No relation to what this blog is about, of course. But I'm just trying to help.

Image:  Uragh Stone Circle, County Kerry, 2007.  This file is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 License.  Source:  Wikimedia Commons.

Anyway, beautiful day along the sunny shores of Lake Michigan. A nice lake breeze helped keep the temperature in check. The first group we listened to was Blarney, a 3 piece band that performed folk songs, drinking songs and sea shanty tunes. Entertaining. Here they are:

The next group was Leahy's Luck, a traditional type of Irish band. Sounds like they are all related. Entertaining. Marc Roberts was next - loved his voice. His entire set was John Denver songs and he sang them beautifully to a very receptive audience. The Irish Fest brochure says Marc was one of 6 finalists in Eurosong 2008, whatever that is. Then we went thru some of the exhibits, our favorite being the tent w/ musical instruments for sale (drums, whistles, harmonicas). The drum class was already underway so we were not able to participate in that. Sat by the lake with a gorgeous view of the Calatrava and Discovery World Museum. Decided we should get something to eat, but I guess Ireland isn't known for a great selection of food. I had a turkey sandwich. Come on Irish Fest, lets get some tasty food here!

Here is Marc Roberts:

Next up was a group called Trad on the Prom - WOW! Excellent! Go see them! Here is what the brochure says about them: "Comprised of some of the finest Irish musicians on the scene today, Trad features the talents of Mairin Fahy, soloist with Riverdance and the Chieftains, and her brother Gerard Fahy, multiinstrumentalist and director of Michael Flatley's Lord of the Dance. The NY Times proclaims it as 'Irish music, song and dance at it's best.' We agree. It was phenomenal. Five musicians and periodic dancers, such as 2 teen brothers who won some kind of Talent contest in Ireland, and some man who was the lead in Riverdance. Excellent show. At one point, the dancers were in the crowd performing. We enjoyed them much more than the next group, Gaelic Storm. We've been following Gaelic Storm since they were in the Titanic movie. I remember seeing them for the first time ten years ago on the small Rainbow Summer stage downtown. Now we can't even get a seat at the big stages, they have such a following. And you know what? I think their show has gotten worse each year. Way too much talking and tying to get the audience involved - just play the music already! They only performed for about an hour and I bet 20 minutes was wasted w/ them playing clips of other people's non Irish songs and telling the crowd to shout and shine their cell phones. It was time they should have used to play their instruments and sing, because that is what they are best at

We dd not get any ideas for new songs. I can't imagine Irish tunes performed on the uke

Pictured below is Trad on the Prom:

Soooooo, with Russia violating international law in just the way G.W. taught them to, something monumental is going on right here at home.

NO, not giant groups of Phelps phans running amok causing riots and burning cars. Swimming fanatics are just not that motivated.

I refer of course to the great Disney Protest. That's right mouseketeers, your busboys and hotel workers are wearing costumes and blocking entrances.

Why? you ask Why why has this horror been rained down upon the American Dream? Have we not suffered enough?

Because Disney wants to begin treating them just like every other underpaid worker on the planet. The main issue seems to center around the slashing of their free health care. I repeat, busboys, cleaning women and other hotel workers are receiving free health care. Yeah that's what I thought too.

I work teaching and corralling the potential of tomorrow and I don't have health care at all. Let alone free.

Amid the whining, the Union said that they didn't want to send out the actual character workers to protest. So they sent the hotel workers dressed in costumes instead.

Nothing like getting it from both sides. What I can't believe is that these idiots went for it. This might explain why talks keep breaking down.

The 'House'll keep you posted as this breaking story develops.

Who am I kidding? No I won't.

Dogwoman

Robert Frost sa Bhlarna

The atmostphere stepped up a notch upon the arrival of a group of foreigners clad head to foot in kilts. After closer inspection we decided they were Dutch, or something similar, and to see them singing traditional Irish songs was certainly bizarre, but quite entertaining. See the video below... You will be able to hear Ruby in the background who found it particularly funny and was clapping along with enthusiastic encouragement, despite not understanding a word that they were singing. For her to go somewhere with virtually no Chinese people was a little unusual but she enjoyed herself, and has taken a liking to Baileys now. We had a chat to an Irish expat for an hour or two and i got some advice from him on living in Shanghai. It seems his wife has long since given up accompanying him to such pubs and prefers to stay at home and laugh at him in the morning instead, once he has rolled in, in the early hours. His wife was actually from Chongching, but he was visiting Ningbo soon, so Ruby and I gave a little advice on where he could explore there.

I expect that we will return to the Blarney Stone again but maybe not so often as each pint of Guiness set me back over £4 which makes even London look cheap. Generally pints of lager here are about £2 in bars. For atmosphere alone it was a good decision to visit this pub. I hope the video gets across the fun that we were having.

Earlier that evening we visited Fuxing Lu, part of French Concession for some shopping and then relaxed in a bar called Shining, in Sinan Road. This bar was unfortunately very quiet at the time we went in so we left and headed for Dongping lu. It was early evening at the time, so perhaps this bar gets busier later. It had a nice feel to it with plenty of random pub type things in every free space. Perhaps it will be worth a visit again sometime. Close by we also saw a random funny dog, see pic, which i had to take a photo of. If anyone knows what type of dog this is, please let me know, as i would now love one myself!

