Notes on the weekend

• Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen was pretty good. Not fantastic, but not awful. There are those who say it's too long, and I do agree that it could easily have been a bit shorter. For those who criticise the believability of it all... I ask you: why did you go and see a movie about robot aliens from outer space in the first place? I went to see this film because I think Michael Bay does fantastic action sequences, even if plot is not his strong point. I also have enormous respect for actors that can be convincing when they're doing scenes with robots that aren't actually there at all (I mean, looking like you're actually scared of something that's supposedly chasing you but doesn't even exist outside of a PC monitor is pretty impressive). The CGI is also some of the best around, so I can forgive the movie for most of its faults (too long, a bit all over the show, a few plot holes and Megan Fox may be gorgeous but is also really annoying when she opens her mouth).


• The Irene Village Market is one of my favourite places to shop. For me, it's worth the trek through to Pretoria. I picked up some canvases at ridiculously low prices, a gorgeous rusted cup-and-saucer pot for my mini rose plant and loads of really yummy deli stuff (including the best hot chocolate powder ever, some Rose Cream Turkish Delight for my MIL, cabanossi for TSC (can't stand the stuff myself) and proper koffie koekies. Even TSC had a good time, and he hates markets.


• Our guest room is nearly finished. We have fixed and painted the walls and ceilings, repaired the crumbling windowsills, stripped the windowpanes and repainted those too, replaced the revolting light fixture and the ugly plastic cupboard handles, washed the carpet (which was NOT fun) and given it a complete clean. We're now busy moving the furniture back in, hanging the curtains and positioning the "artworks" I've created for the walls. I'm hoping to finish up this evening and take some pics to post here.


• Yesterday's Formula One Grand Prix was one of the more exciting races of the season. Mark Webber won his first race in his eight years of driving. I'm very glad for him, especially seeing he spent the winter recovering from a broken leg. I think it's also great fun that the competition between Webber and teammate Vettel is heating up and that Button is getting challenged by a host of drivers. The drivers of the McLaren team (which I have supported for the past nine years) had a mixed day. Kovalainen finished in the last points-paying position, which was pretty good, seeing he didn't have the benefit of all the new parts Lewis Hamilton had on his car for the race. Hamilton had a miserable time with a puncture at the first corner which sent him right to the back of the pack. Both drivers seem to be more competitive though, and are using their KERS-equipped cars (kinetic energy recovery system) nicely.


• Our church has started a new series called "Supernatural", which looks like it will be interesting. Last night's sermon was on Lucifer. Fascinating stuff! Can't wait for next week's on Angels and Demons (the beings, not the movie).


• TSC went back to varsity today. Shame, he was not keen, poor man. He was up and out of the house at 6am to miss the traffic. I admire him - I am not a morning person at the best of times, and getting up in dark in the freezing winter mornings is pure torture to me. I'm lucky in that I live 15 minutes away from the office, so I only have to leave the house just after 8am. In summer I do my exercise in the mornings, but in winter I do it after work so that I can postpone the crawling / falling out of bed until 7.20 am. This is me, every day:

Things I take for granted

Having Vusi stay with us for a few days has really highlighted how much I take for granted. His wonder at and enjoyment of things I see as completely normal, like having a microwave or a TV or being able to drive to work instead of walking, makes me take stock of how truly blessed I am and be grateful for what I have.

Going to movies, eating at a restaurant or being able to bath every night are suddenly awesome privileges I enjoy instead of routine parts of life. Having my own computer and a job that covers the bills (even if it's not my first choice in what I'd like to do) are bonuses that millions of people don't ever get to have.

Vusi's gratitude at the smallest things - a jacket and old cellphone that TSC no longer uses and a shirt I bought for a friend that didn't fit - stirs me to want to help those who have less than I do. TSC is helping him to draw up a well-formatted CV to try to get him more work, and such a small thing that takes up maybe an hour of our time may perhaps help this young guy to climb up another step in the food chain.

It's that whole starfish story again - the moral is help those you can... it may change a life more than you can imagine. In South Africa, where there's a beggar on every street corner, it's good to remember that. I don't believe giving R5 to every guy who asks me for money is the answer (I'd be broke in two days), but I do think that instead of letting the problem of poverty overwhelm me, I should do what I can do to help.

Small things like donating my old clothes, buying baby food for a struggling mom or teaching someone basic computer skills CAN make a difference. My mom is on the committee of a children's home and I'm sure there are ways I can pitch in there. Hmmm... ideas...

Vusi may be heading home tomorrow morning, but he's definitely leaving us with lots to think about.

And I leave you with this to think about...

Me on movies

Yesterday we had no phones / internet at work for most of the day. Not Telkom's fault this time. Now that the overdue account has been settled we're back online. Which is great - most of the stuff I do depends on either phone or internet.

I'm using this as a getting-up-to-speed post on a few movies I've seen lately because I can't keep my opinions to myself. Your opinions are also welcome, of course.

Ice Age 3:
I was not expecting much from this movie. The second sequel is usually not worth watching, in my opinion. But I was pleasantly surprised by this movie. It's not brilliant, by any means, but it is an enjoyable, silly candy-floss film. And it's nice to see one of those every once in awhile. My only real bone with it is that Diego didn't get as many good lines... he's my favourite :-)

Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian:
I didn't choose to see this movie. The first one was more than enough for me. But we have a chap called Vusi staying with us for a few days (helping TSC to paint the house) who has never been to the cinema before, so we took him to Montecasino to see this one. He loved it, and watching him laugh made me laugh too. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Daft, but with a few good laughs. I wouldn't recommend it, but I'm glad Vusi enjoyed it. Afterwards he said, "Everything else seems so small now, after that big screen!"

Seven Pounds:
We took this out on DVD over the weekend because people keep telling me "you HAVE to see it!" I don't know why, actually. It wasn't great. Without spoiling things, as soon as I saw the jellyfish and took notice of the all the sick folks, I guessed the supposed "big twist ending", so there were no surprises for me. When a movie is supposed to be a surprise, not having one kind of makes it pointless. It was just long and sad. So we watched Crocodile Dundee II afterwards and the total eighties corny-ness (yes, it's a word. In my world) of it all banished the misery of Seven Pounds.

What movies have you seen lately that are worth watching?

If we had a South African version of Crocodile Dundee, I'm sure this type of scene would appear in it... (In fact, I think there was something in one of Schuster's flicks)...

Dear Ruby,

In the great tradition of your blog, I am celebrating your special day with a letter.

It was lovely to see you for supper at Moyo on Friday, even if you were a bit late ;-) The food and atmosphere were great, as were your friends. But seeing you and catching up was my best bit. Of course!

I hope you are surviving your slaves at work today and that you get spoilt by friends and family. You are such a special person - full of laughter and fun, incredibly generous and always game for anything - and I wish you every good thing for today and the year ahead. And always, in fact.

Thanks for being awesome, Rubyshoes. Instead of singing happy birthday, imagine TSC and I serenading you as such: Moyo, moyo moyo moyo... moyo, moyo moyo...

Hehe... Take care, friendster. *Hugs*

Tamara

PS: Please let me know when you have a gap in your insane life between studying, working and socialising so I can give you the photos of your birthday supper!

It's FRIDAY!

TSC's eye is doing much better. Thank goodness. Although Damaria reckons being married to Darth Vador would be fun, I'd be scared he'd turned around one day, breathing all heavy-like and say "I AM YOUR FATHER" or some such crap ;-)

I managed to get all my freelance deadline-is-today work done yesterday and invoice, as well as putting together a kick-ass birthday gift for my mother in law, so I am in a fairly good mood, despite the fact that I am bored out of my mind at work.

Boss has been in Cape Town and then had meetings this morning, so I am waiting for her to get back to clarify various importnant things before I can get on with anything.

We are going to the lovely Ruby's birthday supper tonight, which should be fun, and then watching rugby with friends tomorrow. What are you up to this weekend?

I want to watch movies, read magazines, paint walls, play in my garden and generally enjoy being in my house. Oh, and try out a new biscuit recipe. This Sunday at church, the last week of our Sex in the City series, we are having ladies-only and men-only services which should be interesting.

