People don't understand my OTHER job either!

Ages ago I wrote a post about how people don't understand my morning PR job. I mentioned that there's nothing complicated about journalism, which I see as my real job (see that's what I do in the afternoons, evenings, weekends and all other possible working hours. Sometimes). I figure people should understand that "journalism" bit, even if they don't get public relations at all.

Huh!

You have no idea how many times I get asked what I do (that is the Joburg conversation starter) and reply with my well-rehearsed line, *smile nicely* "I work mornings at a PR company as a writer and then I'm a freelance journalist in the afternoons," only to be met with a blank stare and a line of drool rolling slowly down a cheek. On other occasions, I get The Gush, which goes something like, "Oh WOW! That must be like SUPER exciting!!! How awesome!!!"

Yes, dear friends - I can even hear the additional exclamation marks tagged on the end of that sentence, which is usually quickly followed with one of these remarks:

• So have you met anyone famous?
• Did you get to cover the Brangelina / Michael Jackson / Caster Semenya / *insert other popular celeb or news topic here* story?
• What newspaper do you write for?

Firstly, as far as I am concerned, celeb stalking is not news. I really don't think that endless stories on which celebrity is trying to adopt a third world orphan next should be front page headlines. And I am totally clueless when it comes to the rich and famous. I didn't know who David Guetta was until yesterday, for Pete's sake. So no, I didn't cover whatever Brangelina story it is you're talking about. And no, sorry for you - I don't have the inside scoop from Heat or People magazines. What are those, by the way?

Now I have the utmost respect for news journalists, but I am not one. And will probably never be one. News journos get sent where the danger is, where buildings are blowing up or governments are being overthrown. They inform the public, mobilise change and occasionally save the world. They also, however, get sent by miserable editors to sit in month-long court cases and have to interview outraged citizens and slimy politicians. None of those things appeal to me, I must admit.

But it's not even the subject matter that put me off pursuing news journalism... it's the way you have to write. As you know, I can go on and on and on and on. And there's no room for that in news. Or for interesting descriptions and poetic language, of which, believe it or not, I am actually a big fan.

I hate disappointing people by not being a news journo. I always feel like when I try to explain that I prefer feature writing, I'm sort of telling them that there's no Easter Bunny (What? Really? Who was that giant rabbit in my yard then?) and that I must hang my head in shame.

But it's the truth. I enjoy magazine feature writing. And I'm proud of it. Not really. But yes, I love getting to explore a topic and learn about something I may never have thought of before. I love asking people for their professional opinions, not just the facts. I love that occasionally I can include my own thoughts and not just the "objective" truth.

I enjoy that I have a double-page spread or more to fill, not just a tiny box on a broadsheet filled with other boxes. I love seeing my name printed on glossy pages in full colour. It's very satisfying to see women flipping through a magazine I have contibuted towards in a supermarket, even if they don't buy it.

That said, I wish I did more of this kind of work. Maybe that's why "The Gush" gets to me. Because I know that most of the stuff I do is definitely not "SUPER exciting" or even semi-exciting. In fact, a lot of it is about as dull as can be.

I write corporate crap for companies who spout business cliches at impressive speed, like "our employees are really our greatest assets", "At White Male Execs 'R Us, BEE is not just a numbers game - it's the right thing to do" and, my personal favourite from the many dreary employees I interview, "I love my job - it doesn't feel like work to me" delivered in a zombie monotone (hint: I'm not going to tell your boss you said that, so sorreee for you - no extra brownie points today).

I write website copy for people who think that html links are the devil. I even do some basic advertising copy when it comes my way to pay the bills and build up cash for when I can eventually do this stuff fulltime. That's my funniest story, actually. I called someone on behalf of the ad agency I was writing for to get some product info and said to the receptionist, "I'm the copy writer." She replied, "Cool. So what do you copyright? Like new inventions and stuff?"

For real, y'all.

Anyway, I'm off to do some PR, write some fascinating case studies on variable speed drives (whatever those are) and not cover the Patrick Swayze story now. Have a good one.

Flowers to lift the spirits

Inspired by Jeanette's recent post, here are some of my pics (not nearly as impressive, I'm afraid) of the flowers that soothe my soul when I get home to my garden...

Felicia

Violas

Clivias

Gazanias

And finally, my new loot from the Lifestyle Garden Centre on Sunday...

Yay for green things to keep me (semi) sane!

Good times

I can't believe it's Monday again. It's a horrible way to spend a seventh of one's life ;-)

I'm actually in a fairly good mood today, despite it being Monday, probably because I feel like I eeked out every bit of weekend goodness.

Friday afternoon, I got home from work and picked the peas that were weighing down the plants in the veggie patch. I had enough to give five bags away. Pretty impressive. I also picked some spinach, cherry tomatoes and cabbage for my folks. I can't send them on holiday to Zanzibar like they did for us, but I can keep their fridge well stocked with green things!

TSC arrived home shortly afterwards and we got ready for supper at Die Boomhuisie (translated as the little treehouse) in Krugersdorp with Phillygirl, Varen, Louisa, Yvette and her hubby and little baby Sienna. I wish their website was working so I could show you some pics and the menu!

We had such a good time. What a hilarious, lovely bunch of people and what an awesome place - the decor, food and service were all great. I highly recommend the lemon condensed milk cake. Mmmm...

On Saturday we were up early to get through to Pretoria. I dropped TSC off at my folks place, dropped our year-end financial documents at our accountant and then met one of my best friends, Toni, at the Irene Village Market.

When we got home, I got busy in the garden while TSC worked on varsity stuff, planting some wild irises I got from my mom and digging some straw, compost and bone meal into the one patch where the soil is like clay. Good workout, I must say.

We headed to our great friends Brett and Kim for Brett's birthday braai. Such legends. We couldn't stay long because TSC had so much work, but it was good to catch up a bit and meet some new people.

On Sun, TSC was up early again and on the PC. I slept in for a bit and then we went to Lifestyle Garden Centre for the first time and had brunch at Primi Life. What a different experience to the pathetic service at Primi Extreme! The coffee was brilliant, the service and food were really good and we enjoyed sitting in a patch of sunlight enjoying the Sunday spring weather.

We then headed to the nursery where I stocked up on some new plants - vygies, gazanias, osteospurmums, purple alyssum and some more pansies. Big thanks to Phillygirl for my birthday voucher for Lifestyle Garden Centre, which introduced me to one of my new favourite places in Joburg!

We got home just in time for the F1 race at Monza, which was interesting from start to finish, despite the fact that my team (McLaren) didn't do very well. Kovalainen disappointed once again, finishing sixth. He just doesn't have the winning spirit. And Hamilton may have too much of it - he pushed so hard that he dropped it on the last lap and crashed out of the race, losing the six points he would have won from third place.

Sutil of the Force India team moved up into fourth place. I was chuffed for him. For those of you (most of you) who don't watch, Force India has always been one of the least likely teams to be anywhere near the front, so the fact that they had a driver on the podium in the last race (who is now driving for Ferrari) and in the top half of the points-paying positions this week (drivers up to eighth place scores points) is like... The Pumas beating the Blue Bulls, Sharks and Lions (in other words, a Disney-movie type of "underdog wins against all odds" situation).

After the Grand Prix, I planted all my new flowers, trimmed, dug and generally tidied up the garden (which took a couple of hours and gave me blisters on my hands to match those on my feet). Tired but happy, I cleaned up and TSC and I headed off to church to end the weekend.

How was your weekend?

I want to SCREAM!

I have just had THE most frustrating client meeting of my life. It's a wonder everyone who was present is still alive and in one piece.

Do you know that feeling where you're so angry you start shaking? I had to grip my pen and pad really tightly to a) stop the client from noticing that explosion was imminent and b) stop my hands from grabbing him around his neck and shaking him until he turned blue.

I have met with the lady before (lovely dear that she is), let's call her Em. She set up this meeting to discuss the plans with her fellow head honcho and me today.

Em briefed me to rewrite the organisation's website copy and make recommendations as to how they could improve their "completely outdated and hideous" website (for example, stop using an off-red colour for all the text). She said the organisation has a web developer that can implement the changes and that she hates the site and wants to start by removing the sponsors names (they feature prominently on every page of the site and detract from the actual copy). I agree with her recommendation and add it to my list.

In preparation for today, I came up with homepage copy and some recommendations, which were to keep the site template pretty much the same but move certain elements (from the random right-hand navigation bar to the left one and get rid of the right-side nav bar to allow for more white space and less clutter (they currently have four navigation bars. Super confusing!).

I present this to her and Mr I-think-I'm-God at today's meeting. I can tell he's going to be difficult from the minute he walks in and starts crapping on me because the map to my offices (that everyone else has used without issue) is not to his liking.

He stops me about one-second into the conversation to tell me that I was contracted to write copy, not redesign their entire website. I calmly explain that I understand this and that I have not redesigned the site, but just made the recommendation of moving some elements to another place in the template. I have not suggested we delete pages, create new ones or scrap the whole site and start again. I also explain that part of my brief was to recommend how to improve the site's flow.

