Day 256 July 29, 2008

Another day and another Yummy Mummy lunch: this one had three Mummies; three babies, a toddler, my friend H (who the others think is ’secretly’ pregnant) and then me. I’m grateful for their friendship, I’m grateful for the great food and easy conversation; I was entirely charmed by rediscovering Groomsport beach through the eyes of a two year old: and that much of my day was spent with a baby in my arms is beyond blissful.

But (and yet again I am a shame to my feminism)I wish I could quiet the voice inside my head that worries the only children I’ll hold will belong to other people…I know that I can and do fill my life with all sorts of wonder; that not everyone gets the husband and the babies and the typified life we’re probably conditioned to aspire to; on the majority of days I accept that I will be the exception to rather than the rule…but today I wanted what the others had and worry I’ll never be happy without it.

Days 254 and 255 July 28, 2008

#254

Jazz, a picnic that included homemade Brownies, a little wine (so much for that plan then) and Mum: Mount Stewart on a Sunday is busy but bliss; and a little bit of sunshine: so good for my soul.

#255

Many moments of bliss:Spending last night at home, a catch up with Big Sis and beginning a new book that I’m loving already, coffee and scones at Eden Pottery as Mum finished work early and an evening warding off the ‘Where is the summer going’ blues by doing a little catch up by Facebook and text. Tomorrow a ‘To Do’ list await.

Day 253 and a question… July 26, 2008

So this staying home and taking it easy thing…how many days before it becomes a rut? Another cycle of the staying up too long, getting up too late: achieving little with my day beyond computer spider solitaire and a few more pages of a book I can’t quite decide if I’m enjoying…did move my couch attached butt to make a proper dinner though: this is progress.

Also made plans with Mum for tomorrow.

I have a question for you though: what is your view on Internet dating? (Part of my rut shaking has been to once more trawl the world wide web for men.) Is this people taking control; finally realising that the ‘bump into him/her in a bar’ is the exception rather than the rule and are therefore doing something positive to join the masses of their coupled up friends? Or is the work of Desperadoes: the girls/ guys clamouring to the last hope that the process of natural selection hasn’t left them behind (and there are lots of us out there if the particular hunting ground I was prowling has anything to do with it) and are therefore stalking people in similarly sad situations?

Should I let it bother me that, if beyond the sheer miraculous I do meet my Mr Right or even Mr Right for the next while that the source of our meeting, the beginning of our ‘happy ever after’ lacks any romance or spontaneity? Or should I just be grateful for this world of dating opportunity and get out there and play?

More than one question I realise…but I await your answers to them all.

Day 252 July 25, 2008

A very quiet Friday and there was something more than a little sad about the fact that I was having tea and toast at 11pm and not champagne and flirtatious conversation…but I’ve had a good day, quiet and at home, filled with moments of silence which is unusual for me, usually I’ve headphones with either too much TV or the Ipod playing in my head(especially as this noise helps to drown out the insistent dance music of my downstairs neighbour). Silence is rarely golden for me; it leads to introspection and waffling blogs but today I was content to do nothing and contemplate what I will do when I rejoin the world again….

Days 250 and 251 July 25, 2008

250

So, I lay awake for too many hours and realised that the ditzy bimbo of my soul wins too, too many battles; there is little point in my financial re-organisation if I’m going to continue spending with wild abandon…so I had to say no to my ten-day Tenerife escape and make do with the plans already in place.

Today was lovely I caught up with someone I’ve be meaning to see all summer; we walked along the Lagan Towpath, had a quick dinner at Cutter’s Wharf and then headed to her house to catch up with another work friend and drink so much wine that it led to dancing to Whitney Houston in the living room: good for the soul but truly treacherous for the liver.

251

I really can’t believe I’ve manage to lose not one but two days of this week to hangovers; it is bad enough that I do it my own house but to actually take it on tour is just too grim for words…

I’m grateful I refrained from drunk texting and phone conversations; and that I was revived enough to go for a short walk around D’dee and reflect on the night that had been.

Carrie will be an alcohol free zone for the forseeable future…

Day 249 July 22, 2008

A dinner out with JG: Pier36 great food, lovely wine (so much for my non-drinking pledge) and an offer of ten days in Tenerife…is this the ass-kick I need to finally do that school work? Should I channel that money I’ll spend at home anyway into something more worth while? I (if not my ailing bank balance) could certainly benefit from ten days spent reading by the pool (in fairness dragging my lardy ass to a poolside is a little less than tempting).The idea of returning to school relaxed and rested (and bronzed) is so very tempting!

The sensible side of me; so often ignored reminds me of the soaring cost of living and of all the things that remain on my ‘To Do’ list; remind me of the trips to London and Paris not yet fully paid for; and then the ditzy bimbo that really rules my soul says ‘Carpe Diem’; live for the now/ embrace the moment…

Decisions, decisions….