On that note, I leave you with a Friday funny:

Daffy Duck on a dirty weekend calls hotel reception and asks for a condom.The receptionist says, shall I put them on your bill?

Daffy replies...
Don't be thucking thupid I'd thufficate!!!!

A real eyesore

Poor TSC! Although it is his own fault, silly man.

We are repainting the upstairs rooms in our house at the moment (adding a bit of colour to two feature walls and giving a fresh lick of paint to the walls that have marks from the paintings the previous owners had hung). TSC is very handy in this regard as he spent three years at a painting and waterproofing company. But with his eye op, one would think he'd be careful while scraping old paint off the ceilings. Because he wasn't wearing safety goggles, yesterday he managed to get a fleck of paint in the tender eye that was operated on two weeks ago. It scratched the inside of his eyelid and seemed to get stuck there.

He tried washing it out with water, then with tear gel, but nothing worked. I suggested that maybe it would come out during the night, but this morning his eye was even more swollen and red and he said it felt like the paint was still there. So he made me get a torch and try to get the paint fleck out with an earbud (Q-tip). I worried that this would cause more irritation, which it did, but he was insistent.

He was in such pain that I suggested he move his doctor's appointment forward. No can do - the doc is on a two-week holiday. His associate can only see TSC tomorrow and wants to charge him a ridiculous amount.

I spoke to my mom (who is a GP) and she reckons he should go to a hospital with an opthalmology unit and see a doctor in casualty. I phoned him to tell him this and he said it's feeling a bit better, so he'll wait and see if it's ok by this afteroon. Typical! I hate seeing him in pain, but he won't let me or anyone else try to help him. Grrr... Love him so much but wish I could just throw him over my shoulder and take him to the doctor right now!

At present, he looks something like this:

The post with more about Zanzibar

In which I use some words, as well as some more pictures.

It feels like forever ago that we were in Zanzibar, but this post has been hanging around in draft, so I figured I'd finish it. Also, looking at the pictures makes me happy.

Our flight from Joburg to Zanzibar left at 7.45 on Saturday morning, which meant we were at the airport very early. For the first time, a tangible excitement stirred in my stomach as we made our way to the international departure gate - the same one we'd left through when we visited the USA. Once again, the flight had been full and we'd been split up, TSC in one row and me in another (this always seems to happen to us).

My seat was in the last row in the plane - my worst place to sit. It's stuffy and very noisy becuase you're right by the engines. If you look out the window, that's all you'll see. There was a group of men onboard, all heading to Zanzibar for the same period as us for a bachelor party. Some of the group had been separated and were sitting near the front of the plane. They agreed to swap seats with TSC and I, so we got to sit together after all, and we didn't have to put up with all the loud joking and general stag-party nonsense in the back of the plane.

By the time we landed, the bachelors had more than a few drinks in them and had started singing Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of their lungs - apt, seeing Freddie Mercury was born in Zanzibar.

Arriving in sunny, warm Zanzibar from freezing Johannesburg was like stepping into a hot bath - my senses seemed to come alive again and the excitement tingled in my fingertips. A sign planted in low-growing groundcover welcomed us - SMILE. U R IN ZANZIBAR!

The drive to the hotel was quiet - just TSC and I in the airconditioned old Toyota mini-bus that hummed along, hooting occasionally to warn intrepid cyclists travellign along the narrow roads with their businesses strapped to their bikes (from reams of fabric to bunches of fruit and even pieces of timber).

After making small talk with our driver, we lapsed into silence, taking in the saturated island colours. Everything seems richer - the greens greener, the bright patterns on the fabric almost luminous... it's like seeing in Technicolor.

There are palmtrees everywhere, interspersed with bananas, breadfruit and even cloves. The air is moist and fragrant.

Here and there you catch glimspes of sandy white beaches and azure seas before the dense tropical forests close in again, dotted with small stone houses and cows tethered to low bushes. Children race from the small local schools, scaring the long-legged chickens scrathing in the dirt on shaded verandas.

Dala-dalas (the local share taxis that consist of small trunks with a roof and seats in the loading area at the back) stop higgledy-piggledy along the roadsides and drivers hoot good-naturedly at each other as they pass by.

Photo: A dala-dala stops to drop off a passenger.


Later, at our beautiful hotel, Neptune Pwani, we are greeted by friendly staff with a nod and a "Jambo" as they pass. We make our way down to the beach and marvel at the fine sand - so different from the coarse sand of South Africa's East Coast beaches.

We bargain with the local "beach boys" who are friendly even if you make it clear you are not interested in their wares. Many speak snippets of English, Italian, Portuguese, Spanish and even Zulu as well as the national language, Swahili. It all depends which nations frequent the nearest hotels.

On the beach you can find all manners of services... You can organise a tour to snorkel, swim with dolphins, see the local monkeys, visit Stone Town or explore the local spice farm. You can buy handmade curios, some even customised with your name, or have a massage.

On the Monday, I had a beautiful henna artwork painted on my hand by a lady named Cassandra (below).

The henna painted on my hand:

At low tide, you can walk out for almost a kilometer into the ocean at some parts of the island. The water is lukewarm, very salty and incredibly clear.

The wind-made patterns on the sandbar an hour and a half's walk from our hotel.

Local guides will take you on a walking tour out to the reef, for a price. We saw starfish, sea cucumbers, sea anenomes, fish, an old man catching an octopus, four poisonous sea snakes *shudder* and crabs.

One of many bright starfish we saw on our reef walk:

What a holiday!

Catch-up

Last week was a horrible 'flu week. I felt weak and shaky and like I couldn't concentrate for long periods of time. I spent most of the week under the duvets as standing up seemed to make the nausea worse, nevermind the dizziness. I cancelled life group (which hardly ever happens) on Wed evening in case I made anyone else sick. By Thursday, I was thankfully feeling ok again and turned my PC on to blog and check mails for the first time in ages.


It was yet another realization of how much I love the online world. I missed reading everyone's posts and leaving comments. I missed posting on this blog and those little emails from friends throughout the day.


Despite being booked off by the doctor for the whole week, I decided I was definitely well enough to be back at work on Friday. It was good to have people to talk to again and things to keep me busy and I actually enjoyed writing my press releases, which I normally hate.


Then I got a phone call from my mom. They had made plans to go away to Hazyview from Saturday to Monday to see my gran for her birthday. My brother was supposed to go with them, along with his friend, but he couldn't make it anymore (I thought it was because he had a supplementary exam, but apparently it was because he had failed the supp and had just discovered he had to start winter school on Mon). My mom asked if there was any way I could get a day's leave for Monday so that TSC and I could go with in his place.


I said I felt uncomfortable asking my boss for the day off when I'd been off sick for most of the week and that we had planned to go to the Bloggirls event and watch the rugby with friends on Sat. She said that if we couldn't go they'd have still have to pay for the hotel room (dinner, bed and breakfast) and lose a fair amount of money, so would I swallow my embarrassment and talk to my boss.


I stopped to think for a moment. See, I made a decision three years ago (at my grandfather's 80th birthday lunch) that I will take each and every opportunity I get to spend time with my grandparents while they're still here. To be able to celebrate another birthday with my gran is a big deal - after 70, I think every birthday is a milestone to be celebrated. Aside from that, it would save my parents losing money and allow us to enjoy a weekend away with them in a beautiful lakeside location...


I chatted to my boss, who was in a great mood and kindly agreed to give me the day off. I spent the remainder of the day trying to be as productive as possible to convince her of my gratitude. Then I raced home to pack a bag and load our cats in the car to drop them off with my brother for the weekend.


I let the girls know that I wouldn't be able to make Bloggirls after all, which I was pretty bleak about - I so look forward to the monthly events - and told Peter, our "rugby" friend, that we wouldn't be there for his braai either. And off we drove to Pretoria in peak-hour traffic. Yuck.


The next morning we drove through to Hazyview, stopping for brunch along the way. It's about a four-hour drive to the place we stayed at, Hulala Lakeside Lodge. This is it...



