Another Blog About “What The Phuc Do I Do Now…”

“… Now every dream gets whittled down, just  like every fool gets wise…”

~ Middleman by Bright Eyes

… I swear, I must be the wisest fool out there! … And how many times have I said that…

I’m done know. I have no more dreams to whittle down, and this fool is as wise as a fool  can be.

I’m nearly 50 years old, and there are dreams that I know will never happen. I will never  be an Olympian, or an astronaut, have a wedding or go on a honeymoon. I will never have a family of my own, and sadly, I will never own my own home. I will rent or be homeless until Zuker-nutz deposits his entire fortune into a high interest, liquid money market, off shore account with my name on it. The list goes on … and on … and on … Don’t bother  blowing all those dubious Facebook mantras of how it’s “not to late to live your dream” up my arse. There’s no more room!


I’m too choked up to even write about this… I’ve been sitting here in front of the computer for hours now. … I’m out of breath, it’s so hard to breath thinking of it … It running through my head right now, over and over again all the times I’ve come so close, so damn close but had to give it up…

… I just tried to write the list, but it just kept going on and on and it just sounds like some old coot dithering  about all the couldda woulddas …

We all make sacrifices, we all make the decision to do one thing or another. My story isn’t any different than yours, or yours, or yours… BUT I SO WANT IT TO BE! Then I will have every reason, to feel as horrible as I do for giving my very last …  Shoot I can’t even say it…

…*sigh*… OK…

I gave up my life, albeit a crappy life in the US to come to Ireland at the time with my then boyfriend, then suddenly husband, now known as “dickweed”, to open a martial arts school. When things got tough he bolted in a very slow grand fashion. But I stuck with it. I kept the school going though all of dickweed’s sabotage,  through the politics and more sabotage of other schools, through hunger, sickness, and financial short comings. I gave up social … “stuff”… I gave up comfort. I gave up heat during the Winters. I’ll be damned if I was going to pay a penny more to turn on the heat when I can throw on another shirt and shiver in a dark corner in silence. Yes! Yes! A DARK corner, because I’ll be damned if I wasted a penny on a light when the glow of street light coming through the window would due! … I went through Hell, several times over … And I did it willingly … Because up until now, the humble re wards were so so soooooo worth it…

… For the last year and a half the school has suffered a massive string of bad luck & bad timing. The list is long for such a short time…

… I don’t think I can recover the school and get it back up on it’s tender and fragile feet… I’m burnt out. I’m broken. My aches and pains remind me continuously that I’m growing old. I don’t have the wear with all anymore. … 12 years gone with nothing to show for it. … This school was my Hail Mary to make something out of my life even though people only saw me as a thick martial arts instructor. … I was hoping that my life would have carried more substance …

If I close this school down, which seem inevitable. There will be nothing left. …

… So what’s the point?… I have no money, no family … Friends these days forget quickly and easily … No reason … No reason whatsoever …




It Was Just A Shitty Job

5 Weeks now.

Still can’t sleep through a Sunday night.

Doing better with the other nights…

Well, Wednesday is still a bit rough. …

5 Weeks, and I’m still angry.

Goodness, it was just a shitty job that I did for 3 years.

You would think that I just got out of a co-dependant abusive relationship.

But I didn’t.

It was just a shitty job that I did for 3 years.

Sure I can make all the correlations between a shitty job and a abusive relationship.

Because that’s what it is, isn’t it?

But do the same break up rituals work on a shitty job you did for 3yrs?

Maybe a re-bound job? … But that means you’d work at an even shittier job…

That might just do me in, ‘coz the last one nearly did.

There are no photos to burn, no rumours to spread, no lawsuits, no vehicles for my own vindication … Life goes on..

It was just a shitty job I did for 3 years.

5 weeks gone, and I am still angry…

I know, I said that already.

Why am I still angry?

Why am I angry at all?

It was just a shitty job I did for 3 years.

I thought I would be better by now.

That I would be bursting with energy, that I would drop the stress weight I gain, that all the erratic aches & pains that would randomly crush me would disappear, that my satirical intellectual prowessness would suddenly return.


A student teased me when I complained; “Did you get your ‘medical bingo card’?

After realizing what it was, my only response was; “Do we get paid if we win?”

To be fair, I do have a bit more energy, but only enough to realize how broken I am.

I know these things take time, but it’s been 5 Weeks!

I know why I am angry.