I have finally got a mobile phone here and will temporarily post the number on this blog incase anyone wants to text. But obviously the Internet is fall of crazy people, so i wont keep it posted for too long.

On saturday morning Ruby and I finally found a reasonable swimming pool close to the flat. It was a little crowded with kids, but there was enough room to do atleast a few laps and get a break from the heat outside which at the moment is incredible. This pool is only about 80p per hour aswell which is great, plus there is a gym upstairs which is only 30p per visit, which is a bargain. These are only public facilities but good enough to consider. I checked out some pools and gyms at local 5-star hotels but they worked out at around £1,000 per year membership, which in comparison, seems ridiculous.

**** By the way, just a quick note to say thanks for every message that has been left on my blog so far. I love to receive them, and it is nice to know people are reading my nonsense!! ****

Next week should involve two nights out with the company plus at the weekend Ruby and I are hoping to try out a Chinese restaurant that was recommended strongly to us, plus perhaps visit Moller Villa and Xujiahui Cathedral. We are now to watch Mr Bean - The Movie, who Ruby believes looks quite like me :-P

The NDP has more positive news for Limerick.

Co. Limerick  

 ·         Great Southern Trail Cycle Route - Grant aid of 75% of eligible expenditure, up to a maximum of €422,164, towards the development of cycling trails. This funding has been approved in respect of work to:  

 1) Join up the existing sections by developing the 8km from Newcastle West to Barnagh. County Limerick will then have a safe cycling trail from Ardagh to Abbeyfeale approximately 26km in length. While there are minor road cross-overs, the only break in continuity in the trail is a section of about 1km on the N21 at Barnagh due to road developments and the separation of the Barnagh Tunnel. Thus one is traversing a long safe section of non-motorised trail, parallel to the main traffic route to Kerry. The work will involve clearing, draining, fencing, surfacing, bridge-repair, gates, wheelchair-friendly stiles, signage and information boards. The surface will be rolled gravel. This surface is accessible for people with disabilities(easy railway gradient).  

 2) Upgrade the 4km line from Newcastle West to Ardagh with a tarred finish. 

Courtesy of http://www.ndp.ie/viewdoc.asp?Docid=2142&mn=&nID=&UserLang=EN&CountyID=18&StartDate=1+January+2008

I know that my Bono rants are tiring. But he's just gone too far this time. Again.

In a magnanimous effort to still seem hip inside some rapidly expanding and aging skin Bono and the Red(y for this Bullshit ?) Program are launching a DRM free online music store. The B states that the new programs will change the way music is delivered. That's nice.

Sadly, this announcement comes right after he published a letter in NME blaming file sharing and music store deliveries for the downfall of the music industry.

Playing both sides of the field will not make friends among fans of music. And by music I refer of course to those who use instruments that they can actually play, sing songs in tune and don't use drum machines or backing tracks to disguise the fact that they haven't a musical bone in their body.

It was nice of him to laud Radiohead for their online 'experiment'. However, he must be living in a musical time warp if he thinks Radiohead invented the free download. Excellent musicians without huge contracts have been doing this for a while. And they don't throw a tantrum when the music is shared. They know that if people like their music they will come back again and again to buy it.

It is pure excrementum to complain like a harpy about file sharing and then start a DRM free online music store.

Whatever he is smoking I would like some delivered to the Doghouse, pronto.

Dogwoman

We all kissed the Blarney Stone. We all pretty much said we weren't going to kiss the Blarney Stone, but once we got to the top of Blarney Castle, and were inadvertantly standing in the line to kiss it, we felt it'd be pretty silly to not do it. Really.

You have to lay on your back and kiss the thing upside down, after hundreds of grimy backpackers and elderly tourists have done it ahead of you that day. I wonder if they sanitize it after closing time.

The Blarney Stone is supposed to bequeath eloquence upon you, or give you the "gift of gab". We mostly felt like...we'd kissed a slimy rock. We didn't pay to get copies of the pictures.

On from Blarney we stopped at Waterford to tour the Waterford Crystal facility. This, I swear, was the boys' idea.

Waterford Crystal makes a lot of famous sports trophies, and custom makes items for celebrities, along with all the bowls and wine glasses they sell. Our tour guide at one point indicated three shelves holding golf trophies, one of which was missing.

"It was here yesterday, I don't know what happened to it," she said.

Later, at the examples of custom celebrity pieces, she said they used to have Larry Hagman's crystal cowboy hat, but she wasn't sure where it had gone either.

"I'm sure it'll turn up," she said.

We thought about swiping Garth Brooks's crystal boot. They wouldn't have missed it.
 

I signed up for the event a while ago, and didn't really give it much thought until the previous day or two. Then I read Darragh Doyle's latest blog this morning, and it got me thinking about my own body image, where I am with it now and where it came from. I could very much empathise with some of his experience: at school I was the music geek, eschewing the sports I was so bad at, and of course was overweight and endured the usual name-calling. While the weight is less of a problem these days, I would say that along with every other woman in the country, I suspect, I am acutely aware of my ‘deficiencies’ as vaguely measured against the ubiquitous skinny ideal that's so hard to ignore.

