Enjoy! 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m478jgmhdTw

http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=655381784&v=wall&story_fbid=429369121784#!/photo.php?pid=4767821&id=634373363&ref=notif&notif_t=photo_reply 

Go!!!

And no go. No go for ages. We are supposed to be up to get to the Flower market to buy flowers, but nothing happens until I use my OUTSIDE voice.  While Himself is in the shower I log into his twitter but he doesn’t notice. Then we are on the road, but really we are running late before we even leave the house.

The flowers are glorious, all one could hope for. I pick up an extra bouquet of pink roses that I can’t resist. 

We visit our incredibly patient and kind friend who is taking care of the flowers and then we are on the road! 

Down in Kilkenny there is another list to deal with. Orange Juice for the kids, nail varnish remover, tights, cheques from the Credit Union. Himself is just as busy; Suits to collect, wine to deliver, relatives to collect….

Soon it id done. Home. Dinner. Words going from me. But before I sign off for today, I did get a bloody amazing present from my Dad and my Mum. So if he is reading this, thank you very much. 

And finally, it seems that I have counted wrong. I don’t have one day left to the Wedding, as it is tomorrow. So stand by, I may be a moment before my next blog post.

Tuesday! I am up but strangely enough cannot make myself go for a jog. I go through my stretches and clean the place up a bit, then hit the shower and make myself presentable. Work! A godsend in the midst of all the madness. It is quiet, it is calm, it is serene. 

I actually have a lot to do, I have to arrange for lots to happen before I can take off for my honeymoon. So there are orders to be put in, calls to be made, emails to be sent….Before you know it, the day has flown by.

I have an appointment in the evening that is over by about eight, then Himself picks me up.

We get the car washed, go home and pack, and get ready for the next day.  

Monday. I’m up at 7 and showered and dressed and ready to go. I’ve, again, a lot to do and little time. I just need to check one small thing on the computer and away we go. However, this was before I had tried out my Dad’s computer. It goes sixty miles a week.

Seriously, I’m there an hour waiting for one damn browser to get started. Once it does though, we’re off. I take my little flower girl (Best girl ever) and we go and deliver the vows to the Registrar. The walk takes forever though.

So of course we stop for cake.

Then I’m over to the Credit Union; money in, cheques out. Cheques for the cake, for the DJ and for the Castle. And from there, Boots for the perfect nail varnish. All done by 1pm.

Then I take the youngsters to Toy Story 3. Himself was supposed to make it, but only woke up late and there was moirder amongst the kids…

I cried at Toy Story, it was fantastic, and I know I’m the last person to say that.  Still, it was wonderful, and my Flower Girl and I agree we have to get the DVD when it comes out.  Then my sister rang to ask what formal dinner would be held on Wednesday night, the eve of the wedding?

Then home, to meet with the inlaws who are in town for the day. After all this I’m exhausted, and I sit in the chair feeling low. I have to go back up to Dublin tonight to do my last day at work, and I feel hopeless. Only sitting there, watching the Simpsons (Lisa: "A challenge I could do!") did I realise how dark my thoughts were. I seemed to think because I wasn’t sitting in a meadow blissful and mindlessly serene that I was somehow failing. I went upstairs and sat with my eldest sis and my Mum for a while, and patted myself on the back. I was doing a brilliant job in some very difficult circumstances, and was frankly a miracle worker, truth be told. So there. I went back up to Dublin determined to think kindly of myself. 

Himself was home at all hours yesterday, so I get up and let him sleep. I iron tonnes (when does this nonsense ever end?).

I make my way down via bus. I know it is my last trip down in the bus for a while, so I take a few photos of the landscape. I think, somehow, I’m going to miss it.

The house is quiet, everyone is out bar Dad, who is minding Mum. I spend hours chatting away to her. But there is no point denying it, she looks worse. She can’t speak, hold her head or look at you with any real understanding in her eyes. Last week she could. She could follow some of the things I said. My sister had given dire warnings that Mum would be lost to us by now. However, there had been a solidness to Mum, a healthiness in her limbs that meant I couldn’t see the decrease in her going that fast.

Now, however, I can see it. She seems so much smaller in terms of what she was even a few weeks ago. And she’s not clear on things anymore, not the way she was. 

Folks return, the house gets busy again. I eat dinner with everyone and feel better. 

My sister is on the phone. She wants to know what I’m doing for the guests the day after the wedding. The answer is not a bloody thing.

I go and get some sleep.  

Up and out. I’ve a lot to do and not much time to do it. I don’t go for my run because of giving blood yesterday, I want to rest. I head into Clerys on O’Connell Street.

I get two presents, one for my Maid of Honour and one for my Flower Girl (the best little girl ever). Then I am upstairs for a quick trim on my hair. I had to laugh when they asked was I going anywhere special.

Then after that, I get my eye lashes tinted and my eyebrows shaped and dyed. Hurts like hell, and it shouldn’t, but what can you do?

Then I met himself for a quick bite, courtesy of the Food Market at the O2. Thank God for Pizza, that’s all I can say. 