I try to continue.

He interrupts again, telling me I have "not fulfilled my mandate" and that I basically don't know what I'm doing... That my recommendations will mean they have to change their website. "Yes," I say. "I was told that you have someone who can do that who works for you." He tells me that they don't plan to demolish their site and start again. I once again explain that this will not be necessary - the site design will remain almost the same, with a few elements shifting from one side of the page to the other.

This conversation happens a total of seven times during the hour.

Em, who is also taking a bashing from Chief Moron, is trying to hold back tears. She keeps saying she's sorry she ever got involved with this project, that she washes her hands of it, that I must bill her for my time and that she's sorry to have wasted my time.

Poor dear.

He keeps telling her that he's not saying they shouldn't do this project, but that there are ways of doing it and that this is not the right one.

I think I came closest to losing it with him and smacking him on his bald, stupid head with his own teacup (especially seeing having requested tea, he ignored it and didn't touch it once) when he started telling me that he is in the business of web development and everyone knows that it's best to have all your company's information on the home page becuase people don't click on links on websites.

According to Dipstick, having a looooong homepage where people have to scroll for ages is far superior to having a short, uncluttered homepage with clear navigation options that will take people to the specific info they want without them having to spend years searching for it.

He also doesn't believe in having lots of webpages. When I said that the more pages you have, with quality content on them, the higher trawlers will rank you, he told me (patronisingly) that my point might be true, but only if you're interested in attracting people to your site who haven't been there before.

Uhhh... and you're not interested in that, Bright Spark?! That explains a lot.

Every time I tried to make a point or bring him back to letting me explain the copy I'd written, he told me "There's no need to get defensive about it, Tamara."

In the end, Poor Em apologised for the millionth time and closed the meeting by simply standing up to leave. I stood up too and Ego Maniac grudglingly halted his lecturing and finger-wagging(easiest way to piss me off) and left without even greeting me.

I would so like to hit something (well, a particular someone) right now. Thank goodness for blogging, hey?

And for Fridays.

Woosaaaa, Tamara. Wooosaaaaa...

Me on movies

Just realised my driver's licence expires in a few weeks time. Bah! Anyone know an easy way to get it renewed that doesn't involve paying bribes or standing in queues for six years?

I feel like watching movies today. Seeing I have to be at the office instead, I'll just blog about them...



Saw District 9 last night. I must disagree with Ches, who hated the movie (although he does make some valid points). Maybe it was because I wasn't expecting much, but I thought it was pretty damn good. Generally, when people rave about a movie I end up hating it and there was quite a bit of hype around this flick so I figured it would disappoint. But it didn't.


I think it's a great movie. But that doesn't mean I enjoyed it. Let me clarify... there are movies that you can admit are totally brilliant without finding great pleasure in watching them. The same goes for books. Like JM Coetzee's Disgrace. I don't deny it was clever, well-written and worth studying for high school English. Doesn't mean I liked it though.


District 9 was, IMHO, well filmed with good actors, nice fast-moving action scenes and effective special effects. Yes, there were a few cliches and some bits that could easily have been left out (the last sequence seemed a bit protracted to me), but overall, it was well directed and edited. What surprised me though, was how much I was moved by the film.


I left the Il Grande cinema in a sober, pensive mood. I knew District 9 would touch on issues of xenophobia, but it really, really got to me. It was so gritty and dirty and South African and... real. It wasn't an idyllic, romanticised, pretty picture. I liked that about it.


The only thing I truly didn't like (aside from the fact that the main character only seems to know one expletive, which he uses about six times in every sentence) is the portrayal of Nigerians in the movie - they are shown as being completely devoid of human empathy and moral standards. They have no redeeming qualities whatsoever.


If I were Nigerian, that would piss me off no end.


But all in all, a good film in my opinion. What are your thoughts?





TSC and I also watched Coraline on DVD the other day. Let me start by saying that I am absolutely fascinated by stop-motion animation. I think my dream job would be to build sets and props for a film like this. The puppets, sets and art direction are amazing!


Ok, maybe the storyline was a little... odd, but even if I didn't find the plot particularly gripping, I was impressed by the colours, characters and even texture of the film (does that make sense?).

I know this movie was released in 3D, but I'm glad we saw it on DVD so we had access to the special features showing the making of the film. Like Transformers or Nightmare Before Christmas, this is a movie I believe you can appreciate more once you know what the production entails.


Basically, there are 24 frames per second of film. In stop-motion, you have to film each frame one at a time, readjusting the puppet and set so that when you string all the frames together and speed them up, it flows like a normal movie. It can take an animator days or even weeks to film a few seconds.


It is enormously labour-intensive to shoot stop-motion and Coraline was no exception, with around 450 people working on almost 150 sets with characters no taller than a nice new pencil. The clothes are hand-stitched, the fires are hand-drawn into scenes after filming and the puppets have over 200 000 facial expressions that need to be hand-created by the animators and designers. The work is phenomenal!


If you want a feel-good, easy-to-watch animated story with a nice storyline, rent out Finding Nemo. If you want to watch a beautifully-designed stop-motion work of art, plus all the in-depth features, Coraline is worth a look. and if you do watch it / have seen it, please let me know what you thought.

The REAL signs that spring has sprung

The reasons I know that spring is here have nothing to do with the fragrant jasmine in bloom, the sun staying out a bit longer in the evenings, the fact that I have a sudden craving for crunchy salads or the realisation that I no longer need a hot water bottle to survive in my office. These are the REAL reasons I know spring has arrived:

• TSC killed the first mosquito last night. The war has resumed.



• My cats are shedding more prolifically than usual. Everything black in our house is covered in white cat hair and everything white is covered in black cat hair. Sneaky buggers.



• Magazines are all running their annual "get bikini-ready in 5 easy steps" type of nonsense articles.



• You can smell meat on the braai (BBQ) on weekends again.



• My Northern Hemisphere blog friends are moaning about the onset of winter.



• People are showing their Lily-white legs (mine are unfortunately always that pale, even in mid-summer).



• People are phoning me earlier in the morning.



• My colleagues are wearing brighter colours.



• My heart is pining for Cape Town more than usual.



• The cats have stopped sleeping on the bed with us.

The shedding culprits, in all their cuteness...

Random bits again

I have no logical stream of thought today (do I ever?), so here's bits of what's going on...

We finished off TSC's birthday with supper at Coco Bongo at Monte Casino. Having browsed around on all of Phillygirl's restaurant posts, I was planning on taking him to Soulsa or The Attic, but both are closed on Mondays.

I'm glad we ended up at Coco Bongo though. It was the best choice for my meat-loving man. He's long been raving about the "perfect steak" that he had nearly three years ago on our honeymoon and how no steak has ever matched up to it. Until now.

I had a bite, and I must admit (despite the fact that I don't ever order steak out - too many other more interesting things on the menu)... It was really good. So were my prawns (the Monday and Tuesday night 1kg of prawns for R100 special). The service was also really good, so despite the fact that it's inside Monte Casino (not my favourite place with its OTT Tuscan theme and permanent twilight), we will definitely go back for a second visit.

In other catch-up news, the weekend was full of highs and lows. Lows first...

• Had to trek through to Pretoria on Friday in horrible traffic to sign-off our company's year-end financials. When TSC and I arrived at the office, it was deserted. They forgot to tell us they'd moved, so we had to get back in the car, head back into traffic and trek through to the other side of town. Grrr!
• Fell down a full flight of stairs at Menlyn shopping centre on Saturday. My useless shoes that have no grip let me down. The whole right side of my body is a mess. I pulled a muscle in my back, hurt my elbow pretty badly (still sore even to the lightest touch), skinned my ankle and knee and ensured that my whole hip area is now a painful and violent dark blue in colour. The worst bit? I sleep on my right side, so I haven't had a decent night's sleep since Sat.

The good bits win through though:

• Friday night we had a birthday supper for TSC with my family at a new restuarant in Brooklyn, Pretoria. Kream is very swish... It has gorgeous decor and an interesting menu featuring things like Avocado Crayfish or Bone Marrow as starters and Duck Confit or Sirloin Aubergine as mains. I must say that my duck was way too salty, but everyone else's food seemed good and the service was superb. The best things, however, are the desserts. The (dark) chocolate mousse is a treat and the Blondies & Brownies are absolutely excellent. I had worried that the place would be a bit pretentious, but we had a great time. Thumbs up for Kream.
• Getting seriously stuck into our home office. I bought us a beautiful secondhand corner desk that we can both work at together (so we don't have to fight for legroom anymore). On Saturday we moved it in and sorted through the various craft, work, varsity, admin and other crap that had made the place almost impossible to get into. It looks like a new room! Now if I can just get TSC to pack away his neatly sorted piles of paper into some sort of filing system, I can take photos to show you.

Must go follow up on useless clients now. Have a great afternoon, all.