Well I suprised myself really, and discovered that I finally am becoming happier in my own skin. I think this has been coming on for a while. A couple of years ago I'm sure I would never have contemplated doing something like this, and have often marvelled at the courage of my two friends who go on naturist holidays (not in Ireland I need hardly add). However a couple of years ago I found myself in a spa in Budapest. People there wouldn't dream of wearing a costume in a spa: nudism (single sex) is the way of spa life. Twice I plucked up the courage to bare all, and found it very liberating, and now wonder what all the fuss was about.

Last weekend I spent about fourteen hours dancing at a Five Rhythms dance workshop, and while I wouldn't say I'm a particularly good dancer, I've always loved it. I found the workshop a liberating and empowering experience, and came away feeling much freer with myself and more confident about dancing and moving my body.

There's a bit of a contradiction here though. As one of my favourite feminist cartoons (and I'm sorry I can't remember who wrote it) reads: ‘now that I'm a feminist I feel guilty about feeling guilty about being fat.’ Well exactly: we can't win, truly. Even the feminist in me can't make the inner critical voice keep entirely quiet. So with two contradictory ideals going on here—being happy in one's own skin regardless of size and shape, versus still wanting to fit in, to look normal, sexy and above all slim—I embarked on today's mass nude event.

I had read a couple of the blogs about the Corkonians' experience, and knew that it was unlikely that the nudity itself would be a big deal once we were all naked.  They appeared to enjoy it to a wo/man, some even likening it to a religious or spiritual experince. Hmmm, I thought, interesting!

Arriving at the site at 3am I was amazed at the number of people who arrived in groups, especially mixed sex groups. I was very glad that I had decided to do this solo (my husband wanted no part of it!) and think I would have been very self-conscious had I been with friends. I had read about all the hanging around so was very glad of my layers of thermals — the best from my recent Pennsylvanian winter!

The atmosphere was one of jollity and speculation as we headed from the car park to the bus and then from the bus to the site of the shoot itself. It seemed, as I twittered, that every damn woman there was young and skinny (feeding into those old fears of course) but as I mingled I realised that it was not so. Phew!

The organisation left a fair bit to be desired. It was good until we got to the pier, but then things became quite chaotic. An information leaflet had been produced but it seemed that only around one in ten of us had been given one. As a result, we didn't know what our positions (sitting, standing, bent over — yes that was a possibility!) were to be. We all sat down as instructed, and I chatted to a couple of groups near me, and it was all very friendly. There was some real eejitery going on though. Several drunks were thrown out, but there were some gobshites left. They talked and shouted every time instructions were given out, so along with the fact that the megaphone wasn't very mega, we couldn't really hear what to do. Eventually we cornered somebody who gave us a bit more of a clue.

The sun started to rise, and it was beautiful. Hey look! we said, it's going to be gorgeous! Then the time came to get our kit off, and as one we all stripped off. Well, not quite as one actually, the group of women in front of me had more sense. They predicted that we'd be hanging around for a bit longer, and of course they were right. Back on with the fleece. One savvy woman had the sense to tie a red scarf around the railing as a landmark for our bags, and I left my black and white scarf sticking out of the bag to help me find it quickly...

Finally the kit came off, just as the sun disappeared and the wind started up, and we quick-marched for what seemed like miles up to the lighthouse on the Pigeon House and beyond. The granite was cold and rough underfoot, and a bit of careful tiptoeing was called for; this was handy enough as it meant the amount of general looking around was limited, giving us time to get a bit more comfortable with the whole nudie thing.  Spencer Tunick was up in a cherry picker with a megaphone and, God love him, he tried to get us to do his bidding. 'Right everybody, face the sun!' Okay, that we could do, though by that time the sun had deserted us and it was getting distinctly chilly. 'Heads up to the sky!' An array of hands lifted to the sun. 'No! Not hands, HEADS! FACES up to the sky!'

The rowdy gobshite element continued its hilarity with what would normally have been regarded as good Dublin wit, but we were getting colder and colder and just wanted to get on with it. 'Please!' pleaded the maestro, 'Please put your faces up to the sky, no don't look at me, please, please DON'T look at me, no, no don't look at me, PLEASE!'—and so on. Two more positions, including lying on our sides in the foetal position ('Please sir! Please stop kicking the guy behind you, PLEASE!') and then we were done. By the end of it we really were bloody freezing. We'd been told we'd be naked for 30 mins but it was more like 45 plus. While it was partly down to lack of information/organisation and a bad sound system, there's no doubt that if we'd been quiet (as I read the Corkonians were) it would have been quicker. I'm sure it would have been much less of an 'oh-for-fuck's-sake-get-on-with-it experience' and more of a moving, beautiful one. That was a shame.

In terms of the nakedness, it really was no big deal, not once we were all nude. It was interesting and of course I couldn't help comparing, as one does (and I did hear that some of the men were relieved at their own comparisons), but it was kinda nice seeing bigger, smaller, more- or less- cellulite, pears, apples, you name it — the whole gamut of human corpulance was there, and I was no better or worse than any of them really. I liked that. I did think I was pinker than many, though by the end most of us were purplish. One thing I did notice was that not everyone was meticulous about their personal hygiene, and that I did NOT like. Ho hummmmm!

