The Winners Are....

Let me introduce my niece Ellen's two adorable children, Juliette and Harvey

Eyes closed and twirling the names around before

And  now Harvey pulls the winner out of the bowl.

Though my camera blurred the name, I think you can see it is KarenG

  

 Olive O'Brien of Write Olive clocked in as follower 100 and KarenG of Coming Down the Mountain: From Reclusive Writer to Published Author won the copy for commenting and advertising this contest. So there you have it. Signed copies of Barbara Kingsolver books will be put into the post. Congratulations and happy reading.

On another note I want to thank Stephanie Butland from Bah! to Cancer, and the BBBB Brilliant Book Bonanza.  Stephanie picked my name from a hat or bowl and sent me a signed copy of 'Going Dutch' by Katie Fforde, which I read and thoroughly enjoyed while on holiday in Portugal. Thank you Stephanie.

"IF"

If is an obstacle,

that stands in your way,

and If it wasn’t for If,

you’d be happy today.

often recited by J. B. Nagle

I have searched the internet in an effort to discover the origin of the verse above but have been unsuccessful. So, I credit it to my Grandfather J.B. Nagle. Jackie as he was known to family and friends. If you are familiar with this verse and its origin, please let me know.

Proverbs spilled from my Grandpa's lips to suit all occasions and occurrences. "If" is a particular favourite of mine. It has stayed with me throughout my life. To this day I hear Grandpa’s voice whispering it in my ear whenever the "If" word dares to raise its head in my thought system.

What brought this to mind? I attended a Creative Writers Workshop given by Irene Graham in Glendalough, Co. Wicklow a few weeks ago. In one of the lessons she told us, every story line boils down to a proverb. For example: All is fair in love and war; To thine own self be true; All for one and one for all; Beware of Greek gods bearing gifts; Don’t judge a book by it’s cover, etc.

This concept was a revelation to me. Why had I never thought of it before? I spent yesterday searching the internet for proverb sites. There were lists and lists of proverbs to read. I smiled at some of the obscure ones. Proverbs I had not heard since my teenage years and almost forgotten. With these obscure proverbs came Grandpa, sitting in his big winged back chair beside a blazing coal fire, puffing his pipe and nodding his approval. What a sweet moment!

I now read books trying to determine the proverb. Will I use my Grandpa's verse for a story? Yes, I am sure I will. But only "If"

Stalked By A Story

Last week, I had friends in for dinner. As the wine flowed so did the conversation. Friends since school days there were reminiscences of first loves and mad capers. Remembering those, we haven’t seen in way too long and those who died way too young.

Being of a certain age, the conversation eventually turned to the triumphs and disappointments in our lives. Our worlds no longer viewed with rose coloured glasses. Each of us accepting in varying degrees life’s disappointments. Coming to terms with the glare and harshness of our individual realities. Some of us spoke too much, some too little.


As the night wore on, it suddenly dawned on me, I had written a story about my contribution to the disappointments in life, remembering I stored it on an old USB. The next day I searched for and found the USB and discovered the story. On reading it, I surmised it was a perfect example of free writing. In other words beyond terrible!!!


So, I did a bit of tweaking here and another bit there and before I knew it, I had spent the best part of the day working on it. I woke the following morning with revamped sentences rolling around in my head. I worked on replacing my passive “to be” verb sentences all day yesterday. Turning them into rip roaring active sentences. Going back to it again last night. This is how I have spent the last four days.

I woke up this morning at 5AM unable to get back to sleep due to new pesky active sentences swirling around in my head. Are they good sentences? I won’t know until tomorrow morning. I would like to leave this story, but it refuses to leave me. So I guess I just have to stick with it until those refused to be ignored pesky active sentences stop waking me up at ungodly hours in the morning.

Yes!!! Readability Statistics informs me I have 0% passive sentences in the above.
I must be learning something!