That song. “California Numb” by Cloves

“… If you can only see me know, you can hear the punchline,

That I don’t like my face, or how I’m turning out…”

That’s why I’m so angry.

It’s been 5 Weeks, I’m not much better.

… And it was just a shitty job that I did for 3 years.



The Wait…

Geezays! When did I give in my notice to quit this Puke Stank Job? I think it was 3 years ago! … Or was it at the end of July? My good friend Brad asked me why I gave so much notice. Well, because I wanted to be a good person. This is the time that everyone is going on holiday (that’s vacation for my state side buddies). I’m helping out, covering shifts while they are away. Although I don’t owe casino anything I don’t want to leave them hanging esp. since I might need a reference. So I’m playing nice. However I’m seriously reconsidering….

Last week I got off the bus hunched over and heavy footed. Slogged over to the coffee shop where I will weep into a cup of coffee in hopes to build up enough gusto to go to work.  On the way I just happened to be at the bus stop, at the very moment the bus that would take me back home pulled up. The doors opened and I stood there staring into the bus. People came off, people got on, and still I stood there staring into that bus. “Are you getting on?” The bus driver asked… Oh my soul died a little as I squeeked out a “No.” and walked away. Why didn’t I get on that bus?

Of course to add insult to injury, that night one of the regulars stole €50 from me. Basically jumped on a slot machine that had not been cashed out and played it down. It’s on me because I was suppose to make sure the machines are cashed out before they are in use again. I think I had to pee and thought “Oh, she’s a regular it will be fine for the 3 min. I pee…” Well, no.  She saw the opportunity and took it. She probably thought that I was leaving in a couple of weeks so there won’t be any recourse… and no, there wasn’t. I worked 5 hours for free. … More reason to quit this Manky Ass Lick job.

I am doing the very minimum while I am at work, while I’m counting down the days. 5 more shifts left by the way. I don’t vacuum (hovering). I don’t buy the snacks for the customers, just make sure there’s enough milk for the night. I don’t take the trash out unless it overflowing, or clean the front window sills that people sit on, or sweep up the cigarette butts just outside the front door, because the customers couldn’t be bothered to step out of the doorway to smoke their cancer sticks and walk all of 2 steps to toss their butts in the ashbucket that’s attached to the side of the building. I don’t even clean the bathroom or mop the floor unless it’s obvious, or just enough so that I can use it. And guess what? NOBODY NOTICED! All this time I could have gotten away with just doing the bare minimum and it wouldn’t have make an ounce of difference, because being diligent certainly didn’t.

… 5 more shifts at this Genital Slime Rot job… 1 more week left … PHUC! THIS IS PURGATORY! This is the wait where every hour gets longer and longer! This is the wait where you contemplate the demise of all the customers. This is the wait where you purposely stress your self out by blowing up the severity & urgentcy of all the bills you owe, just so you wouldn’t reduce the workplace to ashes while walking off your shift.

THIS IS THE WAIT! … 5 Shifts … 1 Week … Oh goodness help me …




My Resolve Is Wavering

So it’s been 2 weeks since I put in my notice to my Gangerous Slime Rot job. There was a lot of support from all the people that I know about my decision and actually following through with the notice. It was a weight lifted off my shoulders. I still felt like Godzilla suckered punched me when walked through the door. The rage still boiled up within an hour of working there, but there was a bit of hope.

I started daydreaming of all the artsy fartsy projects that I would be able to finally, finally FINNALY finish. I can clean the house, organize all the “to be filed piles” that are scattered through out the house. I would hang out in my back garden (yard) fussing about, watching spiders spin their webs. I would practice my flute and study the game of Go/Baduk/Wei Qi in futile yet aspiring hopes of becoming a master. … I will train … Everyday… Rediscovering the Shaolin forms and techniques that I let fall to the wayside because of this Manky Piss Stank job.  … My GOODNESS!  All the writing that I would do… Not that I think that I have Earth shattering thoughts & concepts, or J.K Rowling level story lines. I just want to write. I imagine myself sitting in coffee shops with my laptop, sucking the very last drop of the free cup of coffee that I will get because of a full loyalty card that I’ve been hoarding for just such an occasion. There will be a gentle rain outside softly drumming on the window like a meditative mantra. A soft angelic halo of light would surround me as I tap out the ramblings of a mandrill baboon. Ahhhhh… It would .. will be GLORIOUS! …  I would walk with my head up high, a smile from ear to ear, and no hip pain from sitting on a stool in a cramped space for 18hrs at a time! OH! I can’t wait until September 5 2019, my last day at that Puke Slime job!