Happy bday to my hubby

TSC turns 25 today, and even though he never reads this blog, I am going to use the chance to gush about him while I have a good reason to be soppy.

Feel free to gag.

TSC and I met six years ago and couldn't stand the sight of each other. Since then, we have both changed a lot and I have come to appreciate the good bits about him. And there are a lot. Here are 25 of my favourite things about my husband on his 25th birthday:

1. He stuck with me through some of the darkest times in my life, even when I was horrible to be with and totally ungrateful for his support.
2. When he holds me, I feel totally safe and at peace.
3. Because I am a social being, he has learnt to be one too. Despite not being big on groups, he has moved from sitting in the corner sulking (he did this at the first bday party of mine he attended) to being a fantastic host and someone who's easy to chat to.
4. He has the sexiest backside in the world, IMO.
5. He gets on with my parents and tolerates my brother.
6. He takes care of me when I'm sick / stressed / upset. If he knows I'm unhappy for any reason, he'll run me a hot bubblebath and pour me a glass of wine. Who wouldn't love someone like that?
7. Although his family has never been big on birthdays / Christmas / present-giving in general, he knows that mine has and makes a concerted effort to be good at a) giving me bday presents I will treasure, b) getting excited about presents I give him.
8. Over the years, he has learnt to say 'sorry' after a fight, sometimes even if it wasn't his fault.
9. He's ready to fight for me if necessary.
10. After a long day of dealing with difficult clients, I need to vent and he lets me. He even tries (although not very successfully, I have to admit) to remember which client is which and get upset about repeat offences with me.
11. He thinks I'm gorgeous. And even when I feel hideous, he tells me that.
12. He smells good, even when he's not wearing his aftershave.
13. He makes me laugh.
14. We can have fun doing anything together, from painting the spare bedroom to reading the paper on our veranda like old folks, chatting as we drive, watching DVDs on our couch, grocery shopping or even working out a budget on the back of a serviette.
15. He has learnt to have an argument with me, rather than bottling things up and never sorting them out.
16. I think his family still blames me for the fact that he lives far away (even though as far as I'm concerned, that was his own choice in the beginning). While in the past he has not stood up to them for me, he has now made it clear that although he will always be their child, he has a family of his own now.
17. He feels the same way I do about having kids - not ready to think about it yet.
18. He hates gardening, but because he knows I love my garden, he diligently mows and waters the lawn for me.
19. He can cook. And when I can't make supper (like last week, when I was working on that insane deadline), he steps in and cooks for us.
20. He has the cutest laugh.
21. He's ticklish, which (seeing he's double my size) gives me an effective weapon against him when he picks me up and slings me over his shoulder ;-)
22. He never knows the lyrics to songs, so he makes up his own.
23. We generally agree on movies - what's good and what's not - with a few exceptions. On the other hand, we DO NOT have the same taste in music. At all. But he'll usually agree not to play music that he knows I hate if I'm in the car with him.
24. He does a lot of the icky chores in the house - taking out the dustbin and sorting out the catbox, for instance.
25. He's so different to me. We complement each other and balance each other out.

OK, gagfest done.

10 random thoughts on a Friday

1. While fruit salad may be the healthiest breakfast option, my body is wired for wanting carbohydrates first thing in the morning. Can't seem to convince it otherwise.
2. Having volunteered to write the newsletter for the complex where I live, I have met with the trustees to discuss and now have a sinking feeling that my visions of designer formatting and entertaining snippets will be overruled by the trustee's wish for "pick up your dogs' poop" instructions. *sigh*
3. Law of client probability: the likelihood of all the bits of a project NOT being signed off before deadline is directly proportional to how much crap I will get into if the deadline is missed.
4. Saying "no" to potential freelance work, even if it means saving myself hours of sweat, blood, tears and possible suicide attempts is really difficult. Especially when the pay would have been good.
5. Walking through our neighbourhood with TSC, ice-lolly in hand, on a spring evening in the sunshine, marvelling at the gorgeous blossoms on the trees, satisfies my soul at its deepest level.
6. There are many clients that make me why I picked my line of work, and one or two who make it all worth it.
7. There are some people who deserve a degree in talking crap they are just so good at it.
8. I am always slightly terrified at pressing the "delete all" button on my digital camera, even if I know that I've saved my photos to three different locations.
9. I secretly fear that I will never want to have children. And that it makes me a bad woman. Also, if I were to be unable to have kids for any reason, I think my mother-in-law would see it as the biggest possible failure.
10. Sneezing annoys me. I wish it didn't. I know people can't help sneezing. But I HATE it. The worst is when I have to sneeze. It puts me in a bad mood. Thank goodness I don't suffer from hayfever.

That's what's going around my head this morning. What are your random thoughts?

Have a fabulous Friday and an awesome weekend!

I feel like a new person

My big freelance project is almost over. I have done my bit and the work is now with the 20-odd people I had to interview. While making corrections from all these people and following up so that I can get final copy to send to the magazine will be a royal pain, at least I know the writing is done and the ball is now no longer in my court.

*huge sigh of relief*

Also, things appear to be more stable at the morning job, which is good, seeing I haven't known if the company would survive beyond this month until now.

All in all, I am feeling infinitely better. TSC and I had a relaxed braai at home last night with a bottle of good red wine, my fabulous strawberry and avo salad and some chilled music. It did me the world of good to not work until late in the night and actually unwind a bit.

Now I can concentrate my efforts on preparing TSC's birthday present for Monday. I LOVE organising presents and spoiling people I care about. Oh, and I can also give some attention to my other clients, who have had to take backseat for the past three weeks.

Rocking our leggings and side ponytails

What a weekend! Friday and Saturday flew by preparing for our 80s event on Saturday evening, which was a total blast! Aside from a few no-shows and last minute cancellations (grrrr), it was fabtastic.

My Rubik's cube cake turned out quite nicely, along with the neon decor. See below. The punch was also a hit.

I painted big stars on a piece of polystyrene with neon fabric paint and spattered some on a black plastic tablecloth. We borrowed a UV light, stuck some glow in the dark bits on the windows and this was the oh-so-80s result...

Here's me in my 80s kit (pity you can't see my leggings, rah-rah skirt, luminous pink legwarmers and uber-long glitter false eyelashes in this pic)... I borrowed the glasses from some-one else for the photo. I reckon I should've kept them - they're so cute and sparkly ;-) Those long-dangly earrings were also glow sticks.

Sunday was spent tidying up. It's weird how people always find really odd places to stash their empty beer cans. We found wine bottles in the garden, paper plates in our kitchen sink, bottletops in the guest loo and general mess all over the show. But the cleaning went more quickly than expected, so we were ready to work our double shift at church on Sunday evening. My poor feet are aching after all that rushing around the whole weekend long.

One of my darling best friends spent the night on Sunday so she could help man the phones in the office on Monday while everyone else was out at a tradeshow. It was great to catch up with her while I worked before dashing off for the usual Monday meetings. Blegh.

Worked till 9.30 last night on a big deadline and off to do more of that now. Ticking bits of this project off my list helps me to lower the stress levels slightly and avoid meltdown.

Have a great week, people.

It's Friday!!!

Yes, that statement even warrants more than one exclamation mark, which is usually a big no-no for me.

I'm still feeling blue (well, more sickly green), but I seem to have the tears under control today, which is a step in the right direction. At least I now have a facade of calm. And my rescue remedy back from TSC. Coincidence?

I still don't feel like going into what's making me miz (unusual for someone who generally wants to broadcast every issue to the world, or at least the blogosphere). I guess I feel that I don't want to focus on the rubbish stuff. Also, I don't feel like hearing everyone's advice. I know what I have to do, I know what I can't do, I know that this too shall pass, and that's all I need to know. Now I just need to put my head down, do what needs to be done and make the tough decisions when they come my way. But (there's always a but), just so you know... it's mainly work stuff. Just so nobody thinks it's about TSC, k?

Right, onwards to (80s) glory! I have my totally awesome outfit picked out, the house decked out with balloons and righteous 80s decor and tonight I'll do the food prep, so hopefully all will be ready for the valley girls and punk rockers to descend upon us tomorrow evening.

I always get butterflies before I throw a party, or even if I have a big group over for dinner. I think it's because my friends are from such different walks of life (from late teens to early sixties) that I worry whether everyone will get along and stress that someone will feel left out. But it always works out well and I end up having a great time, and I'm sure that will be the case here.

Now if I can just get my complicated cake right...

What's everyone else up to this weekend?

