Home again, home again, jiggidy jig

Well, by Gob it's hard to excavate the motivation to do this sometimes. I do hope that you're still with us. A wonderful time was had by one and all in Statia. I'll not go into it too deeply right now, but please check out the slideshow in the top right of this ethereal page (hint: click on it & you will be immediately molecularly transported to Monaco).

 Rowan's 6th birthday will be upon us this Saturday and a Birthday Party to be held on the 4th will bring eat, drink and be merriment to our little Cul-De-Sac. 

The party has gotten a bit out of hand in the last few years, 150 (yes, that's right, 150) people showed up last year. You know the story, you can't invite them without inviting those, and on and on it goes, where it stops, no-one knows. It has become, really, a "bring on the spring" festival, complete with rakes of homemade ice cream and hoses & water guns spraying water on those who brought their bathing suits (or their birthday suits, no?).

This, of course if it is not snowing, whereupon less people usually show up (wimps) and we all huddle into our moderately sized living room.

Please stay tuned for a full report with pictures and film.

A Different Paradise

From the shenanigans of the last weekend of ski season inTelluride:

Street Dance


Unicycles


And Pink Flamingos

To the lazy days of the Caribbean Spring, seamlessly we move from one paradise to the next.

Rowan has become a budding naturalist, collecting & naming specimens of all kinds of Flora & Fauna. Our next post will be a scientific wonderland. For now, however, I'll leave it here, things move very slowly here, including computers.

Thankyou for taking part in our latest poll, it appears as though 55% of people worldwide blame Karma for their present situation in life. The results will be duly tallied, analysed and used for various subliminal purposes. Please take part in our new study of Ice Cream tastes.

The Free Box Provides

In our little Town there is a curious item called the Free Box. Some would call it an institution, others call it an eyesore (more on that later...). It has been around since the 80's and has greatly enhanced our lives here.

The Free Box:

Put simply, it is a place where you can get rid of old unwanted things, or pick up old wanted things. Over the years Kathleen, Rowan & I have put it to great use. Our dining table, Rowan's crib when he was wee, various many items of wonderful clothing (including such gems as practically new Patagonia fleece pullovers),

an old Specialized Rockhopper bicycle

and just today, that nice queen size mattress we've been waiting for. Yes, waiting for.

This leads us to the metaphysical levels of  "The Box". There is a common belief that the Free Box exists within other dimensional realms. For instance, if you interact with the Free Box while taking Karma into consideration you will get what you want, in and around when you want it. Hence the phrase, "The Free Box provides". 

One of the main necessities here is that one must not only take, but also give, or you might find yourself shite out of luck when you're looking for that can opener you need. It is important, also, to do this on a somewhat equitable basis too. If you've been taking too much from The Box, you better clean out your closet and throw some of those old polyester shirts in there (polyester shirts are quite popular around here).  

This idea of equitable give and take seems to make the Free Box a strange and insentient teacher of how to do unto others as you would have them do unto you. 

The Golden rule of the Free Box if you will...

Well, of course, there are also the begrudgers. The Free Box has suffered some abuse over the years. The people who don't take their Karmic responsibilities seriously and leave broken things or things that are just plain useless there have made it a bit unhappy to go there from time to time, but there is also a particular breed of person who has a most unfortunate habit of deciding that the dump, or the tip, or the landfill is too difficult to get his or her items to, and drops a large pile of flotsam (or jetsam as the case may be) on the sidewalk by the venerable Box. Of course, other people will use different words to describe the leavings of the ignorant, I will not repeat them here.

Alas, folks, it is my feeling that the tradition of the Free Box will not last in Telluride. But for now, it still lives and that is all we can hope for. Tomorrow is a myth. 

Do you sing?

I have been singing this lullaby to Rowan since he was wee:

It is a beautiful but sad song, he requests it often, although I can't sing it with the dreamy harmonics. Time was that I sang it every night to him in the rocking chair, now I sing it to him only when he asks. I know the time will come when he will ask for it no longer and I'll say things like "I used to sing this beautiful lullaby to you" and he'll tell me to be quiet. Or maybe not; the point is to cherish these moments. Sometimes he will get upset if I don't feel like singing him a lullaby and he'll say, plaintively, " but Dad! if you don't sing me a lullaby, I wont have any dreams!". 

How is a person to refuse?