It was a lovely weekend. We had a fireplace in our room, which kept the chilly nights at bay. The food was very good and we enjoyed a cocktail or two in the Rock Inn Bar (a clever pun, seeing the place is built around these giant boulders that are now indoors). TSC and I paddled around the Da Gama Dam and we took a walk through the bush with my folks.

On Sunday morning, my gran drove through from Graskop and we gave her the presents we'd brought along (of the pamper pack I had put together, she was oddly most enamoured with the gel pads for her shoes to stop them chafing her). We had lunch on the deck and then my parents organised a little cruise around the dam on the hotel's boat. We saw a fish eagle and a few kingfishers, and when we got back to shore there were four zebra grazing on the lawn. They're very tame and I took some pics (which I have yet to download).

My gran seemed to enjoy her birthday celebrations and I loved seeing her face when my mom told her that her birthday present is a trip with my mom to the Victoria Falls (she was born in Livingstone, Zambia, where the falls are, but hasn't been back in over 60 years). She's such a gentle soul and we share a love of cats and murder mysteries. She managed to depart without getting teary, which usually happens, and headed back to Graskop with her car filled with gifts.

On Monday we drove back to freezing Joburg, stopping at the quaint Casterbridge centre in White River for my mom and I to browse the craft stores.

It was such a lovely unexpected treat, and although I felt bad that my brother didn't get to go, he seemed to make the most of not having my folks around for the weekend and spent most of it partying up a storm.

Human again

Sorry for the extended absence. It turned out that I didn't have TSC's headcold, but a lovely case of gastric flu. The range of symptoms is impressive - from nausea to fever, diarrhoea, aches and pains, blocked sinus, headaches, coughing, dizziness and general misery... Fun.

At least it's not malaria. The doc did a blood test to check. I am such a baby with needles I was more scared of the jab than the possibility of malaria. At least the nurse was quick. She didn't even give me a chance to swoon ;-) And I tried a new doctor. My other one is lovely, but I feel like she just wants to put me on antibiotics everytime there's the slightest hint of a cold.

Today I feel a bit better. I can actually walk downstairs without holding the handrail and managed to sleep through the night with no rushing to the bathroom or sweating the sheets wet. Progress!

I am thoroughly bored of daytime TV though. What crap! Is it just me, or do all soap operas share one script-writer? I don't know the names of any of the characters, but the plots are pretty much identical.

At least I can think straight enough to do some work today. Sorting through emails... exciting stuff. I am more cheered by the thought that I can do some blogreading. Yay! Off to do that now.

I know I'm being sporadic again

Sorry. Three-point update for today and I'll try to be more forthcoming when I relocate my brain:

• TSC's first eye op went well. Was very stressful. Having stitches in your eyeball must be truly horrible. Neither of us slept last night - he was in too much pain.
• He has given me his head cold / flu (waiting to see which it is). My sinuses feel like they're going to explode. Charming.
• I'm in that leave-me-alone-I-want-to-curl-up-in-a-ball-and-cry place right now. Clients and work suck. After having 17 people over on Wed night for life group, house looks like a hurricane ran through it. Drain still not fixed. Need to go now. Self-pity threatening to drown me. Need to grow up.

Till next time (when I will hopefully be far less miz).

Zanzibar memories...

Swimming with dolphins at Kizimkazi...

The fresh flowers that are floated in the hotel's fountain at reception everyday...

Early morning views from our room...

Sunset palmtrees on the beach...

Warm weather... such a nice change from feezing cold Johannesburg...

The sad bit? It's over. And we've hit the ground running again with the overflowing drain that welcomed us home, TSC getting sick, my nagging clients back on the case and the fact that TSC goes in for his first eye operation today.

But I have set a beautiful Zanzibar scene as my desktop background and everytime I see it, I smile. It was an awesome experience and I will treasure the memories forever.

Freezing, freaking out Friday...

It's freezing cold and I'm freaking out because I have a big freelance client meeting this afternoon, which I think will be WAY over my head. Thankfully there's a nice, nearly-full bottle of Rescue Remedy on my desk.

And... tomorrow morning we leave for ZANZIBAR!!! Can't believe it. Can't believe it's actually arrived. And I'm finding it strange to believe that we'll be somewhere warmer where I won't have to wear thick tights, thermal vests and leather gloves at all times (poor locals... be prepared to be blinded by my bikini-clad paleness).

I tried to type with my gloves on this morning. I have really bad circulation in my hands and feet (genetic, my mother tells me) and after typing for about two minutes, I can't feel my fingers. But typing with gloves on looks som egthing l;ijkde gthi...

So I'll just run my hands under hot water every half hour or so to restore feeling. Until tomorrow, that is. I can handle that!

Have a fabulous weekend. Like one of the infinite number of Terminator sequels, I'll be back. Next Wednesday.

Brrrrr!

I cannot get over how cold it is today. Seeing we are not allowed heaters in the office, I have resorted to carrying my hot beanbag thingey around with me all day to restore feeling in my fingers so that I am able to type.

Our internet was up for about an hour yesterday, in which time I managed to write my list post, read one or two blogs and repsond to email. Then it went down again.

Our technician fixed it this morning. Apparently, our adaptor plug was faulty and our router wasn't making contact. Nearly three days without internet because of a stupid plug!

*GROWL*

TSC is back and is lounging around at home on his holiday. Unfair!

It's good to have him back though, even if it makes it harder to get up in the mornings - snuggling with him is an infinitely more attractive option than freezing my bum off waiting for our internet to work at the office.

And my haircut turned out very nicely, so I am feeling slightly better about myself (I get miserable in winter because I look like the Michelin man under my gazillions of layers). My hairdresser rocks - sweet, good at what she does and reasonably priced... it's a winning combination.

Off to catch up on my mountain of emails and blog reading and re-heat my beanbag.

A post of lists

Things I did on the weekend:

• Worked till midnight on Friday to finish my big freelance project.
• Missed TSC.
• Worked till 14h00 on Saturday to finish said project.
• Had breakfast with the parentals, which was great.
• Had coffee with a friend and discussed the possibility of hosting art classes in my garage.
• Dyed the big white cotton rug my mom gave me. It's now dark brown and will match the lounge and hopefulyl be kitty pawprint proof. It was damn difficult to do on my own though - so heavy when it's wet! I'm amazed that I too am not dark brown to match the lounge.
• Finished painting and decorating the coat rack we've made for our room.
• Painted two canvases lilac to match the guest room. Added thickly painted branches and stuck on some velvety cherry blossom flowers to make a 3D work of art.
• Missed TSC some more.
• Bought my dad's birthday present.
• Bought a pair of skinny jeans (finally).
• Bought some new bras so I could chuck out the ancient falling-apart ones.
• Blew my budget (see above).
• Went to church.
• Dreamt of hosting art classes in my garage.

Things I did on Monday:

• Spent a frustrated half-day at work with no internet access.
• Went home and worked to finish my big freelaance project.
• Wrote a press release about programmable logic controllers. Coz I know so much about that stufff. Or not.
• Tried not to freeze in the icy cold house.
• Went for a piping hot supper and some good red wine with departed colleagues Icing and DK, which was awesome.
• REALLY missed TSC.

Things on the list for today:

• Say goodbye to latest departing colleague, JK.
• Try not to freeze in the office (we have no heaters).
• Have my hair cut (yay!).
• Welcome TSC back.
• Snuggle in a warm bed.
• Discuss the possibility of hosting art classes in our garage.

Something you won't normally find on this blog...

...A post about sex. Well, not so much sex itself, but the fact that our church is talking about sex.

I don't believe in Bible-bashing folks over the internets (or at all, actually) and tend to only talk about my faith when asked or if I feel it's relevant, but seeing I had a couple of comments asking for more info on "designer sex", here goes...

The church I'm part of is called GodFirst and you can read all about what it's up to, where we meet etc at www.godfirst.co.za.