Anyway, eventually it was done and back we went to the bags and... panic! 'OMG help! I can't find my bag! It's there I know it's there, there's the red scarf that was here... oh fuck, everyone else is dressed and I'm still naked and there's no bag'... and then one kind girl lent me her towel (I'd forgotten mine and besides it would have been in the bag), and then eventually, finally, 'oh thank Christ, there it is'. Somebody had moved it but it wasn't too far away. God, that was a bit of a moment.  Being naked with everyone else naked was fine, seemed normal even, but being naked with everyone clothed, well that was a completely different experience, and not one to be repeated. Suddenly I was object, not subject, or so it seemed, and it was extraordinarily uncomfortable.

So, we're all dressed and I start to warm up when the crew walk past yelling 'all those for the second shoot go down this way' — er what? Second shoot? It starts to rain. Am I a quitter? No I am not, so what the hell, I'm in.

We were given half-an-hour to warm up before the next shoot. I line up with the others, chat a bit more, shiver a lot more, until finally it's time to move. We find out we're going to be in the sea — yes IN the sea. In the rain. In the cold wind.

Off we go to the site and people are already stripping off, and by now it's lashing down. Clothes off into the bag, trying not to get them wet in the bag, and, ooh ah fuck it's cold, as the rain hits our purpling, goosepimpled skin.

Then a surprisingly-exhilarating moment occurs: we race down the sand towards the sea, arms akimbo and yelling and whooping at the top of our voices: 'Holy fuck! Holy fuck! Jeezus it's fucking cold!' and the air turns blue to match our poor shivering limbs but we're laughing too in amongst the screams and yelling. A superb moment.

Into the sea we go with more holy fucks and jeezuses and eventually we spread out and calm down except for a few feckers who start splashing about: not cool, man, sooo not cool.

And at this point I meet someone I know. She's standing right beside me, we suddenly see each other: 'I know you from somewhere' and look puzzled until the penny drops and we figure it out, and—oh no!—it's a work thing. We laugh awkwardly, trying to keep our eyes on each others faces (I don't succeed; I'm just, er, naturally curious), and she disappears as fast as she can after that. Oops.

Spencer started giving instructions again and suddenly a roar of 'Olé olé olé' went up, and we all joined in and waved at him with both arms in the air, whooping and laughing. I think we all forgot that we were naked actually. Except for the freezing cold wind and rain, of course.

At the time it partly felt a bit tedious. It was miserable being that cold, and before the racing-into-the-sea moment the joyousness diminished throughout the first shoot. But as with the aftermath of singing in a concert that goes well, it's hard work at the time and the high sets in afterwards. All day long I was exhilarated and thrilled that I had done it. I still am, actually, and would I do it again?  Would I heck, but definitely not in Ireland.

Oh, and I'm in that last photo. :)

______________________________________

Photos of nakedness taken from this site, and the others were taken with my lowly Nokia 6300.

Bono wants Africa to create a United States of Africa.

Yeah, and I want Baskin Robbins to start a home delivery service.

The problem that the little man has vastly overlooked, as has his alter ego Jeffery Sachs, is the separatist and tribal nature of many African nations. There are literally hundred of tribes within the African framework and they do not all get along. I don't mean this in a Protestant v. Catholic way either. I mean that they will never get along. Ever. This division existed long before Ireland tossed out it's Druids and gained a snake charmer.

Also, has either of these social geniuses looked at a map?  I am referring specifically to North Africa. I don't mean to be a killjoy here but have they noticed the many stable, productive, countries at the top of the African Continent? Something tells me that Egypt and Morocco are not going to loosen ties to other Muslim countries in order to embrace a chaotic warlord run Sub Saharan Africa. They can't, their ideologies are so different nothing would ever be accomplished.

And I don't think pointing to the EU is a good example builder in light of Ireland overwhelmingly killing the Lisbon treaty.

In fact, pointing to Ireland at all is probably not a good idea right now. Their entire economy was overhauled to mimic a supply side economic reality. Housing went from affordable to outrageous in a few years and the deep social divisions between the poor and wealthy became over- exacerbated. Now with the credit crisis striking everyone who ever had dealings with the United States, Ireland's economy is in a tailspin. Companies are pulling out and jobs are being lost. The housing boom is declining. What has been an economic success for many years is turning into a struggling morass of nothing actually being accomplished.

Is this what Bono the Great wants for Africa? A warring conglomerate of mis- matched countries whose separate and individual natures keep them in a constant state of flux rather than as a cohesive ruling body?

And if they do manage somehow to become a full fledged United anything  who is going to keep the rampant cocaine use and boy racers at bay? Not to mention the self righteous, self indulgent celebrities.

