Let the countdown begin! Today begins a week of mayhem before our much-anticipated trip to Ireland. Greg has been subjected to said mayhem for days on end now, but mine is just beginning. Today, I'm going to the County Clare to train for an hour in preparation for my scheduled shift tomorrow. I'll be helping host for the grand St. Patrick's Day celebration, which is going to be absolutely nuts. I've been there before on St. Pat's, and usually there's a line extending out the door and halfway around the block. This year, for the first time in seven years, Greg will be done working at 10 p.m., so he's very excited. I'm just looking forward to seeing him in a kilt. :) After my 11-4 stint at the Clare tomorrow, I will proceed to my usual shift at the Palomino and work until approximately midnight, by which time I'm sure my little feet will be aching for a rub, and by which time I'm sure Greg will just be getting into full swing. We'll see if I can't convince him to come home with me, despite the fact that I'll be getting up at 7 the next morning.
Thursday and Friday I work at the Pal. For those of you who were planning on forgetting, Saturday is my birthday. My plan for that day is basically to do nothing all day, or whatever I feel like doing, though my hope is that I will be able to spend the majority of the day with Greg. He will be performing at the Cactus Club that night, an acoustic performance which I've been told is going to be "really depressing," however, I don't care what kind of music he's playing as long as he's playing music. On my birthday. Yay! He seems really bummed out about it, having a gig on such a revered holiday, but I think it's great. I couldn't think of a better way to spend my evening.
Post-Cactus Club (and the inevitable shots which I'm sure will be coming from my co-workers next door at the Pal), I would like to end our evening at Angelo's, which is a piano bar not too far from my splendid home. Angelo's features a pianist (well, keyboardist) of approximately 70some years of age who has been playing there on a regular basis...ooh, probably longer than I've been alive. She has this really sweet old lady voice, and she does all kinds of old romantic tunes - Sinatra, Dean Martin, etc. So I would like to see my love perform at the Cactus (I'll try to avoid my usual shouts of "TAKE OFF YOUR PANTS!"), then gaze lovingly into his eyes over a brandy old-fashioned sweet at Angelo's.
Sunday will be spent lounging around in the morning, followed by picking up Maddie at Ryan's house at noon, then doing whatever laundry needs to be done and preparing a list of things to take to Ireland.
Monday, Greg and I are going to Green Bay (finally!) to introduce Maddie to Barry and Laura, and to introduce myself and her to Greg's mom. It should be a fun day. Everything I've heard so far about his mom has been wonderful. She sounds like a great lady. I look forward to meeting the marvelous woman who brought my love into the world and protected him and nurtured him and helped transform him into the beautiful, intelligent, funny, compassionate, talented, loving individual he is today.
Mish mish, mush mush, I know. :)
Okay, so I guess it's not a full week, and it's not all work, per se. Just a full schedule.
Finished reading _The Da Vinci Code_ last night. Great book. Lots of references to factual information regarding everything from European architecture to The Louvre to the Priory of Sion and Knights Templar. Needless to say, it has spawned curiosity on my part. So I looked up Newton's _Philosophae Naturalis Principia Mathematica_ on Amazon.com, and good news! Hardcover copies are available for a mere $265. Or I can get the full, fancy edition for $647. Grr. In any case, it is nice to see someone writing books about female divinity without being too preachy or else enveloped in a haze of incense encapsulated by a crystal echoing chants of ooga-booga with Tarot cards flying around. Not only this, but I have long hypothesized (or at least, hoped) that Mary Magdalene was Jesus' wife and NOT the whore Christian history has painted her to be. It just makes more sense that she was his wife. Yes, I'm a bit biased. The Church has a bloody and vicious history, and the watered-down stories of peace and love that the kids get in Sunday school today certainly does not come from the Old Testament, and the New Testament was written YEARS after Jesus lived, mostly by people who weren't even born until after the crucifixion. There were a ton of gospels written, and only a select few were chosen for the Book - those that most closely detailed what the Church wanted people to believe. Books are books, people. Even the Bible had editors. In fact, hundreds of them over the centuries. But you know this. Not to mention the fact that, as a woman, I have a very hard time supporting a corporation which has spent the last 2,000 years demonizing my anatomy and anything associated with it, meanwhile using ancient pagan rituals as bait to lure people in. Look! We have frankincense and myrrh! Candles? Check. Hey - we dye eggs in the springtime, too! What a coincidence! Why not come over here and join in the fun (psst - by the way - your genitals are evil, and I know you're human and all, and it's your physiological make-up that causes you to want to have sex - procreation, blah blah blah - but you know what? fucking's evil. so don't do it. in fact, don't even jerk off. You'll go to Hell for even thinking about it, UNLESS you pray to this white guy over here).
AND HE WASN'T EVEN WHITE! Dammit!
Ugh. Don't get me started.
Which leads me to the next topic, that of Mel Gibson's "The Passion." I haven't seen it yet (hopefully I will this weekend while Maddie's with Ryan), but from what I've heard, it's bloody. About time somebody made a realistic re-enactment of the crucifixion. *If* the crucifixion happened (which I believe, historically speaking, it did), then it wasn't no walk in the park. The man was wearing a crown of thorns and carrying a 200-lb piece of wood intended for his grave, for cryin' out loud. If I'm going to watch Jesus' death, I'd better be crying in the aisles, sobbing with empathy for his suffering. Otherwise, the story isn't being told right. That guy went through some horrible, dark shit, and if I - a non-believer in Christ's divinity and Church-appointed role as One and Only True Son of God and Savior of Humanity - if I, who don't even worship the guy, am not reeling from the weight of the film so that I have a hard time even exiting the theatre, then I will be disappointed.
From all the hubbub I've heard, I won't be.