In response to phillygirl's question (Is your church the one with that nonsensical billboard on Rivonia road then), the answer is yes. That's our church. Here's the blurb that's on the website as an intro (written by PJ, head of the leadership team), which explains what it's all about:

"Hi,
Sex is a major part of life in Jozi, isn’t it? And, I am pleased to say, a major part of mine! Last year 41 000 Joburgers got along to Sexpo. Married couples need to spice up their sex life, unmarried people are mostly trying to get lucky…yep, safe to say that Joburg loves sex. God does too. He actually invented it. But I’m sure you’ve also noticed that amidst all the good stuff, sex can also bring some hectic challenges, and can make or break a life. So, I am taking eight weeks to open up some of the gems from God’s Instruction Manual. The bible’s got a lot to say about this stuff – it’s actually got a whole book devoted to sex that gets pretty steamy. Prudish fundamentalists should please take a Valium before setting out for GodFirst. We kick off on Sun 17 May talking about The Sex God, then move onto the one about porn and masturbation, then designer sex, then gay sex, then finding ‘the one’ and mending broken hearts, then great marriage, great sex, and end up with looking at being a real man and a real woman.Looking forward to seeing you there."

*blushing*

Erm... moving right onto the next question:

Sass asked, "What is designer sex?", along with Damaria Senne and Caz, If you really want to know, you can download the sermon from 31 May. But the short of it is that "designer sex" means sex where you get to make up all the rules and write you own moral code. Which fits in very much with the dominant world view at the moment - you decide your own truth. That's ok up to the point where you question Robert Mugabe's truth, I guess. Anyway... If you want more info, go listen to the sermon - it's way better than my explanations and mumblings.

The best bit about the series, in my opinion, is that PJ is doing live SMS Q&A sessions at the end of most services. So people get to send him their burning questions via text message, which he then answers from stage. Must be quite nerve-wracking (people aren't shy with their Q's), but it's been brilliant so far. Come and see on Sunday if you like.

K. End of the sex talk on this here blog for a bit. Back to the boring stuff. Sorry ;-) Hope you all have a lovely weekend. I'll be trying to keep warm and doing a whole heap of craft projects while TSC's away.

Same old, same old

I feel like I'm stuck in Groundhog Day.

Writing press releases is for the birds, I tell ya. There's only so many ways to skin a cat / push a product / spin a story.

And it's not like it's difficult. I could do this stuff in my sleep. It's just dull.

Occasionally something super exciting comes across my desk (as occasionally as my husband picks watching a travel documentary over a Blue Bulls rugby game, that is). The rest of the time, it's the same old nonsense. The trick, PR gurus tell me, is to disguise it so that it doesn't sound like nonsense.

As a journo, I get press releases from other PR people all the time. I have a list of all the things that irritate me about these releases, and when I write my own, I try not to do these things.

Occasionally, however, I just don't care enough... when I'm writing about the 50 millionth bloody new product distributor the client has signed with, for instance.

Then you might find the occasional flowery sentence littered with adjectives (I recently received a release from a music PR person about some unheard-of singer that had no less than NINE adjectives in the first sentence).

You might find completely unnecessary information that will be of no interest to anyone other than the client (like the release I was sent that detailed every single role a particular actress had taken from age five [she's now in her late 30s] before getting to the point).

You might even, on a very, very rare occasion (if I have been overdosing on Rescue Remedy when I see things are about to reach boiling point at the office, for instance) find me doing the absolutely unthinkable and mixing up there/their or its/it's. But that's only under dire circumstances when the ability to write English has abandoned me completely.

Wait, actually, I'm pretty sure that happens quite regularly on this blog...

Thank goodness this is just a half-day job. I feel like PR eats my soul. At least it pays, I suppose ;-)

The duck of dread*

Today is one of those days where I have a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach and I don't even know why.

It could be because I have a mammoth freelance project due for Monday and I don't know how I'll ever finish it. It might be because at life group tonight we have to talk to our group (comprising mainly single guys) about Sunday's church service on "designer sex" (our church is currently doing an eight-week series on sex).

It may be because TSC is leaving me home alone to go hunting for five days on Friday and he won't be there to light the fire for us every evening (he is so much better at keeping the fire going than I am). Or maybe the dread is simply hanging around because the drama at the office has finally got to me.

Or... maybe I'm confusing dread with the ridiculously sore muscles I have from yesterday's ab class that have coupled with the shakes I have from too much caffeine to make me look like someone plugged me into a wall socket and chucked a bucket of water over me.

I just want today to be done with.

I lie. That's not all I want.

I'd also love an office chair with a heater in it, a way to get bikini-ready in a week (that actually works), time to paint and money to buy various things (a new kettle, seeing ours just died. And a server for our dining room. And an electric blanket that fits our bed seeing ours is two sizes too small. And, and, and... the list goes on).

Blah...

Anyone have a cure for dread? I have a feeling someone is going to prescribe getting over myself as the best course of action. May not be a bad idea ;-)

*Because if dread was an animal, it would be a big grey duck sitting on my head. Wonder what the shrinks would say about THAT?

Overload!

Seriously... this weekend was packed! Awesome, but packed. And Monday was infinitely less awesome, but packed with total drama. Again.


Let's do the fun stuff first... TSC and I invited six people we don't know really well for supper on Friday. It turned out to be a great evening. We enjoyed winter comfort food and good red wine while we chatted about everything from church to jobs to politics...


We clicked especially well with one couple and they only ended up leaving at 2am on Saturday morning after we'd been through a lot more good red wine. So nice to be at the start of a new friendship!


Saturday was spent buying TSC a new monitor for the computer I'm getting him (so that I can claim my notebook back) and then rushing to Bloggirls at Cafe Sophia. What a cool restaurant! Amazing tapas at reasonable prices, and four or five different types of sangria by the jug.


And what cool people! Some of the usual suspects, like Phillygirl and Angel (and Arkwife and Ruby who arrived late after I'd already left). And some new faces. I finally got to meet Boldly Benny (who I have been reading for ages. She went to the last Bloggirls but I was sick and missed it). I love her writing and so enjoyed meeting her IRL - different from how I pictured her, but just as gorgeous, glamourous and absolutely lovely.


I also met two people I have just recently started reading, Cybersass and Mellisoo. Cybersass was wearing the most awesome multi-wear dress she made herself and entertained us with stories of the life of an actress (kissing a co-star you have no interest in, for example). Mellisoo was quieter but has the best kick-ass sense of humour and a keen interest in Mojitos. I am so glad I got to meet both of them.

Unfortunately I had to dash off early for the stupid rugby. TSC had originally told me it was a 7pm game, so we'd said to my folks we'd watch it at their house. I sped home from Bloggirls, picked up TSC and whizzed through to Pretoria. Thankfully, one of my best friends, Noo, called to say her hubby was away for the weekend and asked if we could meet up. Instead of watching the men chasing the funny-shaped ball, we went to Fego's for some good coffee and a catch-up.

After that, it was supper with the folks at Brooklyn Mall. Sunday we drove home, madly cleaned the house and then had TSC's best friend and his girlfriend over for a braai before church, where we served on both services and got home at about 9.

It was super fun, but I felt like I needed a weekend to recover from the weekend. No chance of that though... Monday dawned chilly and ominous (as Mondays tend to do). I knew what lay ahead and felt like there was a big, cold stone in the bottom of my stomach.

TSC dropped me off for work (he had my car as his was in for a service). Icing didn't show up for work - she had left a note explaining to Boss that she wasn't coming back (even though she officially had 9 working days left). Chips was struggling to get hold of her fiance who had been on a boys' weekend in the bush. She then got a phone call from his mom to say he was in ICU after a car accident. Thankfully he was ok - just in shock. She left immediately.

Then JK resigned. She's found a job that pays three times better. Then a big press conference that was scheduled for today for one of our clients got moved to two weeks' time and we had to frantically let the media know.

It was an eventful day that ended up with Coach coming for supper. But that's a whole other post. How was your weekend / the start of your week?

Assorted stuff

I am typing from my bed again. Not, I may add, because I have taken another sick day (although I do still feel miz), but because our internet and email at work are down. Again. Because of Telkom.

I know that I have cursed Telkom in the past, but today I am glad that at least my ADSL line at home is working. While the office is down, at least I can still download my work mail at home, research online and communicate with clients. And I can do it all from under my duvet!

If I didn't feel so crappy and sick, I'd probably be celebrating ;-)

TSC is writing a big test today, so he'll be home early. I've made him sick too, bad me. I'm looking forward to an evening of just vegging and hopefully getting better together (although you know what admin sick men are, so it may not turn out that way. Hehehe).