If today was a colour it would be washed out, sickly green

• I missed celebrating my 300th blog post. This is number 304. I think.
• Struggling to keep my emotions in check today. I keep crying at the most random / inappropriate things.
• TSC took my rescue remedy with him to varsity for his maths test today. I feel bereft.
• My increasing dependence on rescue remedy to get through the day is a worry, but I reassure myself that cocaine would be a more serious issue, so I'll let this one slide.
• TSC and I are having a joint bday thingey this weekend. 80s theme. Much as it's stressing me out (dunno when I'm gonna have any time to organise the food / decor etc that I have planned), I can't wait to get my legwarmers on.
• I spent yesterday listening to 80s music in preparation. Thank goodness that decade is over. I don't think I could take any more Dr. Alban or Yazoo. Although I do still have a soft spot for Roxette.
• My boss is trying to guilt-trip me into doing a weekend work event that I really don't want to do. I have so few weekend days free at the moment (between freelance work, charity events and church stuff) that I actually just cry at the thought of it (once again - this emotion/logic thing is eluding me today). Pathetic.
• I think some uninterrupted, nightmare-free sleep might cure all of this emotional messiness. Well, at least some of it.
• It's freezing cold, even though ut was supposed to get warmer today. I really should stop giving the weatherman the benefit of the doubt. Must get more coffee...

What colour is your day?

Still in hiding

Will return soon.

For now... I leave you with this funny from my inbox:


THREE YEAR OLD BOY IS SITTING ON THE TOILET.

HIS MOTHER THINKS HE HAS BEEN IN THERE TOO LONG, SO SHE GOES IN TO SEE WHAT'S UP.

THE LITTLE BOY IS GRIPPING ON TO THE TOILET SEAT WITH HIS LEFT HAND AND
HITTING HIMSELF ON TOP OF THE HEAD WITH HIS RIGHT HAND.

HIS MOTHER SAYS: "BILLY, ARE YOU ALL RIGHT? YOU'VE BEEN IN HERE FOR A WHILE."

BILLY SAYS: "I'M FINE, MOMMY. I JUST HAVEN'T GONE 'DOODY' YET."

MOTHER SAYS: "OK, YOU CAN STAY HERE A FEW MORE MINUTES. BUT, BILLY, WHY ARE YOU HITTING YOURSELF ON THE HEAD?"

BILLY SAYS: "WORKS FOR KETCHUP."

Ever feel...

...Like just giving up the fight? Just hiding under the table until everyone leaves you alone? Or letting the men in white coats take you away to a room with nice padded walls?




I do.

Smile at the simple things

When deadlines are tight, people are unhelpful and hyperventilation is imminent, I'm smiling at:

Friendly ladybirds

Basket-case kitties

The sun making patterns on my curtains

I know it's Monday, but there are still reasons to smile, however small.

Sucky service rant and word verification

Thanks again to everyone who helped make my birthday awesome.

I had a great facial at Dischem, despite the therapist being unfriendly to the point of it actually being rude. It's the first time I've had a laser facial (hell, it's the seocnd time I've ever had any sort of facial) and it was quite pleasant. I may just have to do it again sometime.

You'll see I've turned the word verification on in my comments. I'm sorry, I know it's a pain. But I have a spammer, Ric, leaving messages on all my posts, so I'm trying to deter him. I've also turned on the comment moderation on all posts older than 14 days.

Right, now for the part where I rant... (I so love having a blog to vent on!)...

I chose Primi Extreme for my birthday supper because I was craving pasta and a cosy fire, and Design Quarter is a mere 5min from our place, so it seemed like the obvious choice. Hah!

We enjoyed our food. Pity the service was so rubbish.

Bad service frustrates me enormously. As far as I'm concerned, if I'm paying good money for something, it needs to be what I'm expecting. And at restaurants that means good food in a pleasant atmosphere served by a polite waitron.

I have mixed feelings about the Primi Piatti chain of restaurants. The first Primi I ever visited was the one in Menlyn in Pretoria, which was lovely. Set in a quiet part of the shopping centre, it had a great atmosphere, good food and the service was perfect.

I also enjoyed eating (and drinking cocktails) at the one in the Waterfront in Cape Town when we lived there. But I've had bad food or poor service at one or two other branches and gone off Primi a bit. Especially since they stopped serving gnocchi, which was one of the main reasons I visited.

Last night's experience left me with a particularly bad taste in my mouth, not because of the food (which was lovely), but because of the non-existent service. See, according to its website, Primi motivates staff through a rank system with a performance-based structure. Really? You could have fooled me.

We barely saw our waiter the whole night. He seated us and asked how we were. I said I was well - it was my birthday. But he wasn't listening to our answer at all and replied with an "uh huh" before rushing off to watch one of the athletics events that was showing on the TV. That's what he did most of the night, actually. He must be an avid athletics fan, because he was glued to that screen for 95% of the time we were there.

He took our order and served us our bread, but didn't bother bringing us olive oil or balsamic vinegar to eat it with. We tried to catch his eye to request it, but he was engrossed with the athletics.

A different waiter brought our drinks, and later our food. Nobody cleared our bread basket and side plates from the table, so there was hardly any room to eat comfortably. Nobody asked if the food was ok. Nobody asked if we'd like another drink. Nobody came near. One would have sworn we were lepers.

I waited 10 minutes to get our waiter's attention to ask for some parmesan cheese for my pasta. When he brought it, the cheese tasted awful (like it had been moulding in its plastic wrapper). When a different waiter took our plates, I told him the cheese tasted funny. He said he'd look into it. We never saw him again either.

After our meal, we sat for 20 minutes waiting for our waiter or someone else to remember we existed. Nobody offered the dessert menu. No-one asked if there was anything else we'd like.

Finally, after watching the manager laughing and chatting on his mobile phone for about 10 minutes and our waiter watching the athletics, we'd had enough. We managed to catch the manager as he walked past us.

"Seeing we haven't seen our waiter all night, would you mind finding someone to bring us our bill?" I asked.

"Oh... Ok," he said, and shouted for our waiter. No apology, please note.

When the waiter arrived, TSC and I calmly told him that we were unimpressed with his service. It wasn't a busy night (he only had our table and one other), so I said I wondered why he wasn't trying his darndest to make a decent tip by giving us proper attention (I waitressed for years and that's what I would do). He made excuses, saying he had checked on us and that we'd seemed fine. Bull! We paid and left.

On our way out, we spoke to the manager, who was lounging around at the front door again. I mentioned that it might be an idea to get his waiters to wait on tables instead of watching TV. All I got in response was another, "Oh... Ok." Once again, no apology.

Thankfully, I have a lovely husband who didn't let our bad experience spoil my birthday. He took me home and cuddled me and offered me chocolate (smart man). But I really wish I had chosen somewhere else to eat on my special day. And I really don't care if Design Quarter is walking distance from my house, I'm NOT eating at Primi there again.

Right. Rant done. Have a great weekend! I plan to ;-)

Nothing like a birthday to banish the blues

One of the reasons I have been so miserable of late is that I have a really big freelance project for a well-known publication due shortly, and I have been unable to get started on it. I need to interview 20-odd people, most of whom I have been unable to reach (thanks to incorrect contact details being supplied). This is enormously stressful, because if I screw up with this publication, my name is mud in the industry as a whole.

So that's one of the reasons for my unhappy face. Another reason was that I thought my birthday would be a total non-event and that nobody would remember or care. My family couldn't fit me in today (although they do have very valid reasons) and TSC (who is also super stressed at the moment) mistakenly gave the impression that he might not be able to make time for me today either*, so I was feeling a bit unloved and pathetic about it all. Birthdays are a big deal to me.

BUT... I have been thoroughly blessed today and it's only 11am. TSC woke me up at 6.00 (no, that's not the blessing bit. That sucked) to give me my present and card before he had to leave for varsity. He also made a pot of coffee so I could grab some on my way out. I knew what he would giving me - a drum players' starter box (with a pair of sticks, cymbal cleaning cloths, backing-track CDs and exercise books) - so I didn't expect to be excited by the gift.

See, I played drums years back but have not unpacked my kit since we moved to Joburg. Seeing I can't afford lessons at the moment (in terms of money or time), but I really want to play again, I asked him to get me some practising basics. I have sticks, brushes and the drum kit itself, and now I have some direction.

Opening that box this morning, I remembered how much I love playing. And although I had been worried I'd forgotten absolutely everything, when I flipped through the book, I could remember how to read the music and how to do a basic rock beat, which was really encouraging.

TSC had also written such a lovely message in the card (which I always appreciate from my man of few words) and had included some money for me to get this handmade photo-holder wall decoration thing I fell in love with at the Irene Village Market. So sweet that he actually remembered how much it cost!

Then my grandparents phoned to wish me well, and to tell me they've left a present with my folks for me. And I have had messages from the most unexpected people - my best friend's younger brother, a friend's girlfriend who's currently in Cambridge... even my insurance company phoned personally to wish me well (damn straight - with the amount I pay them every month, flowers would have been more appropriate).

I had a card from my mom's best friend, text messages from Phillygirl, my darling uncle in Kuwait (who NEVER remembers my birthday), and various other friends and random service providers (thanks Vodacom. How about some free airtime?). I even have a free facial this afternoon from Dischem (how's that for a customer loyalty reward?).