Dogwoman

We spent the night at the bus stop watching the dodgy drunks go home. Lots of hellos and two sets of people telling us to just go to the homeless shelter. It was just a little earlier that a drunk kid stopped his car and leaned out of it with beer in hand as we sat on the side of the road eating some food. He leaned out of the car and said "Eat up ya dirty fuck'n bums" Ian and I laughed of course for he was no more than a drunk. Another group asked for some change and that the girl in the group was hungry cuz she was pregnant. Well she smelt like alcohol and cigarettes, what a great life her kid has ahead. As for the last character we met was a guy, drunk and definitely on some other drugs. He kept hanging out with us and asking the same question... when were we catching the next bus. He was on something for sure. "Tom" was his name, he was dodgy as well. But who cares we packed up and searched out coffee. We walked the town in search of an open store, but to no avail. we walked around til 9 am when the bus stop reopened. We went in when they opened and we used the Internet and drank coffee. The Internet pointed us to all the rooms in Cork to stay. We then went searching but everywhere was filling up fast. We barely found room at the last hostel, the Kinley House. We ate and showered before we headed back out to the streets again, check-in wasn't until later. We decided to look for the anarchist bookstore and collective society in Cork but we had arrived an hour too early. So we made our way to a pub just near by. As we entered an awkward silence fell upon the bar. There were a handful of old men drinking their pints . We felt the tension all over, you could cut it with a butter knife. We walked up and ordered two pints of our own and sat at the bar. The guys st aired at us for a while before returning to ignoring us. It wasnt until a local soccer hooligan stopped in, still piss drunk from the night before did we have a conversation. He started to speak and honestly we couldn't make heads or tails of anything that was coming out of his mouth. It was as if we were speaking different languages. After having travelled to Spain you think i would be use to it, but it was shocking i guess mostly because it was the idea that i understood many of the words but hardly the meaning. We talked to this kid for a while but after our second pint we gave up and went for the bookstore collective. They still weren't open and knowing that anarchist collectives don't always stay on schedules we went back to the hostel. Ian passed out and i went to the common area and made some new friends. I met Laura, Halfdan, and Elise. We all hit it of right away. We sat and watch a few showes before i had to hit the sac... too tired ya see from an all night-er at the bus stop. Ian and I awoke in just enough time to grab a bite to eat then head out with our new found friends on a Cork Pub crawl with another friend who we met from New Zeland. He had been to Cork a few times before an knew the town and best pubs. We met another girl from Brazil it seems to be a reoccurring theme. Her name is Marica and she was studying in Rome... she said we can bum a couch if we make it there. We always like meeting these type of friendly people. We all partied till the bars closed... 12am not big partiers not like the Spaniards. The next day we all got up said our goodbyes to Marica and the Kiwi and then the remaining 5 went to Blarney to Kiss the stone.

We took the city bus there and skipped paying for a guided tour. Cheaper and better. Blarney is a little town lusciously green and quiet. We walked around the castle and rock close spending the whole day in leisure. Blarney Castle is very gorgeous tower located on top of a rock hill. As we walked to the top of the spiral staircases that lined the castle, i could look out ac cross the vast field of green that was rigidly divided and parceled with grey stone walls and vines growing up the side. You feel as if you are at peace and are content at where you are.

After exploring every crevasse of the castle and kissing the Blarney stone...I hear the locals piss on it as well as the number of rumors about it giving you herpes.... i kissed it anyway. I mean how can you have gone to Blarney and not kissed the stone. That would be like going to Paris and not seeing the Eiffel Tower. The rest of the day was spent climbing trees, picking flowers and lunching in the local green. We played Hackie Sac, drank Cider and gabbed all afternoon until the sun began to set. 5 ciders later and 1 bus trip down the road we made it back to the hostel and then to sleep for the night.

I read a news report about a substitute who was fired for doing a magic trick in class. Oh and he let students use a computer. I'm willing to bet he didn't let the students use it, they just waited till he wasn't looking. Or lied to him.

Another Sub was fired for having blue hair.

The charges against the Subs were, respectively, wizardry and paganism.

I find this interesting, considering that Subs are expected to be magical beings who can wave a wand and keep a class of forty two strangers under control while simultaneously getting them to do ridiculous busy work.

The complaints came from parents. Parents. Oh, parents.

Recently, I was redirected to another job at the last minute. After getting into the class and starting my morning walk about, a parent came to the door with two little 'uns and began without preamble to scream at me. I watched and waited for them to take a breath. This took a while. When they finished calling me everything they could think of except 'fine individual', I smiled and said:

" I wasn't here yesterday and I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Aren't you the Sub?"

"I am a Sub, but not the one you are looking for I think."

" Oh. Well my kids" indicating the two children who hadn't said anything thus far, "said he was screaming at them."

I nodded. " Well, you could go to the office and discuss it with them but, right now I have to finish reading the lesson plans. Sorry."

"Right." Then they left.

The problem is that the parents have no idea how their children behave in school. The class mentioned above contains no less than eight conduct disordered and special educations students. I know this because I have spent a lot of time in that particular class. The students don't get away with much when I am there, though they do try. Of course they try, they're kids. And it's ten times worse when a Sub is there. On this day, a student from this class was given a three day suspension. He came back after I sent him to the office and said " You got me suspended." I replied in my best teachery voice, "No, ---, you got yourself suspended by making a poor choice. Next time, think carefully before you act." Which of course was followed by the student yelling "I hate you."  Sigh.

If parents could see what their children really do when Substitutes are in the room, I think the two people at the beginning of the article would still be employed.