… I had to pay all my monthly bills last night… My account is down to €50.  The underwriters for my Public Liability insurance have pulled out, so I need to find a new insurer. Meaning I will more and likely have to pay 2x as much as before. The outdoor drain needs to be cleared €130. The night storage heating needs to be taken out €300. The sink faucets in the kitchen and bathroom need to be replaced because they don’t turn off completely and leak €360. The roof above the kitchen is leaking. … In one months time I have to pay out another €1500 just in bills. …

… My resolve to quit this job is wavering…

My Notice Is In!


I have offically given notice. In 6 & 1/2 weeks I will be FREE from this Gangrenous Puke Rot job!

It was rather anti-climatic…

All week end I was psych’n myself up for it. I refuse to engage in anything that involved money, look at my bank accounts or even count money. I didn’t want to chicken out… Taught a seminar Sunday morning, it finished up early, thought; ‘Great! I have an extra 2 hours! I’ll take a nap!’ And that’s what what I did. You’d think it would be restful, peaceful even, because all Sunday afternoon naps usually are. But no, every 10 min or so I’d open one eye and check my phone, not just for messages from work, but to make sure I didn’t over sleep. Finally I get up to get ready. Remeber from my last post, I have to go to the coffee cafe down the way from work an hour before my shift to psych myself up for the job, which means I have to leave another hour earlier to walk to the bus stop that takes about 20min. Wait for the bus – 10 min. Then depending on traffic another 20min to 50 min  on the bus. … But as I’m putting my things together I get a few calls and several messages; “… Are you on your way? … Where are you?… ” etc… I respond; “I’m not in until 6pm”



“You work at 4 … Did you look at the roster?…”

Turns out the roster was changed and nobody thought to tell me about it. No matter, I work it out. She can stay until 6pm. I get to work, Godzilla does his compulsory punch in the gut when I walk through the door and it’s non stop  equipment malfunction, noise, noise,  louder noise, selfishly self-entitled cranky customers, & small time amature semi criminals. I manage to get them out before closing at 2am I go home in bed By 4am @ 8am I get messages from the Assistant Manager letting me know all the fallacious reasons why I am not worthy of this Manky Piss Stain job…*sigh*… Typical shift at work – I am definately putting in my notice…

Now I’m motivated. I get on the computer I write my resignation letter:

22 July 2019

Dear Bozo, Krusty, & Pennywise

Please accept this letter as notice resignation  from my role as the company’s  doormat, employee dumping ground and customer’s punching bag. My last day will be Thursday 5 September 2019.

I greatly appreciate the opportunity to bring forth my inner demons to justify areson & contemplate the downfall of all your customers, that you have provided me.

I fully intend to work all the shift that I have been scheduled, with tremendous disdain & a dark sense of sarcastic humour. I hope you and the company will continue to enjoy it’s failing success in the future.


The Goddess & Creator of The 9th Ring in YOUR Hell

… My better self told me that I should keep it simple and leave out the adjatives.

I print it out in triplicate. Put it in a brown recycled environmentally friendly evelope, because we all should do more of this… Got ready for work, got on the bus, sat in the coffee shop down the way with letter in hand. I contemplate all the AMAZING things I can see and do once I’m FREE from the barbed shackles of this Pestilant Poisoned job, like: Go to sleep, eat proper meals at reasonable times, see what the live in boyfriend actually looks like…

Now I wasn’t expecting the Asst. Mgr. That I was suppose to take over from ti throw their hands up in the air curse the powers the be, fall to their knees a, begging me to stay while gripping my left ankle… Seriously, I really wasn’t. Nor was I expecting them to turn into a towering inferno of rage exiling me to my room with no dinner for a millennia screaming “GOOD RIDDANCE YOU BUMBLING BUM!”

… I’m not sure what I was expecting. I know I was expecting that they would be there…

So I come into work and take the sucker punch by Godzilla come up to the desk and find one of the other workers there. The Asst. Mgr. had to leave…

… That’s it…

Well, I still put my notice in. I messaged them saying that I will quit as of the 5 Sept. took a photo of the letter and sent it to them so that there’s some sort of time stamp. There was a bit of surprise with a “… you want to leave completely…” But not much else…

In any case … My Notice Is In! …


I’m Quitting My Job On Monday

Yes, I am. I am quitting my job on Monday.