At home, there is pizza, there is conversation, there is frank amazement ("What did you do to your face?!") before I head out to a friend’s house, and Himself heads out to his stag.

My friend’s sister is a Beauty Therapist, so she’s giving us all facials. I’m there until Six pm, and I could have stayed for dinner, but I found I wanted to go home. I can get like that sometime, my jar of social skills evaporates if I leave it open too long.

Home. Empty, while Himself is out. I call it to a halt at about ten pm, too tired for any more. 

I get up and have a large breakfast because I have to give blood later. I make sure to get some emails sent and then head out. I’m supposed to go with Himself but he’s a bit indisposed, so I make the journey myself. When I get to D’Olier Street, I find the place busy; A lot of people took the 9.30am timeslot and I have to wait for a few minutes.

When you give blood, the first thing you have to do is to fill out a form confirming your suitability. Most of it is innocent enough: No, I haven’t been to Africa (fear of West Nile Disease) and I haven’t had dental surgery in the US (untested blood products). One thing that is suspect is that if you are a gay male, no blood donations from you (instead of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, we have Just Don’t Even Ask). I fill in the form and then they test your blood. This means taking a drop and testing the iron - anything under 11 something can’t be used. I come in at a healthy 12.2 and off we go.

You’re called out, and made to sit on something like this;

They wipe your arm down with alcohol and insert the needle. All of them are old hands so you almost never get a problem. I tell the nice lady I’m getting married Thursday and she promises to make a tiny mark. It takes no more than ten minutes, and then you go up for free juice and a bar. I stayed as long as I could, I’ve had problems when I rushed out, and then headed to work.

On the bus, I felt fine, no problems. Same with when I got there, I gave myself a tea with brown sugar and got my emails done, desk cleared, voicemails returned. I decided at 1.30 to grab some lunch, and got stopped on the way by someone asking me questions about something that wasn’t my job. I could feel my irritation rise but managed to control myself. Finally free, I went into the cafe to buy a sandwich when it hit me.

Suddenly I missed my Mum so much. All the noise and the clatter seemed so hard and mean and I just wanted to be alone more than anything. A voice yelled in my ear. "Hey you, are you getting married?" The lady who runs the place was standing beside me, grinning. I found myself smiling broadly, all social and friendly and lying through my teeth. We chatted away about nothing and she wouldn’t let me pay for lunch. I left, feeling disconnected from everything. This is how the tiredness shows itself, I don’t get sleepy, I get overwhelmed.

Back at my desk, it was a relief to have mere pieces of paper to deal with. I ran through them all, got to five pm, and found I didn’t want to do anything more. I was supposed to go into town but I just wanted to go home, wanted to hide. I caught a bus home. I cleaned the place but it didn’t really help. And now I’m going to bed.  

I’m up! Stop, alarm clock, I’ll be good! Hot water, please, for the love of God, let there be hot water. Is there?

There is! Thanks to ALL my Gods. 

Then we get a call. Our rather magnificent friend is in Smithfield Flower market, she’s seen some possibilities, and she is coming over. Now.  Right now. I quickly stuff things away and tidy the place the hell up, all the while throwing Himself into the shower. Now. NOW!

She arrives, and like the beauty she is, she’s got the whole thing arranged and sorted in no time. The flat is full of flowers, we’re blessed. And she’s saved us about five hundred Euro with this, I’m not kidding. (Yes, five hundred, flowers are stupid money.) 

So I finally get myself together, head out the door and get to work. Once there, I’m able to call folks to remind them, like the Registrar, the DJ and the Cake Lady, and all is order. I’m ringing because when we had the rehearsal, the Registrar forgot/didn’t schedule it and I got panicky. But everyone is on board, all of them seem to be on the same page. Especially the Cake Lady, how cool is that job? I would get nothing done. 

Then it is me who gets a phone call, a missed call on my phone. It’s the Blood Board, and they need me to donate blood. I give them a call and ask why me? My blood type is bog standard. The pleasant sounding woman on the other end explains that a component of my blood (not platelets, something else) is a match for a patient who is about to undergo surgery on Saturday, along with twelve other people. Can I come in at 9.30am to give a donation. As I listen, she tells me who the patient is. It’s a child, a baby, undergoing surgery on Saturday morning in Crumlin.

I tell her I’ll be there on the dot. 

Whoever is the parent out there, thinking of you.

I’m up at six and running, and loving it; it has been a few days since I ran and the five miler was a treat. I get home, get ready for my shower and what do I find?

Cold water. What is my reaction? Don’t panic, do your cool down exercises and put the boost on. I do this, I wait an hour, and then I get in again. What do I find? Freezing cold water. What is my reaction now? This:

Don’t even think of it. I get the plumber, who tells me to call the electrician. The electrician comes out, puts a patch on it and tells me it will need to be fixed, drained, sectioned, facelifted and converted to a new religion, all for a low, low price of huge money. What can ya do? Have a goddamn shower and get to work late, that’s what you do.

After work I met up with some rather lovely colleagues to chat and enjoy ourselves, but I think I might be a bit talked out, dear Reader. I’m not sure I really relaxed the whole time. Got home, got some food, got to bed.