Wizardry and Paganism are not really the issue. The issue is parental complaining. If they think that their children are being treated badly they don't stop to rationalize the problem, they just go off. My children, over the years, have come home telling me about a mean Sub and I always ask them what they did to make the Sub mad. Inevitably, the answer is 'nothing". Bull. I know better. And so do they.

In the course of this last year I have been subjected to: Paper airplanes , paper wads, bits of erasers, pencils, paperclips, books and marbles thrown at me during lessons. I have been threatened with physical harm, spit at, screamed at, pushed and physically intimidated. I've been told to fuck off, get fucked, fuck you. I've been called bitch, geek, loser, stupid, dumb, not a real teacher, idiot. These are general education students. Every parents' precious little snowflake treats strangers this way. Strangers, I might add, who have come into the class to help them learn.

So the next time your angel comes home whining about a Sub who was mean, take a minute to think of all things said angel might have done to push that person too far. Everyone has limits, even substitutes.

Paganism and wizardry, my ass.

Dogwoman

If you turned your lights out for an hour on Saturday, I weep for you.

Earth Hour was a sneaky little trick pulled by business entrepreneurs to Brand a political movement.

So was the collection of world wide rock concerts sponsored by the Man in Green, Al Gore.

So is the Red Program

So is any charitable or humanitarian movement in which anyone in a suit whose lips move faster than the rest of them is involved.

Branding is a pandemic.

There is a rush to slap a label on everything in an attempt to market to the overcrowded market. However, if what is being branded is a movement or a humanitarian group or goal, then it's taking the whole point of that movement or goal and flushing straight down the potty. People are fickle and don't really like to be told how to feel about issues. Many of the 'new' movements are emotionally driven. The pros and cons of each should be left up to the individual, not the corporation. It is lazy to allow a politician or rock star or dot com executive to tell you what to think. People should think for themselves. And many do.

Contrary to popular thought, branding things like Global Warming is actually counterproductive. Yes, it gets more attention but it's usually negative attention. Rational people are less likely, despite what slick charts tell you, to engage in an activity that has a corporate brand on it. Those who jump through these politically driven hoops tend to be younger and less focused or older and concerned what others think of them.

Politicians love brands because it tells them exactly what to do. Corporations love brands because they can direct their marketing at target audiences, like children. Everything from music groups to art galleries have hired marketing strategists to create a brand that will get noticed. That's why Amy Winehouse and Lindsy Lohan have recording contracts. They're not good, they're just easy.

I think of it this way. The only thing that should be branded is cattle. And only so ranchers can tell one cow from another.

If the powers that wanna be begin branding things like Global Warming or international charities people will be less likely to take them seriously. It is seen as a way to get the attention of children or the hopelessly insecure.

As for Earth Hour, well uh, my house is always lit up as though the Mother Ship has just landed. I like to think of it as a beacon in the darkness of mooing ignorance that surrounds us all. My husbands thinks of it as a condition called 'Childitis' i.e.: that act of having children who won't turn off the light when they leave a room. Sigh.

Dogwoman

Credit crisis. Rising Gas prices. Rising food prices. Inert and unwilling lawmakers.

These are some of the problems facing America today. While it may seem that these are loosely connected in some vague way they are in fact directly related.

Banks made loans to low income people at what are termed 'predatory rates'. This means that the bank knew the homeowner couldn't pony up the dough and was just waiting for the time they must foreclose. Then they could sell the house to another 'low income homeowner' and start the cycle all over again. Using this method they could make thousands of dollars off one house and the average yutz. Pretty slick. Too bad so many banks started getting in on the action. By using the idea of the American Dream against regular Joes, like you and I, the banking industry has crashed our economy.

It's not just the lending strategy, it's the hiding of assets and debit that has been going on since 2000. The banks have been playing fast and loose with numbers off the books. Things that we never hear about like derivatives and the resurgence of hedge funds and private equity funds.

What puzzles me and makes me wonder is why the Government is bailing out the banks.

The Government should be bailing out the homeowner. I thought is was the general duty of the Government to help those who have been harmed by the amoral practices of businesses which it is supposed to regulate. Like Banks. I had no idea the Government was in place to bail out the banks who instituted these policies after Slick Willy signed Bank deregulation into law in 2000, just before he skated out the White House door. Guess he was hoping we wouldn't notice.

With the credit industry crashing on a global scale NOW bank officers are crying foul. "Oh we should have seen that" Oh fuck off, you did see it, but your profits were more important than those who might be harmed. Like everyone not on the Board.

The bankers who brought you the Savings and Loan disaster of the eighties have now brought you the World Wide Credit Crunch. And they have no plans to change any of their policies once our Fed bails them out.

Thanks to them gas and food and housing prices are soaring because the billions in tax payer dollars that should be going to restructuring programs are going into the coffers of banks. The Government is using our money to bail out the banks who raped our communities. And the lawmakers sit back and yawn and rake in the campaign contributions from these bastards while rubber stamping their poor policies.

Why not? They've got nothing to lose.

I really hate that.