I’m writing this as a statement to the World that I am going to quite my job on Monday… (Actually, I’m giving notice on Monday … As of Friday 6th September 2019 I QUIT! )

I have to do this, because between now and Monday, I will talk myself out of it, and try to find yet another way to cope with this goodness forsaken phuc’d up job.

I have no safety nets – NONE!

No savings.

No family … none that will give me any kind of support until I’m back on my feet, anyway…

No friends that can afford to support me, we are all suffering … Plus, in 2013 I was in dire straits. Literally portioning out a small €0.99 bag of baby potatoes for the week and waiting to see if Meals on Wheels had any leftovers for me so that I can portion that out. I had made a huge leap and took my martial arts school and left the corrupted life sucking Instructors that my school & I were being terrorized by and went out on my own. Again I had NOTHING! Then my AWESOME Friends Ben & Angel, got all my other Friends together to pitch in and send me money to help out! My GOODNESS! How that saved me! But like what Spiderman said “… Everyone, gets 1…” That was my 1. … And I have yet to honour their kindness or even returned their favour…

I am on my own…

I hate my job… I hate my job… I hate my job…

I was only suppose to be working 20hrs a week. Set hours too. It was suppose to be a part time job that helped with making ends meet while I build my school. But to help out while a girl was on maternity leave. I worked full time. When she came back, not only was I bullied relentlessly by her, she jammed up the roster where I ended up working 18hr shifts, & double shifts every unholy and holy Sunday for the better part of 2 flipping shyte years! I kept track of everything, all her calls all her texts all her notes. Every time I just had enough I would bring it all to the manager and she would get a slap on the wrist. … I would foolishly think to myself; ‘Things will get better now’ … Well of course, you know, it didn’t.

Working that many hours with no breaks, the customers turn into Grade ‘A’ Greedy Slimy Jerks! I start to imagine 50, 100, 1000 different ways you can get away with murder. I start chanting to myself ; ‘I work the awful job so I can travel! I work this awful job so I can travel! I work this awful job…”

Then there’s the ever so invasive social media that we are all now required to be on both Facebook and What’s App so the Assistant Manager can constantly send out group phuc’n messages to remind us what an AWFUL PHUC’N JOB WE ALL WORK AT, at 3  FECKIN’ A.M. in the SHITTY MORNING! … And that’s on  your day off… assholes…

Every time I take the bus to work, I desperately wish that instead of getting in the bus through the door, that I would get in the bus through the front grill …  I hate my job… I have to go to a coffee shop that’s 5 min away from my crappy poo fart job an hour before my shift starts, to phyc  myself up for work. I get queezy, nauseous as I drag my sorry ass on that 5 min walk to the front door. I feel like I just got sucker punched in the gut by Godzilla when I step inside. … I can’t breathe … Within the 1st hour the anger in me starts to boil, and the only way I can control it is to book weekends away and holidays… I have to cancel them later when I get home. … I feel that I have some freedom, some escape when I do that … I’m keeping my booking to Iceland though… By the end of my shift, I’m shaking with rage and in the past week, I’ve taken to throwing up after I close up at 2am. … Not joking … Face down in the toilet throwing up… Thank Goodness I cleaned it before … sucks that I have to clean it again… It takes me a whole day after a shift to wind down from it. I’m already consumed by the anxiety a whole day before a shift….

I gained 40lbs since I started this … this … job. I now have lipedemia, and exhibiting signs of multiple sclerosis that runs rampant in my family. My joints ache constantly. I’m always tired. I’m always angry. … I hate my job… Earlier this year, because of the stress and anxiety of this Rat Ball Slime job and sitting for 18hrs on a stool, my soas muscles seized and twisted, pulling my left leg 2in up into my hip. It cost me a fortune to go to an osteopath to work it out so that I can stand on both feet at the same time. (If you are in the Cork City, Douglas area I’d recommend Trevor if you need one. He’s FANTASTIC!) Currently my ulcers are flaring, even as I write, I have waves of searing pain ripping through my gut every time I think about this Demon Spawned job.

Recently I have had to get all my VAT & TAX for the school in order and up to date. Long story for another time & post. It was a real eye opener. My worse year financially was in 2013 when I only had 6 active students. I currently have over 20 active students, and I am bringing in ONLY 1/3 of what I brought in when I only had 6 active student in 2013! I’ve been so consumed by this Wart Stank job that I’ve not only neglected my health but I’ve neglected my school.

