all things turkey. We pwned that silly, flightless bird. Yes. I said 'pwned', and I even pronounced it in my head as though it were a word in Welsh (it comes out roughly to POONehd, which I'll admit sounds rather filthy). It was hideous, it fell nearly apart in two pieces, it was perfect. At Orion Rising, we prefer taste over presentation when it comes to silly, flightless birds, and this one had the former in abundance.

The parents, grandparent, and in-laws arrived in good order, the meal was consumed at roughly the time we'd hoped it to be (which is a feat nigh unto impossible with our clans involved - this alone was a reason for gratitude), and nobody bit anybody (sometimes our cats get a bit excited). Oh, and the pie that was made from the aforementioned PG? Stellar. Better than last year's one easily, and last year's one was notable. This year, I chose organic cream and honey and a pumpkin from a colleague's very own pumpkin patch. I also took a risk and added cardamon - which will now be a staple of the recipe.

There are but very few things that I do well in the kitchen, and the washing up counts as one such thing (when I can be arsed, I should add - eh, honesty), pumpkin pie is another.

So, the annual autumn gorging went over very well, and it ended early enough for [livejournal.com profile] shaddowshoes and I to travel to Englewood for a post-tryptophan, holiday decompression gathering. Good craic. It was a small enough gathering to be intimate, but large enough to be interesting. John B. showed up and told us a delightful story about a fellow who hits his head whilst fetching a lantern off a boat in the dark. The Katzes introduced me to Session beer (it's called 'Session'), and I found it agreeable. I've seen it before, so I know I can find it elsewhere. We played tunes, John told his story, we didn't drink ourselves under any tables. Grand music, grand mates, grand craic - all fine reasons for gratitude.

The next day we spent clearing away the remains of Thursday's feast in preparation for our own little soiree Saturday night (which we'd called 'Autumn's Last Stand' in protest of all of the people who were racing about to be the first in their street to deck their halls. Yes, I realise that yuletide preparations begin much sooner in places that haven't got late autumn holidays, however, here it seems a bit soon). We did our bit of provisioning, tarted the house up (much hoovering did ensue), and the morning turned to afternoon, and then to evening. I was wandering about the house in search of my next thing to do to it, when the telephone rang. [livejournal.com profile] shaddowshoes answered it, spoke with Somebody (I think it might have been Michelle, but I can't be sure of that), rang off, and then told me that there was a seisiun at the Bull and Bush.

So I fetched up my bodhran and my coat, and we ventured off into the night. I'd never played a seisiun there, and I'd heard a rumour that they've got Smithwicks. Sure, I didn't go to play the seisiun merely for the drink. You don't believe me. Well, never mind that, then.

The seisiun was composed of John B, myself, and Andrea Katz. It was polite, tasteful, and regretably hard to hear one another (I'd a woman standing behind me who was absolutely pealling with laughter. I'm glad she was amused, but dogs in other counties were howlling in pain, I'm sure). We played for a few hours more - John and Andrea had actually been at it for a while when I arrived - and then wandered back home.

Hrm...now that I think on it, we actually did the provisioning yesterday before the party (at which the Beer Fairy made a stealth appearance - so we're set for a great while), not that it matters, really. So...right, we climbed out of bed, drove out to fetch the last few items, and then returned home for the last bit of tarting up. We collected up wood for the fire table, made the rubbish all disappear, hoovered again (which seems strange, we mustn't have done the day before), hid all of our filing, and I'd begun arranging a fruit tray when Chris and Michelle drove up with the margarita machine (which is still full of green shite and tequila - argh). We got that installed, did various and sundry other things with hors d'oeurvres, began mulling the wine, people appeared and it was a party.

The guests were:
Chris and Michelle, Candace and Toar, Michelle F, John W, John B and his friend whose name sounds like Sarell, Linda K, Adam, Mark and Becky, Steve and Lisa, Jeff G, Mike, Victor and Eddie and Winter, Donna, Valerie, and Casey. At this point, you might be thinking to yourselves 'hrm...somebody's missing'. You'd be correct. Somehow - and we're not certain how this occurred - Misha and Dayna never got their invitation. Round half-nine, I realised that it was strange that he'd not appeared, and I phoned and left a plaintive, contrite, message on his ansaphone.

He's going to jump on my head Tuesday night, I know it.

It isn't as though he and Dayna weren't missed - because they were missed - but rather we managed to carry on bravely without them (it's what they would have wanted, to be sure), and thus the evening went very well. The fire table completely upstaged the bar as the hot (literally, at times) place to be. We crowded as many of us round it as we could and played tunes, swopped stories, and told jokes. Whenever the fire got low, somebody would build it back up again. It was lovely, and at the end of it, we all smelt of burning wood and night.

After the last people had made their good-byes, we wandered through the house, fetching up the occasional empty beer bottle and rejoiced in the knowledge that we didn't have to do anything the next day.

Only, it hasn't really worked out that way. I got up out of the industrious side of the bed this morning (alright, so it was this afternoon, eff off), and made myself a list of tasks. I've ticked almost every task off of my list, and I'm about to mark another one done (that task being 'egg nog'). The autumn linens can wait, I suppose, and [livejournal.com profile] shaddowshoes has requested no talk of Ex-Moose yet - so those tasks surely will keep. The other task, sadly, is cleaning out the margarita machine. It's standing in the bar now, patiently waiting for one of us to take a thought to do something with it. Sigh. Ah well, eh?

Orion Rising is still very smart looking, I've got the killerest mates and man and family ever (seriously - you lot wish you were me), and for that I'm grateful.

Slainte go deo,
G.

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