We had our church life group last night, I was helping present the "Get Connected" evening (for people considering church membership) the night before that, and Monday night was spent tidying up the house after the baby shower I hosted on Saturday.

Which reminds me... My friend had her baby yesterday evening, on her husband's birthday. Little Ryan was only due on 16 June, but decided to arrive early and make his daddy's day. He's a healthy 3.34kg and 48cm long. Both his parents still feel like they're in a dream. So do I - it's so weird to think of our buddies as parents!

I jokingly told Ryan's dad, Richard, that he'll never get all the glory on his birthday ever again, because Ryan will always take precedence. He smiled and answered, "Yes - but at least now I'm guaranteed cake every year!"

Good point, that. Hmmm... cake... It's lunchtime. Off to heat up my curry then.

Random Wednesday

Today feels as random as a polar bear wearing a floral shirt in your living room.

I'm seriously hoping that hasn't happened to any of you because it will just totally wreck my analogy.


Why is today random? I dunno. If I knew it would cease to be random, wouldn't it, clever?


The office is as quiet as a morgue. Roo is off work for exams, JK is off sick, Boss is off galivanting in Durban and Chips, Icing and I are at the office, wishing there was some wet paint that we could watch dry.


So let me tell you a random story from my cache of millions to match the random mood of the day. It is, of course, about my family. And if I have told it here before, I'm sorry. But I don't think I have.


When I was 14, about to turn 15, I was stuck for a birthday party idea. Having already done paintball, a picnic, a play and loads of other things, I decided to go with a purple party, where everyone had to wear my favourite colour.


It was going to be a girls' night at my parents' house with pizza, videos and pillow fights (no - not in our underwear! Get your minds out the gutter. Freaks).


My gran was visiting at the time, along with one of my cousins. And my crush, Brendan, had decided he would come along too. I told him he'd feel out as the only guy around, but he insisted he wnated to be there (come to think of it, which guy wouldn't - loads of pillow-fighting chicks and pizza all to himself). I stupidly decided it was a sign of dedication and agreed taht he could tag along.


The evening kicked off to a great start - people turned up wearing various shades of mauve and violet, and the pizza was dished out in box-loads. But while we young innocents were awaiting Brendan's arrival and gushing over whatever chick flick we were watching, my mother had deviously opened a bottle of bubbly in the kitchen for the family.


My gran, who has the alcohol tolerance of a flea, had two sips and was tipsy. When Brendan eventually arrived, she was giggling like a school girl and blushing down to her elbows.


In between my psycho friend Lauren telling me that she was going to smother herself (because I wasn't spending enough time with her alone) and watching my (supposed) friend Nikki flirting outrageously with Brendan, I saw my gran swan into the guest suite, where we were listening to our teeny bopper music and chattering away like Alvin and the Chipmunks.


She sweetly (too sweetly I see now) asked me if I had "that Macarena song" on CD. I said I did and asked why. She declined to answer and floated off again.


Suspicious, I followed her into the kitchen, where she was practising the Macarena dance. It was very cute to see Granny doing the whole dance routine completely out of order, but it instantly stopped being cute when she suddenly announced to my family that she planned to take off her prosthetic boob, strap it on top of her head, and perform the Macarena on the kitchen table for all my friends and Brendan.


I screeched.


She giggled and made as though to undo the top button on her frilly granny-blouse to get afore-mentioned boob out.


I screeched again, this time much louder and with gusto.


Needless to say, I was NOT going to let that happen.


I turned on my heels with great haste and made to fetch that bloody CD and burn it immediately.


That was when I realised that Brendan was standing right behind me, stifling his laughter. I turned the colour of a fire engine and wished I could dissolve into a puddle, wicked witch style.


Ten years down the line, I can laugh (sometimes out loud so that it scares people) when I recall that moment of teenage embarrassment. And I can be thankful for such an entertaining family. And a gran (and maybe even backstabbing Nikki) that definitely saved me from any involvement with Brendan (who went on to get his new girlfriend pregnant the next year and then skip off to England).


There's my random memory for today. And my parting words... your family may be more normal than you imagined!

Home post

I have another nasty head cold and am blogging from my bed amidst a sea of tissues and flu meds.

Have just read Fiela's Child in one sitting (it was actually a pretty good book) and am now thoroughly bored. You know how you fantasise about taking a sick day to recover from work and stress and catch up on all the things you actually feel like doing, whether it's watching random TV or reading magazines? And then the reality is that you feel so crap that all you want to do is sleep and write a whiney blog post about how crap you feel?

So I'm trying to cheer myself up by sifting through old photos. There are some cool ones that capture awesome memories...

My 21st birthday party (the dress-up theme was the elements and TSC and I went as fire); my dad and I on the beach when I was a toddler; me holding my baby brother when he was just a few months old; my 15th birthday party (paintball); my gran riding an ostrich on our holiday in Oudshoorn (sp?); my parents' cat when she was still a tiny kitten...

Those are the printed out photos from before we had a digital camera. Here are a few that make me smile from my PC's archives:

The table flowers at our wedding:

Sapphire, our timid cat, dressed by TSC in my teddy's glasses:

Me, posing at the entrance to The Lost City on our weekend at Sun City.

TSC on horseback on Noordhoek beach - our 1-year wedding anniversary.

Photos definitely cheer me up. I reckon I'll spend the remainder of my bed-rest compiling a CD of the photos I want to have printed out. There's still loads of bare walls in this house to be filled!

I'd love to know about some of the photos that make you smile!

My X-men

Dash reckons I should write a post about each of my ex-boyfriends. Personally, I think this will be boring for you, but it might actually be therapeutic for me, so I'm going to do it anyway.

Let's start with the first kiss story, actually. I've mentioned it on this blog before, but only in passing.

I was 15 at the time and on exchange at a school in Melbourne, Australia. It was the first time I'd been overseas on my own and I was using the chance to do everything I'd never get away with at home.

I'd been told that near the end of the school term I was spending there, there would be a formal dance. It was my first ball and I excitedly shopped until I found a slinky strapless sparkly blue dress to wear. Now, about a date...

My host "sister" Emma (from the family I was staying with), told me she'd set me up with a nice boy named Ryan. We met a week before the dance at a house party. But before we were introduced, I had consumed large amounts of warm white box wine and was more than slightly tipsy. I was trashed. For the first time ever. Thankfully, I am a very sweet drunk - giggly, affectionate and a little bit sleepy.

I do remember a few details from that night...

Ryan was cute. And we sat together on the front stairs of the veranda after we'd been introduced while I told him over and over again that I was "NOT drunk!" The poor boy. Thankfully I think he was a bit past it too. We seemed to get along like a house on fire. He filled my polystyrene cup with more revolting wine and we discussed the details of the impending dance and the differences and similarities between our countries.

I also remember that I had been to the bank earlier to cash some traveller's cheques, but they'd been closed. My purse, traveller's cheques, passport, house keys and various other important things were still in my handbag, which I had brought along and stashed in one of the bedrooms with everyone else's handbags.

Murphy's Law (which still holds in Australia, as I discovered)... mine was one of two handbags to get stolen that night. I was distraught - how would I get home to South Africa? Ryan was supportive. He endeared himself to me as he searched the house from top to bottom for my bag (which never surfaced) and held my hand as I panicked.

A week later, at the dance, he was gorgeous in his tux and complimented me non-stop on my dress, upstyled hair and even my earrings. The corsage he brought me was a pale yellow rose - my favouorite. I felt like I was in a dream.

As we danced, he twirled me around like a pro (have you noticed that I am drawn to men who can dance?). We were directly under the disco ball at the swanky hotel, surrounded by my teachers and school friends, when he leant in and kissed me.

It was completely inappropriate and I'm sure my reputation was instantly wrecked with the teachers (who had previously seen me as small, sweet and reasonably well-mannered), but it was lovely.

I remember my first thought being, "Wow... that's warmer than I expected. But nice. Very nice."