100 Follower Contest

Let me say first, my excuse for seeming lax in the comment department of late is, wait for it, my computer. It is so slow that writing a comment is taking what seems like forever. I can boil the kettle, make the tea, wait for it to draw and pour it, before the comment window comes up. Once I type my comment and click post, I have time to go off scouring the fridge for chocolate or cake as I wait for the verification window to appear. I have washed a sink full of dishes while in the process of one comment. In some cases by the time I have gotten to the comment box I have forgotten the witty little ditty I planned to write and end up with boring lifeless “Good Post.” Geeez….I am suppose to be a writer; you would think I could come up with something better than that.

Moving right along, last week I was thrilled to discover I had 90 followers. Yes, 90!!!! Big grin on my face. Had my time finally come for a 100-follower contest? The following day, as I pondered the contest question, I checked my blog and grin was wiped off my face. I was back to 89 followers. Did I jinks myself? Is this a new trend? Who was it, I wondered  clicked the notorious un-follow button! I couldn’t tell, because my computer will not load visuals, pictures etc. I was in the dark…which is probably just as well because I might have stalked said lost follower in an effort to discover why they had abandoned me.

Today I am back to 90 followers again and even as I type have acquired my 91st follower.  I am now feeling confident enough  to introduce a 100-follower contest.

On Monday night I attended a talk given by Barbara Kingsolver in DunLaoghaire, Co. Dublin. I have a signed copy of “The Poisonwood Bible” and “The Lacuna” to give away. One will go to, fingers crossed, follower 100. The other will go to a follower who leaves a comment here and advertises this contest on their blog. Names will be drawn from a hat or maybe a bowl. Haven’t worked out the finer details yet. Contest ends August 4, 2010.  It is a short one, due to  fear I may become overly attached to these signed copies!!!

I would like to say a big thank you to all my followers. I really do appreciate your wonderful kind and supportive comments. Thank you for sticking with me.

A Different Kind of Birthday

Today is my birthday. Old Kitty at Ten lives and second chances, also celebrates her birthday today. Pop over and say hello!

This time last year I was in Florence. I spent my birthday walking the Boboli Gardens and the Pitti Palace. I received text messages throughout the day from husband, children, sisters and two close friends. I felt loved, as I soaked in the beauty of those breathtaking gardens and reading my text messages. Later that evening I went for dinner to what had become my local restaurant, Antico Fattore. Roberto the maitre’de took charge. I was led to what had become my table. Roberto snapped his fingers and the waiter Joseph appeared with a half bottle of Chianti.  My usual, which Roberto poured for me with a flourish. It seems my Florentine landlady; Rosella had told them it was my birthday. Did I feel like a princess? YES!!! After the royal treatment, I headed to an open-air performance of Carmen.  A memorable birthday, a dream come true!



Today will be different. After I try to tame my wild, unruly hair I will slap on some lipstick. Then I will take the lilies I have cut from my garden and visit my mother and father’s graves. I will thank them for bringing me into this world. For giving me life! I will thank my mother who one day a very long time ago, held me in her eyes and said, “A good and happy life is waiting for you, Ann. I promise.” Her conviction resonated in my soul and stayed with me. Today, I will thank her for giving me that precious gift of surety, as I reflect on the numerous blessings life has afforded me. Especially those pictured below.

          Thanks Mom!                  

Guest Post for Olive!

Olive O'Brien asked me to do a guest post for her blog Write Olive.  Needless to say, I was chuffed to be asked, yet nervous at the prospect.  After all I am an "unpublished writer." A state which doesn't lend itself to an abundance of confidence.   I doff my hat to Olive's bravery!   I hope you find my meanderings adequate for Olive's wonderful blog.

Pop over to Olive's  blog, Write Olive,  and check it out. 
Have a wonderful Monday!

You Have to Laugh Really!

