September Roundup

September: another month to have taught me not to chase the past.

At the beginning of the month, we went to Barcelona, and it just didn't have the same effect on me as it had the last few times we've been there. Something just felt different, and I realized it's time to see new places. Anyway, we did go to a few spectacular restaurants and did a bit of sight-seeing, but all in all, same damn lesson learned!

We had an absolutely perfect meal at Arume restaurant, located in a very dodgy part of town, but serving some of the best food I've ever had, like this house-made blackberry mojito that was actually black:

The pier is one of my favourite places in Barcelona, not just for the way the lights look on the water, but because it makes everyone slow down and just look

Jeff took me to an outstanding restaurant called Rao, where everything was so delicious and where I learned that I do not like octopus, no matter how well it's made. Also, if you ever go, you have to order their tomato bread. It's outrageously good.

The most insane dish was the roast beef with mustard ice cream. The ice cream tasted more like horseradish, and the combination nearly brought tears to my eyes. 

We also went to A Restaurant (that's the ...name) where we had tomato balsamic salad with tomato ice cream, and oh. my. god.  I don't know what's up with the savoury ice cream trend but it was outstanding.

The pool view from our shitty little hotel that I will never go to again lol 

Somehow Covid made the ..fountains...stop? But it was gorgeous nonetheless

Trashy tapas and sangria

The Rum Baba from A Restaurant on a UFO converted into a bowl, I think

Dan Flashes. That's my exact style.

My Something New for September was trying sea bass ceviche at Arume Bar, and that's a big goal for me because the idea of eating raw sea bass makes me very uncomfortable lol but...again...I figured if they really are such master of gastronomy, I'd be okay.  And I was. I mean, the next day I wasn't, but still, it was so good.

For my Learning Something,  I finished the Not a Life Coach audiobook by James Smith.  My favourite idea of his was how the way we spend our day has a value far superior to anything we ascribe to salary or social status. I've been thinking lately that I really miss my old reception job, which I worked at a sports centre when I was 17 years old. You'd think reception is the lowest end of the career ladder, but how can you qualify the joy something brings you, when it requires you to step outside of the parameters of what society has ascribed as valuable? Being in Ireland has exposed me to so many different fields of profession, and just witnessing property advisors, estate agents, lawyers, bankers, investors, and software managers go through their day to day stresses with no end or reward in sight has really made me reevaluate the economy of our personal time.

Also, James has a very palette-able voice, very soft, calm, and easy to take in, even when there are points one may not completely agree with. I'll hopefully have a chance to listen to his Not a Diet Book next.

For my Something Creative, I wanted to finish a painting I started months ago. I've mentioned it once or twice in the last few blog entries, and I thought enough was enough, and it was time to bring my masterpiece to life, to finish loose ends, and to show it off in all its shitty glory:

I first saw a really gorgeous version of this painting painted by artist J.Bish. It's meant to be a Canadian landscape, with the familiar glow of a roadside Tim's, illuminated by its traditional colours, with what I think is a sunrise behind it. It instantly reminded me of roadtrips to Montreal, of my mom, and of home. Okay, here's the original:

 Yes, it's a trillion times better, but a) I don't have a talent for painting and b) my painting matters to me because I bought the canvases and paints on my way back from physiotherapy, when my shoulders were at their worst, but I believed I would get through the pain by painting something that made me happy to look at.  Does the end result evoke more humiliation than pride? Yes. But at least I finished it. My mom was so kind, and actually said it reminded her of the Group of Seven.  It's really nice to still have her care enough to say this to a 35 year old adult.

I also wanted to get back to my Headspace sessions and challenged myself to do ten days in a row in the couple of weeks coming up to my birthday.  I don't yet feel enlightened but I'm learning to remember what negative thoughts are, especially when they accompany my chronic pain.

For my Fitness challenge, I wanted to complete a half-marathon in the week before my birthday. I've mentioned a few times that I love running the Canada Army Run as it's always a week or two before my birthday and is a little way I show acknowledgment to myself for I guess still being alive lol...this year it was a virtual run so I got to do it from Dublin, and I tailored my run to include a stopover for a cardamom bun because that's how I roll.

Because I couldn't run very much, the run actually took nearly four hours which was excruciating towards the end. I'm so happy I finished it, because I really wanted to throw in the towel.

Jeff's birthday was earlier in the month, and lets just say my Something Caring was taking this dude across town on a Luas. Enough said.

We stayed at the Gibson Hotel for Jeff's birthday, and had steak frites at Marco Pierre White. 

We had a balcony in our hotel room, and from there we watched young students in their residence apartments, which was very disturbing.  I also booked us spa access, and we had full use of the spa including the copper tubs, which we filled with boiling hot water, and sat in, watching the night sky.

The next morning, Jeff took the dinosaur with him to brunch, on the Luas again, down the street, and through town. Then, just as we got off the train by our house, the dinosaur flew off into the sky where he rose higher and higher until we could no longer see him. I'd like to think he's still up there, seeing the world, and maybe making someone else happy.

Then it was my birthday, and as expected, I turned 35. I'm still having a hard time understanding what it means when you have no idea how anything works or is supposed to look or be, but are in your mid-thirties. What am I missing here? LOL [Insert Deflection] One of my goals for my birthday was to just try to get through it without over-analyzing things, so that's what I'm still trying to do.

My family and Jeff's family were very lovely and made me feel very special. Jeff went out of his way to distract me from my misery, surprising me with mimosas in the morning, a salsa class in the afternoon, followed by a cocktail making class at Jameson Distillery, and dinner at La Cave, a little French restaurant run by a man from Normandy, with one waiter from Lyon, running between patrons, spilling things. It was really cute, and the food was fabulous - Jeff was even converted to the French Onion Soup!

When I fucked up the whiskey sour because my arms aren't strong enough to shake the ice!!!!!

At La Cave

We ended the night with a chocolate cake Jeff ordered from my favourite new bakery: Le Patissier. It was a chocolate mousse with crispy dark chocolate biscuit layer, and then another layer of nearly NSFW salted caramel. Unbelievable.  

Imagine the baker writing this lol

So anyway, I won't dwell on what turning 35 means to me, where I am in life, what I have and haven't accomplished...because nobody has ever thought their way into happiness, only out of it.  What I will dwell on is how good that cake was, because neuroses and worries and wishing things were different..those aren't real.  Cake, however, is.