Dogwoman

Zum Glück haben wir uns nicht in die Reihe gestellt um das Dingen zu Knutschen. Bei all den Leuten, die das schon getan haben, eh eine fragwürdige Angelegenheit. (Bild von den Leutchen, die es doch getan haben wird nachgereicht :) )

I think The Irish Blessing will be a wonderful wish that we can leave for our travelers for the years 2008. I picked up this copy at the Blarney Woolen Mills. Blarney is always a favorite stop on the Ireland itinerary. Those who need it want to kiss the Blarney Stone and others spend their time in the woolen mills. This beautiful calligraphy is copyrighted by L. J. Young. I hope you will pick up one of the large copies suitable for framing the next time you are in Blarney.

Happy New Year, and enjoyable travels in 2008.

We got up super early today, around 6. Showered, dressed annoyed the French girls in our room (who were bitches anyway), and set off to catch our bus to Killarney. We were disappointed to see the rainy weather but at least it was on a travel day for us. I was hoping we'd get lucky again though. I guess the luck o' the Irish can't always be on one's side, even while in Ireland! Um, yeah. Anyway, the bus ride from Galway to Killarney was long, four hours, which was the same length of time it took to get to Galway from Dublin. We had to transfer busses in Limerick, which did, in fact, look a little ghetto, as we were told, but not too bad. Fortunately we didn't have to wait too long in the rain, as our next bus pulled up right away. We arrived in Killarney around noon and started to walk. We stopped at a fruit stand and got a few apples and oranges and bananas, and finally made it to our hostel, Neptune's. It is okay, but nothing like Sleepzone. We were truly spoiled there and now I am certain we will be disappointed with every hostel.
It was drizzling when we arrived. We dropped off our luggage but it was still too early to check in. So we sat in a cafe and had coffee and soup and the fabulous Irish soda bread. Then we went to the Tesco grocery "arcade", though not quite as nice as Dunnes, which we love. After we went back to Neptune's and checked in we walked down the street a bit and discovered St. Mary's, a cathedral at the edge of town right across from the Killarney National Park. I love all the old gothic cathedrals, the stained glass, the creaking floors, the worn pews, the old engravings and plaques. Even though I am not a parishioner or worshipper of any specific organized church/religion, I still stand in awe of those sacred places, in awe of the history, the architecture, the amazing faith of those who do believe, and dedicate so much of their thoughts and their lives to their religion, specifically catholicism. I don't understand it but it is fascinating, especially knowing what a huge role religion has played in history.
After we walked around inside St. Mary's we went across the street and through the entrance to the Killarney National Park, where the rhododendrons have overtaken the forest floor, like a contagious cold or disease spreads through a community. It is a beautiful flower, but shades so much of the forest that seedlings from the oak trees cannot receive enough sunlight to take root, and that is jeopardizing the area's eco-system. We watched as workers used chainsaws to cut down the plants, which grow enormous, overwhelmingly so. It is quite an undertaking. We read about how anyone who would like to help can do so in the summer, and only 45 euro for two weeks secures one a hostel and food. We seriously considered staying two extra weeks to do that.
We walked the two and a half kilometres to Ross Castle, or as they say in Gaelic, Caislean Ross. We saw the "jaunting cars", horse carriages, trotting through the park, and even got to pet one named Jessica. She was dripping with sweat. The poor animals pull a cart with as many as 8-10 people. How cruel. Lazy American tourists. Mel

Kenz made dinner. Left overs from last night's pasta with some more fresh peppers and garlic and broccoli mixed in.She wasn't feeling well (uh oh her turn) and went to bed early. I have no idea what is planned for tomorrow, since we don't plan really, but if the rain persists it might become another boring, wasted day. Mel

journal entry . day 9 . Killarney

31 May 2007

It is sunny and beautiful! I feel like I've used that word so many times in the past week. Beautiful. It's begun to lose its meaning.
We are unsure of how long we have with the sunshine, as the weather can turn quickly here. It is just as unpredictable as the weather in California, maybe even more so, since rain is more common here.One just never knows quite when it'll happen. Mel

Everybody smokes in Ireland. No joke. EVERYONE. And they call parking lots, car parks. They drive on the wrong side of the road. And the driver's seat is on the right, not the left. Many people ride the bus, all over Ireland, Bus Eireann, since it is easy and the busses are really nice coaches. Signs at bus stations read "Please watch out for moving vehicles at the yellow kerbs." ha ha. Kenz and I decided to adopt that word as slang. "That's so kerb." The Irish say, "Good craic (crack)." Meaning it was a good time, or good conversation. I feel like such an obvious tourist, every time I speak. My American accent sounds so out of place and boring, and I feel as if every time I open my mouth I'm being judged by it. I'd almost rather not speak to anyone, and just smile. Mel

We're in Cork now. Our hostel, Bru, is definitely the hippest one yet, with a nice bar instead of a lobby :) We're in room 401, the penthouse, which seems more like an apartment with two bedrooms, a walk-in closet, a kitchenette, and a jacuzzi jet tub in the bathroom! The place is packed with people's stuff though, and a little dirty and smelly, as if they live there, or at least have stayed a good while. I'm sitting at the bar, having a pint of Guinness, while Kenz is upstairs in the kitchen/"wroom" downloading pics to the internet. She saw a USB cable in our room and is "borrowing" it. Sneaky. She also stole a little shamrock pendant at the Kylemore Abbey gift shop, to hang from her cross necklace. Its leaves are made from Connemara marble. I told her that since she stole it, it wouldn't be good luck. Her argument was that bad luck always turns out to be good luck for her! Which is actually true sometimes, oddly enough. Mel