Cartoon by Cathy Thorne

For those of you who don’t know me, this little tale might seem unfortunate. It might even glean a smidgen of sympathy. For those  who do know me, it is just another episode in the life of Ann. And as usual, you may smile; laugh even, while shaking your head in wonder. The simplest of things tend to become very complicated in my world …

 I arrived home from Portugal yesterday to find my car was dead. To be precise my car battery was dead. I was not fazed because I have a battery charger, which I attached and waited, as one does. After what I thought was adequate time to charge the battery, I sat into the car and turned the key. I needed groceries. I cleaned out the fridge of all perishables before my five-day sojourn to Portugal.The car coughed once and returned to its comatose state. I was going no-where. Checking the charger I discovered its fuse had blown. I disengaged the battery charger, closed the bonnet, and retreated back into the house flopping on the sofa in abject defeat. Later scouring the cupboard I found four chocolate goldgrain biscuits and a packet of crisps. Dinner!

With the new dawn, defeat was shaken off and I was ready to tackle this dead battery thing again. I walked into town and purchased six fuses just to be on the safe side. Today was market day in the square and I purchased a few tasty treats for myself. I thought I deserved it.  When I got home after changing the fuse in the charger, I again connected it to the car. Sighing with relief, came inside made my first pot of Barry’s tea in a week and a plate of my tasty treats with brown bread. Proper dinner!


After what I thought was ample time for said battery to charge, I went outside to give it a try. Did you guess…"Dead Jim," as Scotty would say to Captain Kirk! I had made arrangements to meet my sister-in-law, Breda in town for coffee and a chat. I was walking again. I consoled myself with thoughts of, this is good for me, look at all the exercise I'm getting and it is a beautiful fresh sunny afternoon.

Now I brought my notebook computer with me, because I was also having an issue with that. But hey, one issue per post!

I related my long-winded dilemma to Breda and her husband Hank. Hank said he had jump leads and would be happy to help me out. I was thrilled. Things were looking up again.

The car had to be moved out of the driveway to attach the jump leads. All went very smoothly. Jump leads did their job, car turned over. I closed the car door, put it into gear, pulled out into the middle of the road and it died just as Breda and Hank rounded the corner and out of sight.

Next issue! I tried to call Breda on the mobile phone, but for some peculiar reason I kept getting the signal you get when dialling incorrectly. Keep in mind here that the car is still in the middle of the road!!!! Frustrated at this point, I put it  into neutral, and tried to push the thing into the driveway. Needless to say, I did not succeed.

Time was marching on and I had a ticket for a cinema screening of an opera that was starting at 7PM. I couldn’t leave the car in the middle of the road and go to the opera. I ran down the street and knocked at  Joe Foley's door, a friend of my husband’s family, who owns a garage. I gave him a quick synopsis of my dilemma. He very graciously came up to the house and jumped the car again. It worked again. He then connected my little battery charger with its new fuse, telling me it would take about three hours to fully charge.

By this time it was too late to go to the opera. So with a sigh of resignation, I gave up that ghost. Joe called back three hours later to see how things were progressing charge wise.

Tomorrow morning, he is calling at 9:30. He will jump the car and follow me to the garage so I don’t get stranded. The time has come to pull out the big guns!!! You have to laugh really.

My Uncle, My Mentor

Last week my Uncle Pa died. As I made my way home from Dublin after his funeral and burial I was overcome with memories of the man who helped and guided me through those perilous years, between fifteen and nineteen. Remembering how his shoulders shook, rising and falling in quick succession as he laughed at my jokes and listened to my stories. The man who tapped the base of his pipe into the palm of his hand to loosen the tobacco ash before empting the contents into an astray or  the fireplace. The man who drove his green Volkswagen down from Dublin every Friday and back again after the tea on Sundays. This man was my mother’s brother, the second child in a family of six.  She was the youngest of the family, he was fifteen years her senior.

My mind flooded with memories of the January we moved home to Ireland. Pa met us in Shannon. Looking back now I don’t know how we did it, but somehow my mother and all four of us kids managed to squeeze into Pa’s little green Volkswagen, with near on a dozen suitcases strapped to the roof and bulging out of the boot. It was a long tedious journey from Shannon to Dungarvan after our transatlantic hike. But we survived it and arrived home safely.

The next day my mother brought me to the same convent she had attended. I sat in the convent parlour as Reverend Mother, Mother Alphonsus and my mother discussed my future schooling. I was to be placed in the inter-cert class. The Reverend Mother insisted it would be a pure waste of money for my mother to pay the £20 late fee, allowing me sit the exam with my classmates. After much toing and froing, it was decided the discipline of the exams was the best course for me.