My conditioning is so bad, I can barely teach my classes. I know that I would not be able to do the work out that I make my beginners do. That’s really embarrassing being that I’m 6th degree black belt. Can you imagine what I can do with more than 20 active students if I wasn’t always tired, angry and in pain? If I can teach my classes with enthusiasm instead of just getting through so I can get to work. If I could not just tell them how it’s done but show them as well! My Goodness IT WOULD BE SOOOO MUCH FUN! Maybe instead of just 20 active students, there would be over 50? … If I had over 50 active students, I wouldn’t need a second job…

In the last several months there’s been a very unsavory element in the customers. Illegal activity happening in and around my place of work. I told management. They talked to the customer and fibbed. They fibbed about how the they were being watched. And now the customers are calling their bluff. I let management know. Management didn’t care. We are working alone until 2am. The crowd is getting rougher and rougher. We have no back up or recourse other than calling the guard (police) if anything should happen. The whole problem could be resolved if management would just have security do a walk through  or  2 between 11pm and 1am to make their presence known. But they couldn’t be bothered. So, I have to play security guard for less than half the hourly pay of an actual security guard. … I hate my job…

And there’s Ricky. The live in boyfriend. My love, though we haven’t had anytime to really explore it. We met. 6 months later we dated. 6 months later he moved in. 8 months later I started this WHANKTARD SNATCH PUSS job… So once again you can imagine, always tired, always angry, always physically in pain with one thing or another. Between teaching classes, and work, and his work, and whatever else it is that he does, we might get a full day to spend together … well, I’m sure we have… Over the last few years he’s shaved his gotee, grew it back, and shaved it again. Changed the style of clothes, gained weight, loss weight, I’m sure his views on life have evolved or changed, but I wouldn’t know … Always tired, angry & in pain, I barely notice when he decides to do a bit of creative man-scaping. … Maybe that’s the way it’s always been? … Gotta give the man credit for putting up with  me and sticking around all this time, still doing the dishes even! I have to wonder where we would be now if it weren’t SKANK PHUC JIZ ROT job. … Better? Worse? I know that I’m looking forward to finding out …

So, I’m quitting my job Monday, … I’m giving notice  …  In a month and a few days I will have to face a whole new set of anxieties, but I WILL BE FREE …

Wish me luck Folks! And don’t let me chicken out!

Sketch Dirty

This was my attempt to “sketch dirty” Ha! I know what you’re thinking & you’re being naughty! 😉

Back in my days of elementary school we actually were graded on our art work! I always got really high marks until the devastating day in 6th grade when Mrs. Krebs brought in an art student from some fancy smancy college to teach us about “art” by sketching our sneakers. I went straight to work meticulously drawing every line of my K-Mart wannabe Addias knockoffs! I even used a ruler and that weird thing that you were suppose to use to draw perfect circles but ending up stabbing the kid in leg that you sat next to for eating your glue… But I digress… When I was done I presented a very pristine pair of my kid sweaty grubby sneakers, with perfectly tied laces and a very articulate shadow to show dimension, the hippy dippy artsy farsty student art teacher, GASPED! At first I thought it be one of shear delight from the glory of my art work! OH! But No! No! No!

“That’s Not right!” She exclaimed! “That’s not what your sneakers look like!”

My nostrils started to flair, not in rage, but in attempts to hold back gushing tears of utter confusion! Of course it looked like my sneakers! I sketched MY sneakers! How can MY sketch of MY sneakers look like anything other than MY SNEAKERS!

In her own desperation to keep this racially ambiguous girl from self distruction, she scrambled off into another classroom and came back with a sketch of 2 fried eggs and some spaghetti. I don’t think I was ever more confused.

“You want it to look more like this…” She said trying to be consoling. “Your’s is to ‘clean’. You want to ‘sketch dirty’…”

I had not a clue of what she was talking about. I was to busy wallowing in self pitty & doubt. She gave me a “D” and Mrs. Krebs still hung it on the wall with the others as a constant reminder of my failed career as a 6th grade artist.

It wasn’t until I was in college when my AWESOME friend Erin was taking an art history class as an elective that I kinda sorta understood what sketching dirty meant… Yeah I looked through her books… Still, I don’t think I’ve even remotely grasped the concept… Yet! 😉


Yeah, I “Do” Lent



It’s the day before St. Patrick’s Day in Cork City Ireland and people are concerned about whether they will honour their Lent “resolution”. I was told a while back when I first move here, that “They” usually allow you to “cheat” on St. Patrick’s Day. But that’s not what I’m wanting to write about here. In this conversation that I had with a friend who was trying to justify eating meat (AKA a  West Cork Burger Company juicy blue cheese lamb burger) I told them that I was giving up buying ready made meals for my lunches and dinners at work. That I was going to make all my lunches and dinners at home and .bring them to work. The look of confusion and surprise on their face was astounding! They knew that I wasn’t Christian/Catholic, or any religion in particular so their confusion was justified.

