A Lot Of Puppy, Butterflies, Poor Donkeys and Irish Mosquitos

Before we get started, hello, and welcome. But mainly, I'm trying this thing I hear tell people do, which involves having music on whilst writing... Weird. Normally I want quiet, because I'm speaking (virtually), and I don't want anyone else interfering with my right to speak, or distracting silly little me, or changing the tone or mood when I don't intend it to be altered. I don't know how long this horrific experiment will last, I can't hear myself think here.

Yeah. experiment over. I'm more of a speech giver than a conversationalist.
Ahhh... Peace...

So ladies and gentlemen, let's fill you in and get you up to date on everything you've missed these past couple days. I'm just warning all you cat-folk out there, my Puppy will be centre stage during this blog post, so relax and enjoy the canine.

Puppy is, in a sentence, a bundle of galloping energy, with the kind of fur you just want to ruffle and give scrunchie-cuddles to. He also happens to run so fast, and have such big paws (and a big self in general), that admittedly, he does sound like a horse when he legs it around the field. And in regards to his puppy-dog strength (he's nearly fully grown, but he'll always be my puppy), he could drag you down the road as if you weren't there at all, if you let him, on a walk. Ask le boif, who despite his cat-lover self, enjoys being hauled down the road by Puppy. Oh yes, and Puppy has a "real" name, but I don't like real names, and I like Puppy better.

While you may imagine this big doggy to be wild and relentless (which is mostly true), you have yet to hear about his adorable puppy-self. Puppy may sound like a horse, but when we went for a walk down to some local real horsies, poor Puppy was frightened out of his fur, but sat there like a good boy, albeit, quite far away from them. But perhaps the cutest thing of all, even beating his sitting beside me when he's finished galloping, while I read my book, is his adoration of flying creatures. If that dog had wings, he'd be dangerous.

Puppy's all time favourite hobbies are chasing and snapping at butterflies, battling and vanquishing bees and wasps, and watching the birdies fly around the sky, and galloping underneath them. I swear, you give him a butterfly in flight, and he'll give you a spectacle. He can never catch them though, he's too big to jump high enough, but that doesn't stop him of course. However, as cute as this pastime of his is, if you have him on the lead, taking him for a walk, and a butterfly crosses his path, Puppy's gonna chase that butterfly, with or without you attached to him. His battles with bumbly bees are very "kawaii" also. At first, he attacks, and snaps at them, jumping back after he delivers each snap, for fear of receiving a sting, and this dance continues until the bee's wings cannot support it anymore, and it falls to the grass, in despair. This is not the end however. Puppy will lie down, watching that bumbly bee, making sure it stays inanimate, and doesn't try to be a hero. If that bumble so much as twitches a microscopic leg, Puppy will pat him with his paw, to make sure it won't happen again, feeling like he is in control of nature itself. When Puppy is certain of his victory, he celebrates. He does this by flopping onto where the bee is lying, and rolling around, on top of him, with the happiest face you've ever seen. I am also certain that Puppy wishes he were a bird, because he stares up into the sky for minutes on end, and runs with all his might underneath the swallow he spies, swerving here and there, replicating the bird's exact flight pattern. All in all, what is he trying to do to me, this Puppy, kill me with cuteness?

One more thing, I'd like to share with you, if Puppy's actions aren't cute enough for you, allow me to introduce to you, Puppy, as an actual puppy. If that's not totes adorbs I don't want to live in this world. It's so strange to think, all those years ago, when we first got Puppy, he was so small, he would curl up on my chest and tummy and fall asleep, with his big baby paws. Nowadays, I could use him as my pillow.

Enough about my puppy (I'm done now cat-folk), on our walk today (I swear, not about Puppy), we came across a sad little donkey a few fields down from our home, all overgrown hoofed and little and neglected. It's enough to break a heart. We've called the ISPCA, and they put a notice on the gate, telling the owner to sort it all out, and the owner obviously just took the notice off his gate so nobody else would see it. We're going to call the ISPCA again soon. The poor little guy. Flat out braying he is.

I was being so attacked by flies and all those other flying insects that buzz directly around your head, that I couldn't stay with the donkey for long, sadly. These flies though. Holy Mary. Phew. Much buzz. Very bite. What is it with me and mosquitoes? Why do you fellows love my blood so? This is Ireland, not Spain. I did not sign up for this mosquito deal. So much itch.