Yet after the dance, at the after-party, he started to get on my nerves. He wouldn't leave me alone for a minute. A Canadian exchange friend and I hid out in the bathrooms for awhile just to get some space from our dates.

Cute had become super-clingy very quickly and Ryan started to irritate me enormously. He was like a puppy dog, following me around everywhere I went. By the end of the after-party, I had decided in my quick-to-judge teenage mind that Ryan was not the boy for me.

Our group of friends spent the remainder of the night sleeping on the floor of a friend's living room. When I awoke, bobby pins and hair spiking up all over the show with mascara smeared down my cheeks, I found Ryan lying there staring at me. That was slightly freaky. I didn't like it at all.

Thankfully, all the exchange students were heading off for a weekend of sightseeing in Sydney that afternoon and I could escape him (although flying with a killer hangover is NOT fun, I must say).

The following week, we were all out at another party and Ryan was behind me every time I turned around. He wouldn't leave me be for a second. I eventually took him outside and had "the chat". You know, the one that goes, "You're a great guy and it's been fun. But I leave in just over a week to go back to my own country and there's no point in getting emotionally involved when we'll probably never see each other again. Ya da ya da ya da..."

Shame, the poor boy was upset. He told me he'd come and visit me in South Africa (way to freak a girl out!) and that I was so special and he didn't want to lose me etc...

It was awful. I've always been one of those girls who watches the guy cry while she delivers a break-up speech. I just separate myself emotionally from the whole situation. Until TSC, that is. I can't stay emotionally uninvolved when we fight. But I hated break-ups. The more emotional a guy got, the more detached I'd become. And the more I'd hate myself for it afterwards.

Ryan called me the night before I flew home and cried some more. It was a long conversation. We swapped contact details and he promised to write regularly. And then, as expected, I never heard from him again. And I'm sure that within a week he was right as rain and madly in love with someone else.

I still have our dance photos in the scrapbook I made of the trip and I look back at them once every few years.

I used to wish that my first kiss had been with someone else - maybe a boyfriend who lasted longer. But actually, I'm glad it was Ryan, a random Australian guy I met on exchange. Because he was sweet and it was special and it will always be one of those memories I can't shake... Kind of a Cinderella thing, I guess. The glitter ball, the middle of the dance floor, two teenagers in their best formal wear in a magical land called Oz...

It makes for a nice memory.

Freelancing... the pros and cons

As most of you know... I work mornings at a small company and then freelance in the afternoons. The goal is to go full-time freelance one day.

Here's some thoughts on that. The good and bad of freelancing...

Pros:

• Working for yourself - no boss, no office hours and no office politics (unless you suffer from multiple personality disorder or are taking vast quantities of hallucinogenic drugs).
• Choosing your own projects. If you don't like it, you don't have to take it on.
• The potential to earn damn good money.
• Working at home. From your bed, if you like. With your cats and cup of Milo. Or a bottle of Jack, if that's your preference.
• No "15 days of leave" nonsense. It's all your time and you can take a holiday whenever you feel like it.
• No team-building sessions!
• Variety - the spice of life.
• All the money the client pays for the job (apart from tax) is yours.

Cons:

• Working for yourself... Nobody but you to take the blame when things go pear-shaped.
• No choice but to take all the work that comes your way - there's no set salary to rely on.
• The potential to earn absolutely nothing if you don't get work in for any given month.
• The potential to turn into an unprofessional slob because you work, eat and sleep in your bed. With your cats and Milo. Or Jack.
• Having to deal with clients outside of office hours and during "holiday" periods.
• No friendly office banter.
• No stability or routine.
• You ARE the boss, accountant, tea lady, receptionist etc.

Remind me why I'm chasing this again ;-)

It is cold

My brain is frozen.

Hence the lack of a decent post.

Off to thaw.

Follow my leader

Question:

How many blog followers do you have (if you have a blog)? And does that figure mean anything to you?


I try really hard not to obsess about how many people are following my blog. I usually fail miserably, even though I tell myself that I would keep on blogging if I had no comments and no followers at all. I do believe this is true. It just wouldn't be quite as much fun ;-)


But then I visit some blogs that I personally think are quite yawn-inducing but seem to have gazillions upon trillions upon zillions of followers. And I have to ask, "What on earth makes people read this blog?"


Now before any of you take undue offence, if I have ever commented on your blog, you are not in the above category. I don't comment on blogs I think are stupid.

And if I have not commented on your blog, it might not be because I think it's dull either. It may be that a) you are a lurker and I don't know you have a blog or that you even exist; b) I have been battling to update my feeds list on my new PC and you are still in my queue of blogs I'm trying to get to; c) your brilliance intimidates me and I lurk on your blog rather than leaving a daft comment that might embarrass me.


With that cleared up... I also ask myself why anyone would bother reading this here blog. I think the answer is the same reason I read blogs... either they're well written or funny or moving or I just like getting a glimpse into someone else's life.


But whatever your reason for reading this is, please hang around - I love having you here ;-)

Photo post

Random snapshots of my life...

A HUGE and slightly rude-looking sweet potato from my veggie garden...

My kitties, snuggling up in the cold winter weather...

The stroppy teenage cheetah we saw when we were last at the Lion and Rhino Park...

A gorgeous tiger at the Lion and Rhino Park. Not sure if he was just yawning, or pulling a tongue at us all...

All over the show

That's how I feel. Let me moan about it and then I'll be cheerful again, I promise (all in one post too!)

I have worked late every night since last Wednesday for a VERY difficult freelance client who hired me to refresh her web copy and now expects me to actually make over her business strategy - not what I quoted her to do! I don't mind working overtime when it's necessary, but not for something I'm not being paid to do!

In between that nonsense I have a magazine feature to finish and only one of my interviewees has responded within the deadline I gave. I had a rush job last week that had to take precedence over everything else and I've been trying to coordinate around 50 people's schedules for our new duty roster at church (we had to recruit new teams for the second evening service we've launched).

My day job is really frustrating right now because of all the politics. At the moment we're at the place where people are being nasty about each other in front of our suppliers, which in my opinion is just plain unprofessional.

I actually haven't had a free night since last Saturday and I'm pretty close to choosing violence as the best way of coping. Or maybe collapsing in a teary, snotty heap - I'm not sure which is the most attractive option right now. All this stress is making me grumpy, unproductive (funny how that works) and forgetful. I feel like I'm constantly dropping the ball.

BUT...

And it's a big 'but' (capital letters, y'know)...

I had moments of great happiness this weekend:

• Seeing the fabulous Angel and awesome Glug for our church quiz night on Friday (which was such fun, even though our team did appallingly)
• Heading to Pretoria to visit two of my closest friends (who were my bridesmaids) for their birthday dinner on Sat (especially since one of them has been out of the country for the past six months)
• Finding out that we are going to Zanzibar next month. This was just plain incredible - we asked my folks to book us in at a fabulous hotel they frequent that was having a winter special. They know the manager, so we figured it would be easier. But when we asked them about ti, they said the hotel was fully booked for that weekend, so they'd decided to send us to Zanzibar! OMW... So excited. Are my parents not the coolest people in the world?! I cannot wait to get away from the city, the difficult clients and the cold!

In conclusion, I'm not loving life right now, but I am hanging on thanks to some awesome moments and friends and the anticipation of a long weekend in Zanzibar from my super-amazing folks. Yay!

The actual hitting of me (teen love story, part two)

In yesterday's post, I started telling you the long and probably boring story of Coach - the first guy I fell head-over-heels for. I'm writing this becuase I've been thinking over my realisation for awhile and I need to have it written down. So, whether you are interested or not, here's the rest of the story:

When I was in grade 11, I remember telling Coach about the guy I was planning to invite to my grade 11 dance (a fellow redhead who didn't last long as a boyfriend because people kept thinking we were brother and sister - eww!).

As a ballroom and Latin champ, Coach got invited to a lot of dances. He was heading off to a Matric dance (the South African version of a prom) at a rival school to mine that week. He said that particular school held the best dances. I asked if he'd ever been to one of the dances at my school and he said no. I told him that OUR dances were INFINITELY better and informed him that he would be coming to my Matric dance the following year. He didn't have a choice.