When we arrived back to the house, Pa asked how it all went. I jubilantly told him I was starting school on Monday and would be sitting the inter-cert with the rest of the girls in my class. I noticed his eyebrows rise slightly as he took the pipe out of his mouth and examined it intently.

“Is that right now?” he said as he looked over my head towards my mother who just smiled back at him.

He turned to me saying if I was determined to do this, he would gladly help me. I beamed with joy. He was in my corner.

I said, “That’s great.  I am going to need all the help I can get. I have about 1200 years of history to learn. A rather intense English program to tackle. Not to mention Irish geography.”

I know it was a bit cheeky, but hey I was a teenager!

“Well that is one tall order,” he replied.

Let me add, this was the first week of February and the exams began the second week of June.

“I suppose we better make a start. Well Ann, can you tell me where Kerry is?”

Delighted with myself I replied, “County Killarney!”

He smiled weakly, looked at my mother and said, “We have a lot of work to do here.”

The word that warmed my heart in that statement was “we”. Uncle Pa had decided right there and then he was with me in this. I wasn’t alone. At that moment I believed I had this inter-cert thing under control!

That very afternoon Pa drew a map of Ireland, divided it into the four provinces and at the side of the map listed each county under its province heading. I was to learn the spelling of each county and where they were located on the map. I was read about the lives of Robert Emmet, Daniel O’Connell, and Charles Stewart Parnell and write an essay on each for the following Friday. And so began what became the pattern of my days with my Uncle, my tutor and my mentor. I went to school from 9am – 4pm and then attended study from 5pm-7pm, Monday to Friday. I arrived home from study and after a cup of tea and quick bite to eat resumed my studies until 11-11:30.

Pa arrived home about 9pm on Friday evenings. After a cup of tea I would sit to the table with him and hand over all the written work he had assigned me the previous weekend and then discuss any problems or questions I had. Our routine was study and tutoring on Saturday afternoons from 2-5. This was the time my inaccuracies would be addressed. Then working on the next chapter of history from the books he had gotten to supplement my schoolbook. Sunday afternoons from 2-5 were spent exactly the same way. Sitting at the kitchen table with my uncle surrounded by books learning another chapter of history and more geography before he headed back to Dublin that evening for another week. I did my daily schoolwork and Pa’s weekly assignments. He gave me his weekends in order to allow me fulfil my desire, to do the inter-cert. He guided me and prodded me and sometimes he got frustrated with me, but even in his frustration I felt supported. He never made me feel like I was wasting his time. His time was my time.

Pa took holidays during exam week. He revised with me, prepped me and supported me. When I arrived home after completing my history paper, we went into the sitting room and he closed the door. He paced the length of the sitting room as I related the answers I had given. He didn’t say one word during this time. When I finished, I nervously looked up at him. He had stopped pacing, his eyes were moist, and he took both my hands and pulled me up off the sofa and gave me a big bear hug. I knew then and there, I had passed my history paper. I cried with relief and joy, I had not disappointed him.

In loving memory of Patrick J. Nagle.

Book Review of Sorts

I was suppose to read and review a book for my blogging book club,co-ordinated by Lily at Lily's Blog. The book in question, "Let The Great World Spin," by Colum McCann.  This review was supposed to be posted by June 2.  But alas this has been a dead week for me with regard to reading and writing.  I bought the book with the intention of reading during layover hours and my flight.  As often happens in my world, things do not pan out as planned. 

By departure day, I was exhausted.  As those of you who regularly read my blog know, I normally don't work on Fridays.  But on the Friday before departure there were a few pressing matters that needed to be sorted requiring a few hours in the office.  On Saturday morning much to my horror, I discovered half the work done on Friday, was done on a newly defunct computer system.  Had I been notified...I don't think so. This notification seems to have fallen through the cracks. Anyway, I went into the office again on Saturday for the re-dos.  Once that was done, it was time to bring Louie down to Ciolagh and Kevin for his holidays.  A  two hour round trip, which was spent going over lists in my head.  Remember to bring this, remember to do that, remember to write that cheque...well you get the picture.