When I came to work, Roo and Boss spoilt me with candles, chocolate (Lindt mint intense - my fave), a cosmetic bag and mirror, make-up and a beautiful jewellery stand. And then, the cherry on top - I opened my inbox to find birthday messages from blog friends, well wishes in my comments section, greetings from work associates and a beautiful message with a book/CD voucher from Angel, Glug and Damien, which had me in tears.

*Happy sigh*. Thanks, everyone. You have made my day wonderful. My heart is overflowing. If I could I'd send you all some of the yummy mallow-topped cupcakes I baked for the office...

*All sorted out now. We were just having a this-proves-the-difference-in-the-way-men-and-women-think moment of miscommunication.

Happy lists instead of lamentations

Tomorrow's my birthday.

Just deleted the rest of the lines I had written for this post which were thoroughly miserable.

Everything seems to be getting to me at the moment and I'm not sure why. I'm not (according to my mother) very good at managing my stress, so I go through these extreme downs. Blegh. But I'm not going to focus on the crap stuff today.

I'm going to list the things there are to be happy about instead. Because I need to. Please add yours so I can smile for you too.

• Tomorrow night TSC and I are going out for dinner to celebrate my 25th.
• I have proper post (not bills or ads) to open when I wake up.
• I don't have client meetings this afternoon.
• My house is fairly tidy for a change (spent Sunday turning the pantry on its head and cleaning it out to banish the moth infestation we had for some reason. There was curry powder / corn flour / moths / noodles / assorted other stuff all over the kitchen floor). the fact that the mess has gone makes me ever so slightly calmer.
• I watched Ghost Town last night. I wasn't expecting much, but it made me laugh out loud, which was so good.
• My cats have developed the habit of following me around the house whenever I'm home and lying down next to me when I sit down anywhere. There's nothing quite like cat love.
• We were invited to a birthday lunch on Sunday. We can't make it (because we're having my birthday lunch with my family), but it's nice to be invited. I often feel like TSC and I host people all the time and never get invited back. Although there are one or two people (like Phillygirl and Angel) who are super good at organising and inviting and whom I am in complete awe of.
• TSC and I have discovered the Lindt Petits Desserts range. It's ridiculously expensive stuff, but the Mousse au Chocolat in dark chocolate is possibly the best thing I've tasted in this world.

Tell me the good things in your life right now.

Garden stuff (in which I wax lyrical about peas and whine about my sore back)

Monday.

What did you feel when you saw that word?

Hope you're all having a good one so far. Mine hasn't been too bad. Irritating clients who don't communicate have been my worst problem so far, which is pretty good going for 11am, I reckon.

My back is killing me. I spent the whole of Saturday digging in the garden and serving TSC's ungrateful bunch of varsity people while they built their concrete boat. Which is actually more of a paddle ski, to be honest. It's quite impressive - they've made a metal frame, stuffed it with polystyrene and coated it with concrete-soaked cloth and some more concrete. They just have to paint it with a few coats of waterproofing paint and it should be ready to race.

I got one no-dig veggie bed done. What a mission! The veggies better be worth it in the end. first you make a frame, which I made with two layers of stacked concrete bricks. Then you put down a layer of newspaper, 5mm thick. Then you put down a layer of hay or lucerne (I had to get all this stuff from a horse-feed place), 10cm thick. Then you put down some organic matter (kitchen scraps, wilted weeds etc). Then you put down a layer of loose straw, 10cm thick, and some more organic matter. Then you water it well. Lastly, you top it with a 20 - 30cm layer of compost and water it again. Now I have to leave it to settle for two weeks before I can plant.

I have said before that patience is not my strong point. I want to plant NOW.

The point of a no-dig bed is that in theory, you never have to dig it (was that maybe a little obvious?). When you harvest your veggies, you just top up the bed with another 10cm compost and plant your next crop (obviously making sure you follow rotation guidelines so you keep your bed healthy).

The thing is... I ran out of bricks after this one bed. So now I need to get more to do the next oh, I dunno, five or six beds. Yes, five or six more of these back-breaking expensive bloody beds.

Like I said, the veggies better be worth it.

My current veggies are making me happy though. My peas are divine. There are few things in this world as yummy as a handful of freshly shelled sweet baby peas out the garden. Mmmm. In fact, these sparked my latest salad creation: a bed of sweet, tangy lettuce (not the boring variety) with sliced avocado and strawberries, finely chopped green pepper and fresh baby peas, dried cranberries and a handful of mixed seeds, all tossed in Pomegranite-infused white balsamic vinegar. Yum!

Hmmm... hungry now. Off to make some lunch. One last thing to say...

CONGRATULATIONS to ANGEL and GLUG on their ENGAGEMENT!

Catch-up time

Technical issues drive me mental. On Tues, we had no power at the office. That screwed up our internet (always does), so we had no email or web access for most of Wed. Thankfully, we seem to be up and running today. Yesterday I had to have my car windscreen replaced, so it's been an annoying week.


Luckily the long weekend turned out to be a good break, although sleeping on new beds and lots of driving meant we were both tired at the end of it and felt like we needed a day just to recover.


Contrary to what everyone seemed to think when I mentioned KZN, we were not in Durban or on the coast. My grandparents live in the sleepy town of Howick, which is about an hour and a half's drive away from the sea, in the Natal Midlands.

We spent a lovely day having a braai and picnic with the grandparents on Saturday at Midmar Dam. On Sunday we headed through to The Pavilion for me to make my annual stop at Oh La La and then went down to the beachfront for a bit of a walk.

We went to Mini Town (sadly not as awesome as I remember it being as a kid), ate yummy Milky Lane ice-cream and admired the sand sculptures on the beach before heading back to Howick.

We left at 5.30am on Monday morning and were back in Gauteng before 11am, which gave us time to snooze, chill and then work a bit.

This weekend, our house is being invaded by students so TSC and his team can start their big project - building a concrete boat. Should be interesting!

I also need to get seriously stuck into the garden (am replanting at the front of the house and replacing bits of our watering system at the back) and find a good cake recipe. It's my birthday next week Thursday and I'll need to top last year's chocolate devil's food cake with marshmallow frosting ;-)

Right now, I'm off to catch up on some blog reading. Have a great Friday!

I'm on my own in the office today

Boss and Roo are out at a meeting.

That means I have to answer phones. I have total phone phobia, so I am not enjoying it. But I can deal with it all - the cold, the phones, the fact that I spent all my free time yesterday helping TSC with varsity work and even the morons on the raod this morning - because tomorrow afternoon we leave for KwaZulu-Natal!

I want to see my grandparents, drink copious cups of tea in their cosy lounge, talk about plants with Lilly, visit a few favourite spots at the Pavilion shopping centre (it's tragic that I still know the shops better in Durban and Cape Town than in Joburg), not check my email, spend time with TSC not doing chores or varsity / work stuff and generally enjoy the fact that we have a bit of a break.

I. CANNOT. WAIT.

Which does unfortunately make the day seem slower. I'm sure it should be home time by now?

My darling dad

I was thinking about blogging at about 3am this morning (if I blogged as much as I thought about blogging, I'd have about 16 books' worth by now) and I realised that after Mothers Day, I wrote a post about stuff I love about my mom, but I never did one about my dad. And he is so awesome, that it just isn't fair not to write one, so here's a dozen random things I dig about my dad:

• He is an old-school man's man. No beauty products or pink shirts for him. He owns one mauve shirt and makes sure that everyone he sees when he wears it gets told, "my wife picked this shirt out".
• He is conservative to the point that it's a little odd. His catch-phrase is "I am the only normal one in this family" and he raises his eyebrows at everything from ankle bracelets to any nail polish colour that isn't red or clear. But...
• He owns a head-turning bright red 1996 Porsche that you can hear from a block away. The family calls it The Beast.
• He is passionate about cars (he's a mechanical engineer) and could author books on the subject. He knows the history of car companies, the latest models and specs and everything there is to know about engines, tyres and anything else automotive. He instilled an appreciation of beautiful motor cars in my brother and I, and taught me to love Formula One.
• He is a walking encyclopaedia of general knowledge. And it's all because he loves to ask questions and to learn. He will never pretend to understand something if he doesn't - he'll just find out about it right away so that he can understand. Although he would have liked me to be a chartered accountant and not a journo, I truly believe it's an inherited sense of curiousity I have from him that makes me love journalism so much.
• He pretends he hates cats. But when he thinks nobody is looking, he'll lapse into baby-talk and get all gooey with them.
• He is incredibly and supremely generous. Not in the same way as my mom, who is drawn to any underdog or charity case, but to those he holds dear. He will do anything for my mom, his dad and us kids. And those we love. So TSC, Lilly, my mom's mom and even my not-his-cup-of-tea cousins, aunts and uncles benefit from his family generosity.
• He can make the hard decisions. That's what makes him a good business leader. He believes in efficiency, economy and perseverence. He was hired by his current company to cut out the wastage, optimise productivity and generally stop all the nonsense that was going on (misuse of company assets and so on). It's a tough job that means he's not always popular, but he always gets the job done.
• Aside from his one extravagance (the Porsche. He wanted one from the time he was a mini motor-head kidlet and bought this rare one as an investment. Driving it is his weekend treat), he doesn't believe in excess. He has done well for himself, but he can't see the point of flashy watches, flying first class or other showy status symbols. He is as down to earth as ever, and prefers to spend money looking after those he loves rather than splashing out on himself. He also lets my mom channel money into her charity projects. It's awesome and very unusual, IMO.
• I have inherited his music taste. Well, most of it (not so much Cat Stevens). I'm not sure whether that's good or bad, but thanks to my dad, I love music from the 50s and 60s. Simon & Garfunkel, Herman and the Hermits, The Beatles, Louis Armstrong, The Platterers... I love it!
• He speaks well and taught me to love words and language. My mom is the reader; my dad is the speaker. He does "off the cuff" well, and I'm lucky to have that talent too (I think, at least).
• He has mellowed over the years. While my dad has the temper of a tiger (something I also got from him), he has turned into a teddy bear with us most of the time. He phones me a few times a week to check up on me and TSC ("just wanted to find out how you and your man are" is how these conversations inevitably start) and relishes the chance to spend time with us. He buys my mom flowers every Thursday without fail (did I mention he's big on routine?) and invites us over practically every weekend. The only time I see him lose his temper these days is when my brother damages his car (happens every few months or so). He is such a sweetheart.