One year later, I hadn't forgotten about my promise. But... despite my unwavering dedication to Coach, I was getting a bit frustrated with the fact that even though everyone agreed that he had feelings for me too, he hadn't done anything about it (he has always been rubbish with girls). I had started to attend a small group from my church and there was a guy in the group who had piqued my interest. Let's call him Brian (because that was his middle name).

Brian was the polar opposite of Coach... Shy, artistic and in no way a sportsman. We had friends in common and we saw each other regularly. He had a quirky sense of humour and was so gentle with me (unlike Coach, who would just pick me up and throw me over his shoulder if he felt like it). I decided I really, really liked Brian. And when he invited me to his Matric dance, it confirmed that the feeling was mutual. In our oh-so-high-school-way, we tentatively started to date.

But I had already invited Coach to my Matric dance, and I explained this to Brian. He seemed to be ok with it - he was really laid back. I called Coach to remind him of the fact that he was my dance partner and then gushed about Brian for ages. Coach was less chatty than usual. Eventually he managed to gruffly interrupt me and say, "By the way, I hope you know that you're MY Matric dance partner too?"

I hadn't known, actually. He'd never mentioned it before.

As it was, it turned out that his dance was the night after mine. I was thrilled to be invited (because the more dances you went to, the more your pathetic high-school status improved) and set about organising dress number three. Then Tim (his real name), a very odd friend of mine, invited me to his college dance and I was over the moon. Four dances - I was no longer just a teenage dirtbag. Of course, it turned out that Tim's dance was the night after Brian's dance, just to make life that much more complicated.

All the dances were great fun, although I discovered that Brian didn't dance. He also sulked about the fact that I was going to dances with other guys. I had an absolute blast at my dance and Coach's, despite comments from all our teachers about the fact that we'd picked the most unsuitable partner possible in terms of height.

After the spate of dances, Brian and I continued to date and I honestly thought I was over Coach, although we were still great friends. We talked each other through our final exams and then parted ways after high school - me to do a gap year in Pretoria with a church and him to study sports management (what else!).

Brian and I dated long distance for a year before I realised that he wasn't right for me. By that time I'd met TSC and we'd been through the I hate you / you're not so bad / let's be friends cycle and were best buddies. Coach and I had kept in touch but weren't close anymore.

TSC and I eventually started dating (long-distance) when I headed to Cape Town to study. Coach and I were at a stage where we only talked once every few months. Then TSC moved down to Cape Town and things got serious between us.

I had always stuck to my routine of going on camp for the holidays, although by this stage was a leader. Coach hadn't come on camp for awhile, but we'd always said we'd do one last one together.

And we did. And I discovered that even though I was madly in love with TSC, I still found my heart speeding up when Coach was near. I still got that tingly feeling when he touched my arm or spoke my name (he had nickname for me that only he could get away with). Our friendship returned to the way it had always been. He was actually dating his first girlfriend by this time, but we spent more time together that camp than they did, laughing and arguing for hours again.

I saw him a few times after that and decided that I would need to accept that I would never really be able to totally get over him.

The last time I spoke to him, it was to invite him to my wedding. He didn't come. I was a bit hurt, but secretly quite relieved.

TSC and I were incredibly happy together (still are). Coach called me to say he was off to spend a year overseas. I wished him well. I had no way of contacting him (I'm not on FaceBook) and I wasn't that interested, to be honest.

After about a year, I remembering wondering if he was back yet. And then forgetting about it.

Until he called me last week. And then it hit me like a car door in the soft part of a shin...
There were no butterflies...
There was no giddy headrush...
There was no tingly feeling at the sound of his voice...

Just happiness to talk to an old friend.

We chatted for over an hour, catching up on what he was up to and how our lives had changed. I jabbered about TSC and our cats and our house, and he chattered away about his overseas trip and his new job. We shared a few laughs and memories and it was great. And then we hung up.

And this overwhelming peace settled over me that I married the best person I possibly could whom I love with every cell in my body (go ahead and gag - it's true) and that Coach and I were never meant for each other.

We've both grown up. We've both changed. And while I look forward to enjoying my great friendship with him, I know that we'll never be as close as we were and that there is no romantic "what if" floating between us.

Things are as they were meant to be. For each of us. And it's awesome to know that.

And then it hit me...

...Like a car door in the soft part of a shin...

What am I on about? Let me back track slightly.

Just over a week ago I got a surprise phone call from an old friend. Let's call him Coach (he's been obsessed with basketball for as long as I've known him and has played and coached with numerous teams).

Coach was the first guy I ever really, REALLY fell for. I met him on a camp I went on at the beginning of grade 10, so I was 15. When we met, we couldn't stand each other (the same thing with TSC... see a pattern here?) and spent the week trying to avoid each other.

A few months later we bumped into each other again (literally - I was walking down a flight of stairs and he was running up them). We chatted for maybe five minutes and I thought to myself, "He's not SO bad."

It turned out that we had a mutual friend in common and we saw each other a few more times. By the time we went on our second camp, we were friends. By the end of that camp, we were inseparable.

Now if you've met me, you'll know that I am really small. I think I just, just make the 5 foot mark. Coach, on the other hand, is a typical basketball player - 6.4 foot tall. So we made an odd pair. Especially seeing I was going through a phase of collecting odd hats. At any given time, you might find the two of us strolling around the camp, me craning my head to talk to him and him bending over to hear me, both of us wearing some bizarre head piece (his favourite that he liked to steal from me was a luminous pink, fuzzy beanie that made his head look like a tea cosy. My favourite was a rainbow cap with a propellar on top of it).

It was definitely a sight that would make you giggle. Or maybe call the shrinks in!

We had a great friendship going and would argue for hours at a time about inane things like whose brother was most annoying and what breed of dog made for the best pet. But I never felt anything romantically for him. Until...

My school was invited to a huge social dance event at another school and so was his. It was an attempt by the teachers to keep us out of the clubs while we were underage and was supposed to be a club atmosphere without the booze and drugs. I figured it might be lame, but seeing he would be there, I promised I'd go.

It was actually pretty cool - there were people from about eight different schools there and there was a great vibe. Coach is a champion ballroom and Latin dancer (you can actually tell if you watch him play basketball - he's surprisingly graceful for someone so gangly) and makes anyone look brilliant on the dance floor, even someone half his height!

We were all dancing in a group when Coach came and just picked me up and plonked me on one of the sort of dance box / mini stage thingeys scattered around the huge marquee. I think he did it so that I'd be his height and he could talk to me, but the music was so loud that he had to come in really close. His adolescent cheek touched my adolescent cheek and I got a whiff of his adolescent aftershave. And that was it - I was smitten.

This took me completely by surprise. So much so that I jumped off the mini stage thingey and hid out in the bathroom stall for half an hour to try and wrap my head around it. A friend came in and called out, "T... you ok?"

"No. I think I like Coach."

"Well duh...."

Yes, this is also the dominant pattern in my life - everyone has always known about any crush I've had before I have even an inkling of what's going on. Not very self-aware, I'm afraid.

After my little discovery, I did what any teenage girl would do - agonised for months about whether he had any feeling for me.

Unlike most of my teenage infatuations, this one didn't pass within a few weeks. In fact, it went on for years. Boyfriends came and went, but Coach remained. As a friend and as some vague unattainable yet incredibly attractive idea of what I wanted in a guy. It was him I would phone the night before a science test to procrastinate and him I'd call in tears to talk me through my break-up speech that I needed to deliver to some poor sod. In fact, it was him I'd compare all the other poor sods to and find them wanting.

There was only one break in this cycle of puppy love. But you'll have to wait till tomorrow if you're interested in reading about that.

And about what hit me like a car door in the shin. Seeing that, after all, was supposedly the point of this rambling post.

Return of the sci-fi epic

So, having seen Wolverine and having hated it, I was a little apprehensive about heading to see the also-very-hyped Star Trek. But we went anyway.

And it was awesome!

I was crying by about three minutes into the movie, laughing at five, confused by six... It was a glorious rollercoaster of emotions, explosions, paradoxes, people, Vulcans and visions... Just my kind of movie.

See it!