“WTF! Why are doing Lent!?” They exclaimed “Your not Christian!”

No, I’m not, but do I have to of that religion to believe that something is simply a good practice?

Before Christianity people gave up eating meat during this time of the year because their live stock were pregnant and giving birth to more livestock. It was good practice to ensure that they didn’t deplete their herd so that it can multiply and grow. Pancake Tuesday was a way of getting rid of the old eggs, so they can distinguish the new eggs that were laid.  You let these eggs hatch so again you can have more chickens! When Christianity was incorporated into this tradition or vis versa, the old hen that doesn’t lay eggs anymore would have 40 days of pampering  and fattening for it’s final destination as one of the main courses for Easter dinner.

Religion aside, I felt that these are good practices, for cleansing, to go without so you don’t become indulgent. It is a good practice for saving and planning so that you are not caught out. It is a good practice to develop good habits. Making my own meals to bring to work will save me money. I make my own food that is better for me, so I’m healthier. Having more money and being healthier, I’m generally happier! So yeah I “do” Lent because it makes me happy!


Caught A Mouse

No, no. It’s not a euphemism. I actually did catch a mouse.  I used a glass and captured it, then took it outside to the compost. I released and it seemed quiet content to stay and naw on some carrot scraps.


People are always surprised how I do this. “Why aren’t you using traps?” “I have some extra traps you can have!” “They have these ‘human’ traps now!”…

I’ve seen 1st hand what those so called “humane” traps are like. Back in the early 2000s I was living in a basement walk out in the Nyland Co Housing Community back in Layfayette Colorado. I had told the people that were renting the house upstairs that there mice. See back then I didn’t have a phone, or wifi, or any sort of internet. The landlords of the place where living in Italy and the people upstairs were the connection to them if anything was needed. Well, they ignored me, because the mice didn’t make it up the stairs to their place … yet… They eventually did. Maybe they moved upstairs because I was so dirt poor that that my cupboards were bare and my little basement walk out was colder inside than it was outside. So when the mice nested in their oven, they finally called in the exterminators. They laid down gel traps… ugh…

They did their job. The mice ran across them and got stuck. But they didn’t die. They were stuck and they screamed. Shrill, haunting screams. I had to look. There were 2 mice in one tray. One had it’s nose stuck into the gel and couldn’t breath. You could see it’s little body heave for air that wasn’t there. The other one had all 4 legs stuck in it. I heard it’s little bones snap as it struggle to get free. I couldn’t take it, I grab a sharp kitchen knife and stabbed it through their heads to put them out of their misery. From that day forward I swore I would never use gel traps again. And if at all possible never use any sort of death trap at all.

So what do I do? When I notice that there is a mouse. I ignore it. It seems to get use to me quite quickly. It might take a day or two. But eventually it gets comfortable enough to come out into the open. Even then I would ignore it for a bit longer. And then about the 3rd time that it comes out, I simple put a glass over it, slide a bit of cardboard under it, and take the whole thing out into the compost and set it free. They never run and hide when I release them out there. They just start munching on the nearest food scrap.

That’s it… It’s a better way… At least for me… I can go to sleep at night without the sounds of a screaming mouse in agony after their bones snapped trying to get out of a trap.

Speaking of sleep… There’s another mouse upstairs in the bed room. Different mouse, bigger and brownish. Maybe a baby rat. I don’t know. But in a couple of days I’ll capture it in my way and bring it out to the compost…

School Strike 4 Climate Cork Ireland 14 March 2019

I don’t have much to say… I was there. I wanted to support the kids and the Cork Environmental Forum. I marched with them from the Cork Opera House down St. Patricks Street, Grand Parade, over Parnell Bridge to City Hall! All us “Old Timers” felt out of place. This was their march, their protest. But being there with the kids and the young adults, was so every energizing and inspiring! Their creativity and enthusiasm was AWESOME!

The Youth of this world are AMAZING! They let us see into the future while reminding us of our past. This strike, this march show us that our future is in good hands!

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