He doesn't read my blog (for someone who's a total technology fan and has most IT gadgets, he still doesn't "get" blogging), but if he did, I'd tell him:

Love you, dad. You're my hero ;-)

Added at 6:11pm: Just discovered an old friend of mine is now blogging. Yay! Visit her at http://uttermutters.blogspot.com/. She's awesome.

The Radio Randomness in my brain

Tune into the live broadcast from my brain for a few minutes... it's a mess up there...

• TSC has just found out that he has to wear glasses. The evil eye doctor *makes spitting sound* says the eye op to remove the pterygium was successful but too late - the eye won't get any better than its current blurriness. TSC is quitebummed. I can just picture how many pairs of glasses are going to be sat on, but I think he'll look hot with glasses. Hell, I think he looks hot in anything. Or nothing. Hehehe... Shame, poor man still thinks of all glasses as those worn by Steve Urkel. I'm thinking more Jude Law, actually. Mmmm... So going glasses shopping with him next week!
• Work is still weird. We had another resignation yesterday, only according to Boss it wasn't a resignation. Colleague has apparently taken a sabbatical and will return in a few months. I somehow don't think so (having spoken to her about it). We are down to three again - me, Roo and Boss. *sigh* It's hard to keep saying goodbye to people I really like.
• I am trying to cheer myself up by the thought of the approaching long weekend (it's a public / bank holiday this Mon). We are off to KwaZulu-Natal (KZN) to visit my grandparents and fetch the trailer they are giving us (so cool of them). I CANNOT wait to be off the Gauteng roads. Useless Joburg drivers are getting to me more than usual. I feel my bloof pressure rising when I get in the car. Also, a big part of my heart still lives in KZN and I love going back there, especially to spend time with my darling granddad and Lilly.
• I can tell when my life is feeling all over the show because I suddenly can't let my house that be that way. I get these sudden "must tidy; must organise" urges. Last night I turned my bedroom upside-down, moving furniture around and repacking thinsg to try to make "more space" (ridiculous, seeing our bedroom is huge) and "less clutter" (not so ridiculous - I tend to pile things without homes in random spots around the house. There's one in the corner of the kitchen counter, one on my bedside table, and one on top of the gas heater unit).
• You'll probably think this is sad, but I can't wait to prune my roses today! This is my incentive to finish all my work early so I can have time to do my gardening. I have neglected my plants throughout winter because I've been so busy and it's just so flipping cold outside, but Lilly taught me how to prune while she was here and I can't wait to practice this new skill. Am also busy trying to figure out my plan for my veggie garden (I have decided my haphazard approach of planting things randomly wherever I feel like it at any given time unfortunately doesn't work as well as I'd hoped). I want to set out no-dig beds, which is a major mission, and make sure I follow good rotation rules so that I don't end up with unhealthy, bug-infested soil.
• My freelance work is still scaring me. I get a tight feeling in my chest when I think of it. I think it's mainly because I'm worried that I will forget about an assignment and just not turn in the work when it's due. This is unlikely, as I obsess about it well into the wee hours of the morning. Forgetting is not a problem. I guess I also worry that clients won't be impressed with the work I've done. *sigh* Enough of that, though... making myself nauseous!
• I am so loving the DairyBelle kids' range of smooth low-fat yoghurts! I just had the cherry lollipop flavour and it's really yummy, even in the cold (when I usually go off yoghurt. And most things healthy).
• It's already 11.25am and I am nowhere with my work for today, so if I want to prune, I must stop procrastinating and end this post. Adieu.

It's just all so... odd

Everything is weird at work at the moment. I can't explain, just in cas (as Ches pointed out the other day, you never know who's reading), but it truly is random and unsettling and I don't know where things stand.

*Sigh*

Curiouser and curiouser as Alice would say.

On a nicer note, the weekend was mostly great. I went to a 40th birthday party on Sat with the dress code "black tie or fancy dress". No theme, just that.

Am I the only one confused by that? Generally if it's dress-up, it's a theme. Like mafia. Or Pirates of the Caribbean. Or Medieval. But no, for this one, we had licence to dress up like clowns or queens... whatever our preference.

And normally I LOVE dress-up. I tend to go a bit over the top, actually. But I was nervous going on my own (TSC being away on men's camp), because I knew there would be hardly anyone my age and that I wouldn't know anyone other than the birthday boy and his fiance. I decided to go black tie with a feathered mask just in case no-one else was in costume.

It turned out I needn't have worried - their were scores of people dressed up (from the host dressed as Elvis to a Zorro, Priscilla Queen of the Desert, pirates, convicts and a Cleopatra) and loads in black tie, so I would have been fine either way.

I had also been to a girls' tea party that afternoon (not really my thing, but turned out to be good fun) and a friend who is studying make-up did mine for the evening. Wow! I didn't know I could look like that! It seriously helped me to walk into a room full of strangers knowing I looked my best.

Pity I don't have any photos, but that is typical of me. I prefer being behind the lens rather than in front, so I have pictures of everyone else at the party (even random folks I didn't actually meet), just not of me ;-)

So just take my word that I looked fabulous, k?

After my last post, where I just happened to mention Bosnia, I have been asked to write about our family trip there in 2006. My laptop with all my photos on it was stolen shortly afterwards, so I'll have to see if I can get some pics from my parents, but I'll try to post about that this week.

In the mean time, have a good Monday, folks.

Associations

Do you ever get those sudden memory flashes that aren't really related to a specific memory, but to a time or a place in your life?

I so often smell something, hear a certain sound or even see a shape or colour that transports me somewhere or sometime else. For example, if I hear the sound of the icecream van with its tinkly music driving through the suburbs, I am taken back to when my brother and I (aged about five and nine respectively) would beg my mom for money, jump on our bikes and cycle madly through our neighbourhood, stopping occasionally to try and hear which direction the tinkle was coming from.

Or if I smell ceylon tea, my memory is of sitting with my grandparents on their bed, early in the morning when I was very young on my first away-from-home-on-my-own trip to them. They would make tea at about 6am every morning before they got ready for the day and I would cuddle with them on their creaky old bed, surrounded my huge floral-patterned pillow, carefully sipping my weak, sweet tea out of a proper china teacup, which made me feel very grown up. My gran has been gone for almost 15 years now, but it's still one of my strongest memories of her.

There are other associations I have that I can't explain very well. A certain rich afternoon light always reminds me of my exchange in Melbourne, Australia, when I was in high school, and I'm not sure why that is.

Sometimes the slightest things that I don't even really notice consciously will give me what I call the "holiday feeling". Do you know the one? When you feel all excited with butterflies in your tummy, as though you are in some exotic foreign place on an adventure, but for no real reason?

I'm trying so hard to pin this down and make it make sense to myself (and perhaps you), but it's so difficult to explain. This morning, for instance, I was looking through my LOLcat newsletter (always a good way to start the day) and I saw this photo:

And all of a sudden a memory of our family trip to Bosnia came to me and I felt exactly how I felt on that day, yet I can't explain what it was in the photo that spoke to that memory. Perhaps the building in the background reminded my subconscious of something there? I'm not sure, but it had nothing to do with the cats - the subject of the photo.

*Sigh* I'm very up in the air in my posts at the moment. Sorry. Exploring the inside of my head a bit, I guess. It's sometimes more interesting in there than out in the real world of writing press releases and filling in tax forms.