I raved about it to Icing. She laughed at me and said she'd never have pinned me as a Trekkie. I never was. But I may consider it now. So long as I can get me one of those phaser thingeys.

Let's hope the sequels don't ruin everything Pirates-of-the-Caribbean-style.

When you know it's going to be a rough day

I overslept this morning. So I missed my morning exercise. Which means I missed my morning endorphine rush. Which means I was cranky to start with.

As I got in my car I discovered I had a flat tyre. Thankfully, Tuesday is the day that our gardener is here, so he helped me put the spare on.

I was late for work. I quickly printed my status report for our weekly status meeting. JK was off today for study leave so there were only five of us. We went through our status and when we got to Icing, my current best office friend who recently resigned, Boss asked about how our new business cards are coming along. Icing said she needed to know what job titles Boss wanted the new recruits to have on theirs and Boss told her. Then she said, "Oh, and remember to make your title senior account exec."

We all looked at each other. Ummm... She's resigned. Business cards will no longer be necessary.

Denial much?

Chips left the office at noon for her 3D pregancy scan, leaving me, Boss, Icing and Roo. Icing decided to confront Boss about her resignation. Boss left the office.

I finished typing the nth email begging my client to send me the information I need to get her company a big, impressive placement and went to the nearest wheel and tyre place to have my mammoth puncture repaired (there was a friggin roof nail embedded in my tyre. Dunno where that came from).

An hour and a half later I got home to write this post. Now it's off to make supper, squeeze in some freelance work, phone a difficult client and head off to a church meeting (one of three this week).

Yet another "challenging" Tuesday (to put it politely).

How's yours been?

Tribute to mom

In honour of Mothers Day yesterday, here are a dozen random things I love about my mom:

• She is the most generous person I know. Seriously. The other weekend we went to pick up something in town and there was a thin, hungry-looking stray dog wandering around. She drove to the nearest shop to buy it food and made sure it had enough to eat before she carried on with her errands. This is nothing unusual - I could tell so many stories similar to this one, whether they involve homeless people, animals in need, kids or anyone with a problem.
• She plays the drums. How cool is that?
• She hands her clothes down to me (she has good taste and a great style, so I love that).
• She has a deep faith and is always trying to find out more about God and what He's like - she doesn't just settle for what a priest / church person tells her.
• She is loyal like no one else I know. If it were me, I would've told a few people in her life where to get off, but she loves them despite their issues and behaviour and their lives are better for it (that includes me).
• She listens to me, even when I whine.
• She has accepted TSC 100% as part of the family and treats him like her son (that means he gets teased like everyone else too).
• I adore her quirky sense of humour. It so runs in the family.
• She's quick to share her knowledge if it will benefit others (whether it's helping me with my gardening issues or re-visiting her maths to assist my brother with his).
• She mixes words up and calls anything and anyone thing-a-me, thingey-majig, whats-it-called, thingey-mabob, whats-his-face or some other variant. It's cute. She and my gran can have entire conversations made up of these words and still understand each other.
• She has learnt to hug me. She's never been the touchy-feeley type of mom, but she's learnt to physically demonstrate love to her two touchy-feeley kids. I appreciate that.

What random things do you love about your mom?

Lessons learned this week

I have learned two very important things this week.

Like yesterday, I decided to go for a brisk 30 minute morning walk before work. This is nothing unusual. But it was cold. Very cold. And wet. So I missioned along for a while and then decided to warm up by breaking into a jog. This is unusual - I am NOT a runner.

After just more than five minutes of steady jogging, I got a mammoth stitch that felt like someone had punctured my right lung. It was horrible. Sheer agony, I tell you.

I moaned like a wounded beast and two spandex-clad old ladies out for their own exercise moved hastily to the opposite side of the road.

I slowed back to a walk. My one ear started to hurt from the cold (I have rubbish ears. Had grommets three times as a kid). This turned into a dull headache on the right side of my head. I completed my walk in misery and thankfulyl jumped into the shower as soon as I arrived home.

Lesson: I dislike running.

This is not news to me. If you've known me long enough you'll have heard me say the following at least a million times:

"Show me two people in a row who are out jogging and look like they're actually enjoying it and I'll take it up. Until then, no thanks."

Really... Give me a gym full of other sweaty people who look as ridiculous as I do going nowhere on the stairmaster.

Give me group classes where the butch instructor at the front tells me exactly what to do and when.

Give me my lounge and Billy Blanks shouting daft encouragements from my TV screen in his Taebo workout (good grief, that man is ANNOYING).

But don't give me a slippery, cold open road with lines of bored morning motorists staring at me while I try to jog and at the same time avoid the scores of domestic workers on their way to work who snigger at this mad masochistic woman breathing like a cow in labour as she attempts to do something she's clearly not cut out for.

Another lesson I learned is that I still take water for granted. When I lived in Broadacres, our water would get turned off without warning on an almost weekly basis. We once went without it for four days and were flushing our toilet with mineral water.

Since we've been in the new house, we haven't had this problem at all. Until last night.

When I arrived home at 18h00, the water was off and my mad Italian neighbour was awaiting me to point this fact out a million times over accompanied by grand hand gestures and lots of tutting.

Thankfully, since our experiences in Broadacres, we've been prepared and always have two 5-litre bottles of water on standby. With the water in our kettle and the 2-litre bottle we fill up regularly in our fridge, we were able to manage just fine.

But my sponge bath could in no way match up to the long bubblebath with TSC that I had planned. And brushing your teeth with ice-cold water from the fridge is not fun.

Lesson: I realised again how precious water is.

TSC always says that you can tell a man's wealth by how freely he uses water. The low-earning labourers on local buidling sites can wash up with the water they fill their hard hats with. Those of us spoilt suburb-dwellers used to having water on tap are outraged when we have no water for just one evening.

It makes one think.

What about YOU, dear reader? Learned anything interesting this week?

Have a great weekend, btw.

In case this doesn't land in your inbox

"Really does make one wonder whether this is how Swine Flu is actually spreading….
Spotted in Cape Town, seemingly with reference to the global SWINE FLU outbreak and its possible spread in and around the Cape Flats."

One thing that I didn't think about...

...Is that when I'm sitting in bed, typing away, my cats have easy access to my lap - they simply climb on top of my laptop ;-)

I love my cats. If it were up to me they'd star in the LOLcats newsletter from ICHC every day.

Here are my darlings...

In pleasant news, while the office politics continue, I have my third feature article from the nice magazine I've been writing for. Happiness! The deadline is super tight, but the topic is great.

And, TSC and I are planning a long weekend away near the end of next month, so I'm happily trawling the internet for nice, reasonably-priced places to stay. If anyone has suggestions (must be somewhere warm. Maybe Limpopo or North West?), please drop me a comment and let me know. And before you international smart asses start, I mean somewhere within a few hours drive, still in the country, k?

We're more than halfway through our first full working week in ages and I actually feel just fine. I'm going to enjoy the sense of calm that seems to have randomly fallen on top of me while it lasts.

Have a good evening, folks.

Chew-on-this Tuesday

Today was drama at the office again. First Boss announced she is suing the last employee who left.

Then the latest addition to our motley crew, let's call her JK (who is a lovely girl, btw, just inexperienced), sent out an email to her contacts with her CV, saying this job doesn't pay enough. She accidentally CC-ed Boss into her email. Boss was understandably not too pleased.

She and JK butted heads. JK broke down in tears. Apologies were made, advice was dished out and things seemed settled.

Roo, one of our other employees, escaped the madness by leaving for her varsity lectures. Chips, our first-ever pregnant employee, kept quiet and maintained a low profile.

I busied myself with getting work done, seeing my computer has been on its best behaviour since Boss's return from holiday on Monday (how typical of this machine). I waited for the next piece of paw-paw (not Jackson's dog) to hit the fan, which I knew would be...

The person who has been around second longest (after me, leading with 10 months) informing Boss that she'd been made a job offer that pays a basic salary of double her current basic, plus commission and perks.

Boss remained remarkably calm throughout these events.

I left the office to come home and blog about it...

For the first time ever...

...I am blogging from home, sitting on my bed with my laptop. This, people, is a milestone in my life ;-)