Sunday was spent packing and cleaning.  I hear voices singing out in unison, "cleaning"  I know you might find that strange, but nothing depresses me more than to return to a messy, grim house. OK so the house is clean, the cases finally closed and the alarm clock set for our early morning departure.  Book is at hand.

All went well, flights were on time, no security delays but when I opened the book the words were all a blur.  As the day wore on the blur became more blurry.  Resulting in no on flight reading. 

A few days after I got home, I met  up with a friend and the conversation turned to books.  I told her I was about to embark on this book by Colum McCann, "Let the Great World Spin."  "Oh," she said, "that was a brilliant book.  I just loved it.  So vibrant. It just drew me in."  "Great," I replied, "I am really looking forward to getting stuck into it!"

My big chance to get into this book came last Tuesday, with a four hour bus journey to Dublin to meet up with fellow blogger friends, Barbara, Brigid and Theresa.  I pulled the book out of the bag and read the first 30 pages and yes it was a great read so far.  Then somewhere behind me, a fellow bus passenger started eating a very strong smelling sausage sandwich.  A rush of nausea flooded over me.  The words began to blur again.  I put the book back into the over sized handbag.  Oh well I thought, there is always the four hour return journey later this evening.  All is not lost. 

My bus left Dublin at 6PM.  I was delighted with my day in the Pale.  It had been a day of great company and chat.  I took out the book and began reading.  I got to page 35 when the girl sitting directly across from me pulled out a shopping bag and threw up into it.  With a sigh, the book was closed.  I spent the next 3 3/4 hours hoping said girl and her shopping bag would be getting off at each and every next stop.  She didn't.  She got off at the stop half a mile before mine and left the bag containing the contents of her stomach behind. 

Now my feeling is this is a very good read, but at the moment the gods, fate or whatever you want to call it is against this book and I connecting.  So I have my bookmark at page 35.  I have highlighted the last paragraph I read and will put it aside for a week.  At which time, I will take the book out to my sunny conservatory where the only smells are of roses and lavender and enjoy what I have been assured is a wonderful read.

A Bit of a Moan!

I am so out of sync I can't think.  I am still trying to figure out if I am coming or going. This morning was the first time in almost a week that I actually put pen to paper and wrote words. Real Words!  I have not read the words I strung together this morning. So they may not make any sense whatsoever, but at this moment in time, I am just thrilled I got words on a page. 

Oh the great news in my little world....Remember that phone call (scroll down to see the photo)my girl got the day of graduation, the one about an interview!  Well interview is done and dusted. She got the job and is now an employed pharmacist!  Yeah!!! and Yeah again.  Clapping and jumping up and down, big grin on face.

Next, the flight.  What can I say.  There were no delays.  A good thing.  The volcano decided to let us pass.  Another good thing.  Then there was the not so good things! The flight attendants on our transatlantic leg left a lot to be desired.  The service was crap!  To put it mildly. A drinks trolley was nae to be seen before the meal service.  So no water or wine or before dinner drink to be had.  The meal placed in front of me, didn't have the usual little cup of water either and there was no protective covering on the sad wilted excuse for a salad.  Which after very little thought I decided was safer left untouched.  More than 20 minutes after the meal was served, cold tea and coffee was brought around.  I know many of you drink iced teas and coffees but I do believe this was supposed to be hot. It was the first and last time a drinks trolley rattled down the aisle.  It was also the last time I saw a flight attendant.  The flight was smooth and arrived on time, this being the most positive thing I can say about this particular transatlantic experience.  Which when all is said and done is the most important thing.  But hey a drop of water wouldn't have gone astray.  So will I lodge a complaint?  I have yet to decide.  Complaining is not really my forte!  Stop shaking your heads in disbelief. I should refrain,  lodging a complaint where it would do the most good is not my forte.  Another little quirk of mine.  I am more inclined to moan and moan and moan until I bore all around me.  Are you bored yet????