Have a good weekend, y'all. I plan to ;-)

Sometimes I wonder why I watch F1

Honestly! I mean, it's fabulously exciting (and don't even think of giving me the "it's just noisy cars going round a track" line if you've ever watched a bloody five-day cricket match, which should be listed as the dictionary definition of boring). But the shenanigans that go on in my sport are enough to make even the Ice Man (Kimi Raikkonen) grimace once in awhile.

It's like a Hollywood film, with an ancient dictator (played to perfection by Max Mosely, although closely contested by Bernie Ecklestein) controlling the reins of the world's most lucrative sport. The hero is played by either the wounded Massa, the champion rookie Hamilton (who has returned to glory), the no-longer-retired Schumacher (yes, he has returned in a red Ferrari cape to "save the day/race" in Massa's place, German Superman style) or the only-just-beginning-to-battle Button / Brawn team... it all depends on your point of view, really.

Then there is the battle of wills between FOTA (Formula One Teams Association) and the FIA (the sport's governing body)... come now, keep up with the abbreviations... and the exit of the BMW-Sauber team, which announced yesterday that it is quitting the sport, much to the dismay of its drivers (Heidfeld admitted it was a total shock to him).

Drama drama drama...

But you know what? That's the way they like it. That's how they all engineer it. Take, for example, the whole "Return of the Schumacher" saga. On Tuesday, the story titled "Manager rules out Schumi F1 return" ran, in which the German's manager Willi Weber told the Daily Mail, "Whoever sits in the car at the next race in Valencia, it will not be Michael Schumacher. I am not 100 per cent sure; I am 200 per cent sure."

He continued to dig himself a hole saying, "The pressure on him would be huge. He would be expected to win, but he has not driven this car. When Michael was racing he would get as close to perfection as possible. In this case, it would not be perfection; it would be a gamble - and that's not Michael's style."

Hardy har har... On Wednesday, not even 24 hours later, the headlines screamed "Schumi returns to F1".

On his official website, ze mighty man wrote, "The most important thing first: thank God, all the news concerning Felipe is positive. I wish him all the best again." He then went on, "I met with [team principal] Stefano Domenicali and [Ferrari chairman] Luca di Montezemolo this afternoon and together we decided that I will prepare myself to take Felipe’s place... Although it is true that the Formula 1 chapter of my life has been closed completely and for a long while, it is also true that out of loyalty to the team I cannot ignore the unfortunate situation."

It's all a grand parade, this F1 thing, isn't it? A spectacle, a circus, a farce in which we, the fans, are managed by the experienced F1 crew of actors and directors. Smoke, mirrors and the smell of burnt rubber on the track.

Did he actually ever believe he wouldn't consider a return, or has that been the very-well-managed-in-terms-of-media-hype plan all along? And does it really matter?

I may as well start watching that WWE wrestling crap.

2nd post for the day (in which I over-think)

For the first time ever I am doing two posts on one day. The one below this one is just a boring diary-of-Tamara catch-up, which is probably tedious reading but is more for my therapy than your reading pleasure. So there. *pulls tongue*

This post though... is just something I've been thinking about for ages: Is my blogging bad for my writing?

I think it was Boldly Benny who has looked at this subject before, but it's something that's been bugging me. I'm someone who writes for a living and I keep wondering whether my self-indulgent rambling impacts on my "proper" writing (for lack of a better term) by teaching me bad habits.

I mean, essentially I write whatever I like here (although I do sometimes censor myself to keep anyone from getting in trouble or to protect myself and those I love), while my other writing has to be structured for a specific purpose. I can't just waffle about my feelings for a big financial story, for example. Or inject the slang words I blog with into web copy for a technical company (I have recently realised how often I use the word "awesome" as a description and that I tend to start sentences with "so").

On the other hand (and, proving my point, I am essentially "thinking out loud" or writing as I think here), maybe this blog allows me to clear my head and my heart to be focused on my pays-my-salary writing. Maybe writing this online diary of sorts (that usefully acts as an I-can't-lose-these-notes-coz-they're-not-on-paper record of things for me) gives me the outlet I need. I have always said it's my therapy.

I don't think I could consider giving blogging up. I have met such cool people through it and it really does help me to keep my head straight. I just sometimes find myself reading other people's blogs and admiring their writing style and thinking, "I should use my blog to develop my style - I should write properly like they do."

And yet, some of the blogs I read are on my list not for the writing but for the realness, which teaches me something else completely. Something that's not academic or even something I could put in words, but that benefits me enormously. Something about the human spirit - about laughing, sharing, sorrow and connection.

I don't know what I'm on about anymore. Give me your thoughts, please! They may be more coherent.

Assorted catch-up

Sorry for the little break in blogging transmission. I am just snowed under at the moment.

Thanks to those of you who asked about how Friday's meeting and the weekend went. The meeting seemed to go well, although the client is one of those who's not very good at the things that are supposed to happen after the meeting - sending me the necessary info, contact details etc, which is a bit frustrating.

The weekend was packed, but fun. On Friday night we went out to one of my best restaurants in Joburg with some neighbours we met at the AGM of the complex where we live. Ghazal's is a place that started out small and has become incredibly well known for their excellent Northern Indian cuisine and good service. You have to book to get a spot there on any night of the week. The restaurant has expanded a few times and now occupies practically half of the block of shops it's in. I'm sure world domination is next. And I wouldn't mind if it came with their curry ;-)

We so enjoyed getting to know the much-older couples we ate out with, Peter and Sandie (in their 60s) and Paddy and Vicki (in their 50s). We had some good red wine and the excellent food (TSC had the Lamb JaL Frezi and I had the Chicken Makhnie) and talked well into the evening. The six of us decided to make this a regular event, and TSC and I will host a braai (BBQ) for the next dinner so that he can show them "how to braai their meat properly". Hehehe...

Saturday was spent with the lovely Ruby, who got dragged to Pretoria with us, where we unexpectedly ran into two of my favourite people - Angel and Glug. It was nice to see them, even for a few minutes. After that, we took Ruby to the Irene Village Market, where we had brunch (homemade pies for TSC and I and a vetkoek for Rubyshoes) and oohed and ahhed over the lovely things on sale. Later we watched the rugby together with some red wine and TSC let Ruby and I play bloggers catch-up, which was fun.

On Sunday we were up early to get some work done before my folks arrived. TSC worked on his varsity stuff and I uploaded media coverage for the client whose data capturing I do. Fun fun. But then my parents and brother arrived (in their separate cars) and we had a great time together.

I had made a traditional Sunday lunch: roast leg of lamb, roast veggies (with my favourite chilli, lime and coriander salt), rice and gravy. We had blueberry cheesecake icecream for dessert, with fresh fruit salad and hot chocolate pudding. Yum! It all turned out very well.

My dad, TSC and I watched the F! Grand Prix together (great race for our McLaren team, although the weekend was marred by Massa's nasty accident) while my brother messed around with his car's brakes, which weren't working well. My mom had a catnap in the sunshine.

When we decided to take a walk around the complex, my brother said he was leaving to visit his girlfriend (not a walker, my brother). He got in the car and it started making a weird noise. I also pointed out that it was leaking something all over my driveway, which turned out to be brake fluid. Not good.

Deciding that it was not safe to drive the car, my folks took my brother in their car and left his car in our driveway. We rushed off to church to be there by 5.20pm to help one of our welcome teams that was short of people. We had to take the church trailer with us, which is currently being stored in our driveway as we have to transport the sound equipment to a few venues this week.

That meant that we had to stay for both services to pack up the sound stuff afterwards. We only got home at 10.30pm! So much for working on my freelance stuff after church. At least we got to have a quick cuppa between services with Kim and Brett, one of the nicest couples we've met in Joburg.

Monday was just as packed, but TSC and I had to take time out in the afternoon to get home and help my mom load my brother's car onto a rented car trailer to take it back to Pretoria to be fixed. We live in a cul de sace with a tiny turning circle at the end, so getting the massive trailer and bakkie (truck / utility vehicle) turned around was such a pain, nevermind that the trailer was a piece of crap and none of its parts worked properly (for example, the loop that you're supposed to thread the car straps through to secure it on the trailer was broken).

I worked till 11 on Mon night to catch up and then couldn't sleep becuase my mind was in work mode. Tuesday was just as hectic. And I have betwenn 20 and 30 people coming to my house tonight for a bring and braai life group social. Eeep!

I was planning a big ladies' thing for this Sat, but I actually decided not to contact anyone about it. I want Saturday to myself (TSC is away on church mens' camp) to breathe a bit.

Weekend!

Yay! Yay! Yay!

I feel as though this week has dragged its heels like a stubborn five-year old on his way to a bath. But at last, the end has come.

Well, nearly. I still have a big client meeting this afternoon and loads of that intimidating freelance work to do before I can kick back and enjoy a curry with some of our neighbours tonight, but I can feel the relief already.

Although, I am still nervous about the meeting this afternoon. Firstly, I hate Friday afternoon meetings, because the thought of weekend plans makes concentration difficult. "Yes, I totally agree with your decision to relook your website curry... I mean copy. Sorry."