244, 245, 246, 247 and 248 July 22, 2008

Did I just hit publish on another mind-numbing mumbling better kept to myself: quite possibly!

But back to business:

244: a day at home doing almost nothing is hard to get excited about and nothing presents itself as a moment to cherish: I should really get those books out and remind myself that I have a job.

245: An impromptu coffee with Big Sis that also included Mum; to be honest though I wasn’t a huge fan of our chosen location; but was good to catch up.

A ‘quiet’ hen night: turned out to be just that; with two pregnancies and three new and therefore breast feeding Mummies seem to emphasise my increasing drunkenness and yet again someone should have confiscated my mobile phone.  Clearly drinking for four should shared out amongst the masses; it was good to let off a bit of steam.

246: Less steam would have been better: I’ll never learn that my body takes cold and cruel revenge when I try to poison it. The only merits to a hangover is that it eventually fades…

247: Good to wake up and not feel as if I’m dying and headed for hell…good to go home and eat ‘real’ food…not so good that my late night reading (a gripping autobiography: I’ve submitted Northern Irish politics for yet another Obama epistle: feeling I needed a little at home patriotism; I was worried that my tuneless humming would start to attempt ‘America the Beautiful’) has crept into the small hours and my consqeuent awakening somewhere around lunch.

248: I was invited to lunch at a friend’s house. A rambling, beautiful bungalow that has all the character of an old quaint farmhouse and none of the draughts. A girl I’ve known forever and ever; who has just had her second daughter a month ago. Another friend from forever was there with her 6 month old daughter. This was female bonding at its finest. The babies were lovely and momentarily hushed the ticking of my clock: I sat in quiet awe at how G managed a house, a 2 year old and the constant breast feeding a new baby demands. My long afternoon turned into an invitation to stay for dinner (I need at least three weeks notice for a coffee guest); a hard working husband managed to ‘bring home’ and make desert, feed L her dinner, reconnect with with the baby, do the dishes, entertain both me and the other guests that ‘called in’ and eat his dinner before heading ’back to do a few things’.  I started to wonder what it was I did with my time…

I’m blessed by generosity and hospitality; and by the easy friendship of those I’ve known a lifetime.

A digression, a confession and a re-assessment. July 22, 2008

So I’m back: a little shame faced and still searching through my own confusion.

Having re-read my last ‘365′ entry at various points over the past few days it took all of my less than considerable will-power not to delete it; that I did ‘fall in love’ with the delectable Mr Butler during last week’s movie moments remains as true now as it did then, but what I’m less sure about was my decision to ‘publish’ what really amounts to the silly confession of a lonely girl on a forum where the world can see it.

To delete number 243 would be to present a less than truthful account of myself in this journey of self-revelation; but all this pondering did lead me to realise that Carrie could definitely benefit from a little or a lot of self-censorship. And this realisation has forced me to consider many questions:Do the innocent bystanders (my family and friends) deserve to have the minutiae of their lives presented through my less than focused gaze? Do they even care? In a world where identity fraud is all too common-place, when every tiny detail of our increasingly electronic lives is up for public scrutiny why do I still seek the limelight?

Would I care about the reams and reams of pointless, silly, over-dramatic words I’ve committed to internet paper if I didn’t know that people I respect and need to respect me were the reading audience?

And the answers?

I like to write; and I love to read the writing of others. While Carrie O’Hara 365 was in its infancy; I thought that at some point it may  act as an account of a year; significant or otherwise that at sometime; perhaps many years from now, I would read again and rediscover my moments of madness and of magic. I enjoy the dialogue; the comments from one blogger to another; that I’ve ‘met’ an ever growing list of blog acquaintances and rediscovered ‘lost’ friends is to the credit of blogging. That I’ve discovered an (almost) daily discipline to commit something to paper is somehow also in a self-serving way meritorious. That Carrie’s real blog has given me an opportunity to write at length, almost regardless of the lack of merit in its content, is something I’m unwilling to walk away from.

Nothing that I’ve written in my 365 is untrue; there are of course the glaring sins of omission we all commit; and that I wish 243 was one of them may just be a truth I have to deal with facing. I guess I’m now, finally, at the crux of what I’m trying to say: I presented myself with a truth; nothing particularly world-altering or soul changing but less than flattering; something less the woman I’d hoped I was beginning to become and truth and the fallout such ‘revelations’ present are less than glorifying; yet I didn’t delete them; instead chosing to take a moment of self-analysis instead.

These words of confusion and confession would have been better squirelled away in the pages of a hid under the bed journal too….and that too is a truth I’ll just have to ponder; and take Carrie on the rest of her 365 journey.

(Of course it could just be that a girl without the daily grind of work, children and a demanding boyfriend to distract has much too much time on her hands to anaylse the twaddle that resides in her mangled mind!)

