how I spent my weekend, in chronological order 1. Valiantly maintained, begrudgingly and with twinging complains from various joints and muscles, the Dublin Marathon training effort.

2. Ate a delicious 1st anniversary brunch lovingly prepared by Man O' Mine. Lovingly prepared by Man O' Mine in his robe. Rowr. I made mimosas with Spanish cava acquired on our infamous absinthe-fueled romp through Barcelona in November to celebrate MO''s 30th birthday. Brunch is not proper brunch without boozy drinks of some kind.

3. Stood alarmed on a crowded Luas into town as an old man (seated) berated a small child (also seated) for not giving up his seat for 'aulder people who need it more than he does.' There was no one near us who was clearly in need of a seat. The child silently got up and climbed into his sister's lap. Yer man then said to me, 'There's a seat here for you.' !!! I mumbled some sort of flustered surprise and gingerly sat down, openly cringing. Too much effort had already been exerted for my (unwilling, offended) benefit, and, besides. I didn't want him giving out to me next! And I assumed the kid was his grandchild because of the rough way he was speaking to him (does that logic hold anywhere other than Dublin?) and maybe he was just teaching him some kind of public-etiquette lesson. But then, when we got to Stephen's Green, The Taskmaster said to the little lad, very formally, 'Thank you very much for giving up your seat.' I threw a high-pitched 'Yes, thank you!' over my shoulder and squirmed my way out of there. Was it because I was wearing heels? Did I appear woozy or fragile in any way? It was only one mimosa.

4. Had a good callback for a play I really wanted to be in but now I'm not sure because of other things I want to do and now I'm running around in circles in my head agh agh agh but still, it was a nice audition, even if it was punctuated loudly by sounds of the Pride Parade priding its proud way down Dame Street. (Earlier that morning, I'd heard a traffic report telling people what streets to avoid because of the 'Gay Parade.' It's not the GAY parade, it's the PRIDE parade. Every parade is a little bit gay.)

5. Invented a new drink with MO'!

Into a cocktail shaker put the following:

*A few glugs of concentrated elderflower syrup (suco di sambuco)
*The same number of glugs plus one of absinthe
*Four ice cubes

Shake. Then add enough cava or other bubbly wine to fill the shaker up two-thirds of the way. Gently stir. Strain into black martini glasses. Drink SLOWLY*.

*This was our first mistake of the evening**.
**Actually, my first mistake of the evening was allowing him to feed me absinthe again.

It looks like something out of Harry Potter, tastes like pure sin, and hits you like a lightning bolt from a forceful yet mischievous god. After much musing, we settled on a name.

....Plato's Cava.

Barrump-tish.

6. Forsook the dinner plans of a tasteful, romantic assortment of tapas and sangria at the new Havana on Georges Street and instead wandered into Mario's down the street for cheap carby sustenance because we were too drunk to deal with both going into town AND going to the play later. We actually cannot remember a single thing we talked about over dinner. Though I do remember telling myself, 'They've seen worse! It's Dublin!'

7. Barely made it to the play since every taxi in town was circling Croke Park waiting for U2 concertgoers to stumble out early. In our post-dinner, still-drunk-but-no-longer-deranged frenzy, we flirted with trying to cancel the (VERY EXPENSIVE) tickets and I made keypad-mashing attempts to call Ticketmaster but the directory assistance cogs couldn't give me a number to deal with a live human person, so we took our chances, and, OH, was it worth it. The glorious Footsbarn and their pan-Shakespearean romp Perchance to Dream made me blissfully happy to be seeing live, genre-crossing, experimental ensemble-based theatre, and I cannot remember the last time I saw this or actually took delight in a big production I have seen in Dublin.

8. Came home and had the most astonishingly decadent ice cream in existence: Green and Black's Chocolate Mint. It still lurks in the freezer, taunting me, because one cannot possibly consume more than two spoonfuls in a single sitting.

9. Crashed early because MO' had to go to Brussels early in the morning. Boo.

10. Sent MO' off at 4:30 AM. At least it was starting to get light outside. Yay Irish summers!

11. Awoke to find a text on my phone warning of imminent houseguests for two days, but with good reason: they were coming to Dublin for the U2 concert and had gotten extra tickets and were now giving me one. And life is good.

12. Spent the rest of the day being stripped near-naked and painted white in a trial run for next weekend's short film. This, however, happened in an old castle keep in Wicklow (the newest part of the house was finished in 1649, and it has an actual dungeon!) and the director's delightful mother made us a gorgeous roast chicken and potato lunch. I repeat, and life is good.  ¶ 10:15 PM