Secondly, this client is awesome, but incredibly intelligent (like genius level) and I feel like he talks over my head 90% of the time. And he talks super fast and in techie jargon, making the keeping up even more of a challenge. I'm always a couple of TLAs (three-letter acronyms) behind him.

Thirdly, he's not actually my client - I was brought in on this job by a colleague to do certain bits of it - so I need to not screw up, or I'll reflect badly on the person who recommended me.

Eeep!

I sometimes get terrified when I realise that this little business TSC and I started rests squarely in my hands at the moment (until his studies finish, at least. And probably beyond). It's my job to make it a success, and it's my responsibility if it all goes balls up.

But right now I'm going to try to forget that, make myself a cuppa and grab a rusk while I daydream of curry and my warm bed.

Have a fabulous Friday, people. I leave you with a funny from my inbox:

We are about to enter the braai (BBQ) season. Therefore it is important to refresh your memory on the etiquette of this sublime outdoor cooking activity.

When a man volunteers to do the braai the following chain of events are put into motion: Routine...
(1) The woman buys the food.
(2) The woman makes the salad, prepares the vegetables, and makes dessert ..
(3) The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along with the necessary cooking utensils and sauces, and takes it to the man who is lounging beside the grill - beer in hand.
(4) The woman remains outside the compulsory three meter exclusion zone where the exuberance of testosterone and other manly bonding activities can take place without the interference of the woman.

BBQ RULES
Here comes the important part:
(5) THE MAN PLACES THE MEAT ON THE GRILL.


(6) The woman goes inside to organize the plates and cutlery.
(7) The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is looking great. He thanks her and asks if she will bring another beer while he flips the meat.

Important again:
(8) THE MAN TAKES THE MEAT OFF THE GRILL AND HANDS IT TO THE WOMAN.


More routine...
(9) The woman prepares the plates, salad, bread, utensils, napkins, sauces, and brings them to the table.
(10) After eating, the woman clears the table and does the dishes.

And most important of all:
(11) Everyone PRAISES the MAN and THANKS HIM for his cooking efforts.
(12) The man asks the woman how she enjoyed 'her night off' and, upon seeing her annoyed reaction, concludes that there's just no pleasing some women.

Overwhelmed

I am in ostrich mode.

I'm feeling overwhelmed by my freelance work (especially by one client, who seems to think I have access to limitless time, funds and even government ministers. Hah! I wish) and so I am doing what I usually do when things get too much - procrastinating. I've been blogging, reading blogs, going through my junk emails folder, chatting with colleagues and generally doing everything I can to not do what I need to do.

Clever, hey? Putting aside the big pile of work until I have even less time to deal with it. Tsssk tsssk, Tamara.

My dad reckons I work better under pressure. I think I have no choice - the pressure is usually my own fault. I just don't know where to start, so I don't start.

I must get over this. Let me take a step towards that goal now and go and nail at least the top things on my to-do list. Fun, fun.

I miss my iPod*

I know I am sometimes a bit of a technophobe** and that I didn't want an iPod at first, but when the one I was given got swiped (ages ago), I didn't really click what I was losing... Salvation from South African radio DJs and crappy teeny-bopper pop music nonsense that invades my headspace daily (along with the nutty ideas, odd complexes and few delusions that already reside there, it's getting a bit crowded now).



We have such a limited choice of radio stations (in English, my mother tongue, at least) here and I just don't understand why they must all be stocked with annoying DJs. And I'm not just talking about the music (wait, that rant is coming later in this post) - I know they don't get much of a choice in the playlists. But for goodness' sake... is it really necessary to be so irritating?



There are those who make lame toilet-humour jokes that are appropriate for kids under the age of 10 (ok, ok, ok... and me, after a few glasses of wine). Then there are others who turn every single sentence into some sort of dodgey sexual innuendo (like that freaky Brand Power lady who sounds all sultry and excited about washing powder and other such scintillating products). Some are boring (the mere sound of their droning voices puts you to sleep and you should not be tuning in while driving). Others are whiney. And there are a whole bunch who think they are way funnier than they are.



There are one or two who are not bad at all (and they are obviously the ones in the prime driving-time slots), but most of them still play the awful music that all sounds the same to me.



Call me a granny, but I like music with a beat, a tune and decent lyrics. At the moment all I seem to hear (on whatever radio station it is that the girls at the office are permanently listening to throughout the day) is high-pitched nonsense that all sounds the same. And the words! I have come to the conclusion that the best way to make a career in music is to find a phrase or even a word you really like and sing it (or shriek it in some cases) over and over and over again. At least three times.

Example 1:
You can stand under my umbrella
You can stand under my umbrella
(Ella ella, eh eh eh)
Under my umbrella
(Ella ella, eh eh eh)
Under my umbrella
(Ella ella, eh eh eh)
Under my umbrella
(Ella ella, eh eh eh, eh eh eh)


Example 2:

Why does love always feel like a battlefield, a battlefield, a battlefield

Why does love always feel like a battlefield, a battlefield, a battlefield

Better go and get your armor (get your armor), get your armor (get your armor)

I guess you better go and get your armor (get your armor), get your armor (get your armor)

I guess you better go and get your...

Example 3:
It's not fair
And I think you're really mean
I think you're really mean
I think you're really mean
Oh you're supposed to care
But you never make me scream
You never make me scream

Oh it's not fair
And it's really not ok
It's really not ok
It's really not ok
Oh you're supposed to care
But all you do is take
Yeah all you do is take

And who could forget that super-stupid "boom boom boom" song from the Black Eyed Peas?

Give me some good old-fashioned Counting Crows, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Simon & Garfunkel, Cold Play or U2. Hmmm... it seems only half the problem is with the daft music... I don't seem to like female musicians as much as the men. No, that can't be right, becuase there's loads of awful music by dudes on the radio... Pit Bull, Sean Kingston and Kanye West ("Paranoid" is a prime example) to name just a few.

If I had the choice I would work in silence. It's easier to concentrate. But if I was going to pick music to listen to at the office, it certainly wouldn't be the crap we have on at the moment (Something about Release Meeeeeeeee, Release my bod-eeeeeeeee. Ugh).

I reckon my project this week will be to create a mix CD for the office.


*If I say it three times in a row to a beat, I could be the next big pop star!

**Which is better than being a rectal probe

TIA

This Is Africa ;-)

No power on Fri.

No water today.

No ADSL for the majority of the day.

I guess it reminds us that we do not control our circumstances, right?

Dr Moron

On Monday I took TSC to his follow-up appointment with the eye specialist. I don't like this man. Firstly, he always keeps us waiting. And I'm not talking about 15 minutes either. When TSC went in for the op, he waited for four and a half hours. Secondly, the doctor has this patronising way of speaking to people, like he's the only one over the age of five in the room. That is one of my pet peeves in life (probably because I'm small and tend to get it a lot as people think I'm younger than I am).

Also (and this is the biggie), the twit didn't explain properly to TSC how to use the meds he gave him at the last appointment. Instead of the little eye-drop bottles with stick-on labels that contain dosage details and instructions like you'd get at the pharmacy, TSC was given bottles with handwritten orange stickers that just had the name of the drops, not how often / how long to use them for.

I was at the last appointment, and I made notes on how often TSC needed to use the drops (the clear one needs to be kept in the fridge and should be used morning and night; the one in the white and green bottle should also be used twice daily but doesn't need to be refrigerated; the tear gel should be used at least four times a day...etc).

After a week of TSC using all these lovely, expensive meds, I asked how long he had to use them for. He didn't know - neither the nurse he saw after the op who dished them out, nor the moronic doctor had mentioned it. "Well call them!" I said.

But the doctor was on holiday. He was still on holiday when TSC got the paint in his eye. I couldn't believe he hadn't left someone responsible for his patients. TSC explained he had - his associate, who would happily see TSC. And charge him his exorbitant new-patient consultation fee.

We reasoned that if nobody had said anything, the meds were probably meant to be taken until the follow-up consultation.

So, on Monday, we get there and the doctor asks TSC how his eye is doing. TSC says it's still sore, scratchy, light-sensitive and blurry and that the meds aren't helping - they actually seem to make it worse. At which point the doctor says that they probably are making it worse, seeing they are only meant to be used for a week post-op. He also manages to make it sound like we are silly children who didn't listen properly and that this is all our fault. I interject that we weren't told how long they were to be used. "Oh. Sorry," he says nonchalantly, before going on to tell TSC that by using the drops, he's probably made the eye far worse than it could be and that he'll need another prescription of new expensive meds to correct the damage.

He removes the last stitch from TSC's eye (shudder!) and shooes us out of his office. Without the promised prescription. TSC will now need to call and go through to pick it up. What a waste of time!

Not happy with this doctor dude - supposedly one of the top specialists in his field in the province. I have a fantasy of breaking into his house while he's sleeping and sticking an earbud (Q-tip) into his eye and yelling, "How do you like that, hey? Hey?!"

Grrrr.