We aren't quite sure what we'll do tonight. I'm glad we came to Cork though. Yeah, it's just a city, but it seems more real, less tourist-y. Killarney was a little boring, though we didn't see much, and Neptune's wasn't the most comfortable place. Tomorrow if the weather clears *fingers crossed* we might ride bikes up to Blarney Castle. It is only about 8 km outside of Cork, but we also need to find out what the roads are like before we commit to that. Mel

journal entry . day 10 . Killarney & Cork

01 June 2001

Rabbit rabbit :) Last night we made dinner again. Some pasta and vegetables. We met a few of our dorm mates before dinner, Graham from England and Sebastian from France. Nice guys.We watched this INSANE drunk-driving PSA on the tv in the dining room. It was horrific. They are hard-core about that issue, since eveyone in Ireland drinks and all.
After Kenz came down to Bru bar yesterday, we sat for a bit, and ended up meeting a guy named Eric from South Carolina. We talked to Effa (eefah), the bartender/concierge/front desk about biking and availability for tonight but they were booked. So we finished our pints and walked up the street to Sheila's hostel but they were booked as well, and we realized that it is the June Bank holiday weekend in Ireland. So we're not sure what we'll do. Uncertainty certainly seems to be the theme of this trip :) Mel

After dinnner, and that scary PSA, we went down to the bar. I love having a bar IN our hostel, so convenient. We had a few pints, and I took the Heineken glass I had because it had the Bru Bar & Hostel logo on the other side :) Since the pubs have to close early, mandated by Irish law, they put up these large shades and blockaded the front door, so they could keep serving! Very cool. If you wanted to leave you'd exit through the side door, but couldn't come back in unless you were staying in the hostel. After that we just went upstairs to bed... ha ha how boring are we! Whatever...
We woke this morning. had breakfast, dressed and packed. I had a slight headache, which sucks. I still kind of do. We left our luggage and trekked off to find a room for tonight. We got a little lost but eventually found Kinlay House, and luckily they had a few beds available for €16 each. After we secured the beds at Kinlay, we bought bus tickets to Blarney. Very cute little town just outside of Cork and as we walked to Blarney Castle from the bus stop we realized how lucky we were to have nice, sunny weather.
The castle was very cool (so kerb LOL), the grounds lush and green, with a trickling creek, and the Rock Close. The history of the castle is quite dramatic, like most. And, of course, there is the Blarney Stone. Up many flights of steep spiraling stairs carved out of the stone, that get narrower as you go higher, we waited in the "queue", as they say here. No one says "line". There are passageways to other rooms as you go, and the view from the top is a little dizzying, but beautiful, as you can glimpse much of the town. When it was finally our turn to kiss the Blarney Stone I went first. I had to take off my beanie :( and sit on the mat facing away from the wall. Then I had to lay on my back and grab the rail, sliding down little by little while one guy held onto me and another took a picture. (They certainly have interesting jobs.) Crazy. Kenz took a picture too and then I took a pic of her kising it. It is such a weird concept, to kiss this stone believed to give anyone who does, "the gift of gab." (Jeffrey kissed it and it worked on him all right! He's a genuine chatty cathy, when he's drunk that is :) Everyone from Winston Churchill, to a few U.S. Presidents, celebrities and millions of people all over the world, have kissed the Blarney Stone... I wonder if they ever clean it :)
We walked to the Rock Close after and saw the wishing stairs and the witch's kitchen. We ran into Tracey and Matt, the newlywed couple from Baltimore, who were on our Cliffs of Moher tour! They told us they also saw us walking down the street in Killarney as they were driving by! Weird.
We sat on a little wooden bridge, our feet dangling above the creek, and ate our fruit. Then we walked around the town square for a bit, hopped back on the bus and went back into Cork, picked up our luggage from Bru and made our way to Kinlay House. Time for a nap, because we are going OUT tonight ;) Mel

journal entry . day 11 . Cork & Blarney

P.S. It wasn't a drunk-driving PSA, it was an anti-speeding PSA and I found it on youtube. Check it out, but I'm warning you, it is VERY graphic.

With St. Patrick's Day on the way, I took a short spin over to Blarney Castle to take a few pictures.

I've never kissed the Blarney Stone - the idea of suspending myself under a damp rampart to press my lips against it in the hopes that I will speak more eloquently seems rather pointless, if not somewhat unhygienic. Anyway, I think I have already have the gift of the gab. You don't want me to get super-charged on gabbing, believe you me. It's a magical de-gabbing stone I need.

Click on any photo above for more detail.

The grounds of Blarney Castle are delightful. Along with the impressive ruined castle, there are all sorts of structures to discover including a lookout tower, a lime-kiln and Blarney House itself. Then there is the lake, the cave and the Rock Close: a pleasant walled garden not far from the castle. Spring has come early this year, so all the trees are budding, the daffodils are everywhere and the hazel catkins are in full flower. Not a shamrock in sight.