I have to say though, the weather really has begun to behave itself. It's sticking exactly around my 17-19 degrees Celsius requirement.  

Oh and here's a picture of my cat as a kitten, for all you cat lovers out there. 

Irish Heatwave, Bass Guitars, AUB-1, and a Little Mandolin

I may have mentioned before that it's summer, but allow me to repeat myself: it really is summer.

Not only have all us lucky students gotten our holidays (yay!), which marks the usual Irish summer, (as we don't normally have the weather to match) but we're also being scorched off the face of the earth. I don't mind a nice warm day, with a light breeze, around 17 degrees Celsius, in fact I'd welcome it. But there is warm, and then there is 'ouch my lungs can't breath from the excessive sun'.  Why? Why is there such a need for 27 degrees? In Ireland of all places! The entire nation will be sunburnt and riddled with freckles before the week is out! I know we Irish love to chat about the weather, and moan about the lack of sun, but honestly, we never expected the sun to come down from the heavens and nest in our backyards. What are we, dating?

I'm aware that at least 70% of the country are cursing people like me (non-sunworshippers) for our putting a downer on our Spain style weather, and are enjoying the scald for the time they get to keep it, but what about all of us delicate flowers? The difference of a couple of degrees for us is traumatic and downright scandalous. I don't even own a fan, I was under the impression that this was a non-scald country. I need to breath, over here. I wouldn't mind if I had a swimming pool (well, I would a little), or at least lived near the sea where a breeze could exist, but an inland area, I don't know how long I'll last. Even my Puppy/giant dog mutt, has no desire to go get the ball, that's a basic doggy right. Not that I could go out and throw it, I fear I'll get frazzled like a little egg on a pan. Suggesting sun cream isn't an option, I would go mad if I had to wear that slime, I'm only human.

Due to my sudden aversion to going outside/inability to leave my cool home, I have taken to playing le boif's bass, and reading le boif's The Bass Book. It does what it says on the tin, and concerns itself with shiny and crumbly old basses that belonged to music-y people, whilst providing pictures and educating helpless and clueless little ladies like myself, in the world of boom. I'm not implying that when I'm finished I'll retain much information, but I enjoy brushing up on my awareness of my ignorance.

From the little amount I've read, I appear to be more of a Jazz Bass lady than a Precision, and I've also fallen in love with the most handsome bass in town/around. I will show you him now, but bear in mind that he's mine, and you can't have him. (As if I could get my hands on one *cries*) Looooooook at him! In'he a beaut? The one on the left is the AEB-1 (Ampeg Electric Bass), and the one on the left is MY AUB-1 (Ampeg Unfretted Bass). I love him. He's so pretty.






 Look at him sitting there, with his lovely scroll cranium (headstock), his f-holes right through, his quirky bridge, lack of frets and his mystery pickup, why is he not mine? We all know he's supposed to be mine, it's a given, so how's about we speed up the painful process? Or else I'll storm up to Mr. Ampeg and tell him to quit all this amp manufacturing malarkey and make me my bassy. He can't say no. What could go wrong? I know I ought to get a bass of my own, of some description first, in the meantime, but NIH.

I also happened upon a sheer piece of joy yesterday in my Google Images searching. To all you people out there he may just look like a normal mandolin but I beg to differ. I've never seen anything so pretty. I was so delighted with the world for making this 'un, that all faith in the human race has been returned, and I forgive you all for all your nonsense. So here's a picture to brighten your day.

It's Summer! Books! Wild Swans Review! China! But oh... storms...

Yes, it's here at last folks! And no more whining about school bothers shall I partake in, at least for 2 months. Although the weather in Ireland hasn't fully copped on to the fact that it's actually summer for the next couple months, I am enjoying the surprising (but not surprising for Ireland) contrast between blue skies, warm sunny days, and crazy rain-thunderstorm days in between. And now that it's summer, I have time to do everything! So you'd think anyway...