We were swimming last Sunday at the hot springs in Ouray, (pronounced you-ray) Kathleen too! her first major outing since the meningitis debacle. The wee lad has become a fish, like this one:

Apparently there is an Elephant motif today. 

It is a constant wonderment to watch this boy grow up and become an entirely new being on a regular basis. It is clear to me that there are so many things about him that are fundamentally different then even 6 months ago. Does this happen to us too? Or are we stuck? All the cliches that I remember of Grown Ups not seeing the things that the children see, the Faeries, the Magic, have become true. I feel that it is important to strive to take the things that seem frivolous to us but are very important to our children as seriously as we can. Daddy's bank account just doesn't really mean anything to a six year old.

Really, I just wanted to show off my knowledge of ancient Disney musicals...

 Kathleen seems to be close to 100% better, she has been taking care of herself, not working too hard, (imagine!) and letting me do most of the housework, which I do, grumbly sometimes (imagine!). She is back up on her feet & back at School part time, much to the relief of her co-workers and students. Teaching however, is tiring for the post-fevered brain and she has still been spending a lot of time in bed. 

Resting.

Playing Scrabble. 

And Boggle. 

On the Computer.

Please don't leave without taking part in our scientific survey which you will find in the right-hand column of this venerable page.

Thank you.

Those were the days...

When I was a kid they didn't even have helmets.

My Dad (the older guy)

Not only did we not wear them, but much to my Dad's horror, (and I'm sure to my Mum's as well, I just never remember her telling me that my bicycle was a "death trap") the bikes we rode had no brakes. This was somewhat understandable, at least to us young lads anyway. The bicycles we had were a mish mash of banged-up old frames & parts that we'd salvage from the dump, the "tip" we called it for no reason that is clear to me at this stage of life, other than that is what it was called in Dublin.

The lack of brakes was not much of an issue for us, it kept our Mothers wondering why the middle part of the left sneaker was always the first thing to go. Sticking one's foot between the back wheel & the frame, while not the quickest way to stop your bike was certainly effective and made for a wicked skid...  

In fact the only time I remember injuring my head was a time in Blackrock Park, a lovely place a wee bit south of where I lived. There was a playground, see, and they were putting new playground equipment in, one item of which was a long, skinny metal slide that had not been installed to completion, which meant that the end had a nice rise, just enough to kick you up & out for a perfect landing in the pond. Let me tell you right here that the idea that kids see people like Evel Kinevel and try to do what he does....  it's true. 

Don't let your children watch television, any of it...

So, the story ends with me reaching the end of the slide with not quite enough speed, and falling off with the inevitable  bicycle following me through the air and landing on my head. I had to get a stitch. It was quite traumatic.

So, the moral of the story folks, is: never let your kids out of your sight while in Dublin.

First Bike Ride Of The Season!

I asked himself if he wanted to go skiing yesterday, no says he, let's ride our bikes into Town.
A Man after my own heart. So we took some footage, here's how it turned out:

Try tuning in to the only Irish music show on our local Radio Station KOTO fm

hosted by meself & to be found from 2:00 to 4:00 Mountain Time every other Sunday. 

Today is the first time in years that I'll be spinning tunes this close to St. Patricks day and contrary to popular belief, I'll neither be drunk, nor will I be eating Corned Beef & Cabbage, or drinking green beer. 

A Happy St. Patrick's Day to you all.

Spring?

The snow is rapidly turning back to water & buds are appearing on the trees. It's almost enough to fool us into believing that Spring has sprong. Other signs: there are neighborhood kids playing in our cul-de-sac, bicycles are being brought out, tires pumped, and off season vacation plans are being traded like Baseball cards. Utah? Mexico? Cost Rica for some surfing?
Us, we are heading off to a wee Island in the Dutch Antillies called Statia
to climb volcanoes, bask in the sunshine, swim with the young lad and spend some good time with Tom & Erna.
Kathleen is feeling much better, walking around the 'hood, not spending quite so much time in bed. It is good to have her back, it felt like she left for a little while. Hopefully that is the last we'll see of the demon Meningitis for good. We have hired a Ninja Squirrel Soldier to protect her & are confident in his ablity to at least scare off anymore invading viruses....


Here's a Haiku:
Spring has not quite come
Snow competes, and wind banishes
Thoughts of summer