243: For the love of Gerard Butler July 16, 2008

I’ve fallen in love…it has happened before…in this same all consuming, stomach turning, seemingly life altering way…last time it was Jonathan Rhys Meyers when first watching Bend it like Beckham. Tonight it was Gerard Butler while watching PS I Love You…I’ve already googled him, with JRM I had to drag myself away from the closeted English department computer, and my stalkerish surfing of the net, to actually do my job and teach a class; that I’ve more month than money is the ONLY thing preventing me from buying Mr Butler’s entire filmography catalogue from Amazon (for the movie buffs amongst you this would include The Phantom of the Opera: a movie I’ve missed to my considerable peril)

 I’d advoided the film PS I Love You as the two reviews I’d read in now forgotten places had totally slated it; EVERYTHING had been wrong with this film. I’d loved the novel and didn’t want it to be sullied by a crappy re-interpretation…but I wanted to avoid another night of box sets I’d seen before so Sky Box Office to the rescue.

It is a chickflick and totally sappy but it is warm, emotional, poignant: the soundtrack is full of songs I loved (perhaps a trip to Amazon is in order?): in fact that MY leading man had a sexy Irish accent and a heartfelt, soul searching, singing voice made for much of his charm.

In the absence of a real-life counterpart; spending the night in the company of this particular leading man is the best ‘date’ I’ve been on in quite a while.

238,239,240,241 and 242: A life Reily could be proud of… July 16, 2008

For the love of Lily T…

#238

I’ve been a terrible cousin of late: my decamp to D’dee meant that I was no longer ‘just down the road’ for impromptu babysitting of  W and K. I hadn’t even seen either of them since Christmas (They said it had been,’Years and Years!’: I like to encourage their love of the dramatic) I happened to be at ‘home- home’ on the afternoon Uncle J phoned to need a babysitter: Mum and I were able to organise ourselves to allow  ‘Mummy and Daddy’ to go to a wedding.

I’d forgotten how much I love spending time with them both: how comical and innocent their view of the world is and how affectionate they both can be: K with her knee snuggling and endless desire to be cuddled; W in a much more reserved and serious way that makes his hugs moments of fleeting pleasure.

I thought Kung Fu Panda was WICK!

#239

An early start as Mum had to work and W and K were still at her house…way too much Scooby Doo (I was never a fan) but some lovely art work/ colouring in; and a great story about a sheep dog but it was high time for some serious playtime…

S and P had invited me for ‘cocktails’ this could have meant half the world would be at their place; or that the that I would be expected to party until dawn at some obscure club; instead it was my favourite third option: drinks and endless giggling at their place; just the three of us.

The cocktails were to die for (although P’s measuring was OVERgenerous) and the unveiling of the chocolate fondue fountain to belatedly celebrate my birthday was made all the more splendid by my acquiring a brand new handbag as well. It had been too long since I’d spent ‘real’ time with these warm, loving and truly witty guys. The giggling was no doubt ’spirit fuelled’ but the affection real…

#240

 A late brunch and a decision to brave the North Coast, we walked the very crowded Portstewart strand, S won an absolute fortune in ‘Phil’s of Portrush’ and I introduced the boys to the splendor that is Ramore Wine Bar (initially a  bad idea: given the fact that neither of them have any patience and have a need to be treated like Princesses by wait staff: but the true glory of Ramore cooking made listening to the tantrums worth it).

And yet even as the Atlantic Coast’s greatest applauder today’s moments were found during the journey: S had given me a pamphlet to read by a charity called Soulforce; its esteemed writer Rev/Dr Mel White wrote with insight, simplicity and knowledge about the complex and difficult issue of the bible and homosexuality. I know that his words had brought S closer to a point of re-finding a faith he constantly seeks; and it helped me; the spiritually ignorant, find important answers.

#241

We were unwilling to relinquish our holiday feeling…and decided to make use of P’s familial connections; he is the son of a farmer whose diversification project was a caravan/campsite over looking a lake. We spent a fortune buying bubbly and barbecue food before we left: the view alone worth a lottery win.

I also got to meet P’s Mum: a character in so many of his stories and one that has been considerably undersold.

Lily: you were right caravaning was the bliss you promised it would be: I see wheels and maps and various sunsets in my future.

#242

Our “romantic” row-boat trip upon the lake was funny only in the retelling: a choppy lake and reluctant rowers are not the stuff of Mills and Boon.

It was time to call it a day; time to re-discover the feel of my own bed; time to give P and S their relationship back. Home to unpack, have a bath, catch up on ‘my’ programmes through the pleasures of 4oD (and therefore to cry through ‘my’ first ‘Civil Partnership Ceremony’ on Brothers and Sisters)and to Rupert Penry Jones on the cover of this week’s Radio Times.  Life is good.