In reality, all I want to do is have mo shrón sáite sa leabhair i gcónaí (or have my nose stuck in books permanently, for the 99% who don't speak Irish). Yep, books, cuddles, and food take up most of my time, but I'm not complaining. Going abroad would also be lovely, but in time, in time. Last night I finished Wild Swans by Jung Chang (FINALLY-it's a big book) and I felt utterly lost and helpless without it. I'll miss the tales of woe, love and determination that permeate the three generations of little Chinese ladies. Despite the long amount of time it took me to read the middle section of that book (when the politics really kicked in), I adored every second of it, even though it deeply saddened and shocked me to hear about the horrific conditions of olden day China. I'll even miss the ridiculous political slogans, all the 'capitalist roaders', 'class enemies', and 'bourgeois' this, that and the other, that were so off the wall and just insane that in the end I couldn't help but laugh at the hypocrisy and mangled logic and sense that a whole country could 'function' under for so many years. That book has brought me many smiles, a handful of tears, and given me a huge insight into China's past, in particular, the first few decades of Communism.

Even after reading it all though, I'm still extremely shocked, and quite outraged that the book is banned in mainland China, even to the present day. I mean, even for a country that has been riddled and ravished with messed up politics, I assumed that in the 21st centrury (nearly 38 years after the death of Mao), complete freedom of speech would be allowed. Especially one so important when it comes to world trade and business. But perhaps my shock is due to lackadaisy Ireland, where practically no books have been banned since 1998. That's one of the reasons I'm glad I live in Ireland, as much as I'd love to see the rest of the world, and one of the reasons I'm so proud to be Irish. I mean Salinger's Catcher In The Rye was banned in 1951, and has since appeared on the Leaving Certificate curriculum, we've developed that much. Now I know it's different with China, because political parties everywhere hate to accept their past mistakes, and Communism is still a thing there, but I am still quite disappointed with the world. So if the banning of one book in China irks me, you can imagine how I feel about North Korea. It vexes me. I'm terribly vexed. [If you didn't get that quote, I shake my head, sigh and strongly advise you to rewatch Gladiator]

As I type, thunder is rumbling so loudly, that some theoretical god must be rearranging whole houses up there, not just the furniture. I've always enjoyed the gentle, boomy lullaby of thunder rolling across the sky, but that loud bout was more like a growl or a full blown roar rather than a lullaby. No doubt my poor grandmother is hiding underneath the sofa or something at this stage, or managed to squeeze herself between the cracks in the floorboards, or has built some sort of makeshift cellar in the past few hours, for urgent shelter safety needs of course. And my mother decided that today of all days she would go for a drive in the countryside, it's not like we live in the countryside already or anything... Anyway, the rain is so bad my internet is flickering, and even the static in the air that calms me during a thunderstorm isn't fully cancelling out my slight nervousness from the violent bursts of sound of electrostatic discharge.

Scrap all that, it's all escalated so quickly that if I didn't know better, I would be completely convinced that multiple explosions had gone off in my back garden. I'm serious! I've never heard or seen anything like this before! I generally love thunderstorms! They actually relax me! And I've only ever seen lightning a handful of times before, all off in the distance, that I had to strain to see, followed minutes later by soft thunder; I mean Ireland is a very safe, uneventful place. But a few minutes ago, my small window was lit up with bright light, which I saw accidentally even while looking at my computer screen, and then the explosion occurred outdoors, making me feel like I'm in a badly written book by the name of How Many Miles To Babylon, or in an even worse film adaptation with a mentally and accent-ly challenged Alec who apparently watches too much Napoleon Dynamite  and was severely influenced by Napoleon's brother Kip.
Link to a clip of Kip (in Napoleon Dynamite)
Link of a clip of Daniel Day-Lewis (in How Many Miles To Babylon) [Even from the first few lines...]

Anyway, I got a bit shaky, and nervy, and went downstairs. I looked out my back window just to check that it was thunder and lightning and not some bloody atomic bomb going off outside. I didn't anticipate to be blinded by a bright light, that must be nearly directly over my house, and at the most 2 seconds later another deafening roll to assault my eardrums. I'm very surprised my electricity is still working, and has only gone off once or twice for a few seconds.

I haven't heard anything in the past few minutes, perhaps it's clearing, or it's the calm before a bigger storm. I hope it's the former, but I'm really enjoying the storm on another level, don't ask me why.

I was planning on learning some French in a little while but after all this commotion perhaps I'll just curl up with another book...