like a virgin

I do yoga at the gym, it's different. The setting is nice, a large, airy room, fake wooden floor, a wall covered in woodland paper, soft music. It's just............it's a gym.
Our teacher is lovely, soft spoken, limber and explains the positions well. She will start a pose at my level (-2) and then gradually add variations to suit the more agile. But there's no continuity, one week 12 eager yogis, next week 3 and somehow I doubt we'll hear Mr Patanjali's name in class because it is after all a gym, not a  retreat.
 As you know, I miss the old ways, perhaps Caroline was a once-off, but her classes weren't just about flexing the body, there was a whole lifestyle involved and a permanence brought about by seeing the same friendly faces each week.. Now I don't know if I'll be peering at a plumber's crack or a tramp-stamp, a full class or just me.
Perhaps I hanker too much after a gentler way. There's a wonderful studio in Gardens, unfortunately too far for me, perhaps one day I'll find something similar close by.
Until then it's yoga to the sounds of the Boot Camp Dance Class next door and the chemical smell of the swimming pool. The silver lining is our yoga teacher, I hope she stays around for a long time.
As an aside, when I joined the gym the young man who signed me up seemed so excited, I think I'm the oldest person he's had on his books. However, the chap who showed me around seemed determined to steer me away from physical activity into the swimming pool for water aerobics. Hmm, he just didn't understand when I tried to explain that I only swim in February.


.

But there's more

and it's good news.
Yesterday, 21 November 2011, in The Hague, the International Children's Peace Prize 2011 was awarded to Michaela Mycroft, age 17, from Cape Town, South Africa.
Chaeli was born with Cerebral Palsy. At the age of 9, she, her sister and friends started a project to raise money to buy a motorized wheelchair for Chaeli. In just seven weeks they had raised enough money so Chaeli decided to help other disabled children and  The Chaeli Campaign was born. This (now) professional organization helps children with disabilities, supplying equipment and therapy and defending the rights and acceptance of disabled children.
Reading the blurb about this remarkable young woman I love the description
"where others see limitations, she sees possibilities; with her positive attitude, she is an inspiration to many"
To find out more about some of the ones who don't just sit around tut-tutting but get off their butts and do, Google KidsRights, (a Dutch organization) and be inspired.

Suffer the little children........

Four young children died this week, walking in blistering heat to find food. Ages, 2, 6, 7 and 9 years old. I expect the young one was the first to go.
You know how it is, you're carrying a little too much weight but it's okay, the diet starts on Monday. By lunch time Monday you're really feeling peckish but you steadfastly wait until 1pm to have your Provitas and skimmed milk. By Thursday, you've had enough of this tough regime and slip back into the old ways.
Just imagine, that strict regime would feel like absolute luxury to someone who is starving. They had only a small bowl of porridge, the night before, and set off to search for their mother, granny or food.
How does it feel to starve to death? Thankfully I doubt anyone reading this will ever know.
We cried, we were outraged but will we do anything about it, probably not. Oh, we make our teddy bears, Christmas gift boxes and make certain that our old clothes go to those we know of who need them. We feel rather good about it. We recycle and care for our planet and yes, I think we're helping but, we're only scratching the surface.
A Hong Kong business man has set up a fund to help the impoverished people of the Northern Province, we can all contribute and hopefully it's going to benefit the ones it's intended for but, they're not the only ones. Drive the back roads of the Free State and be saddened by the extreme poverty there. Once the small towns had railways and busy roads keeping them going but "progress" robbed them and they are dying. It's not just here in South Africa, the extremes of lifestyle exist the world over, the old saying "The rich get richer and the poor get poorer" is achingly true but when will THEY do something about it?
But wait, someone threw a racial slur during a soccer match. By god, heads must roll! We'll all jump onto the bandwagon and condemn the man who dared utter those words. You see, posturing and blustering by politicians and celebs. means they don't actually have to do anything. They are seen to be caring but really, are they? Our fat cats seem more intent on buying trendy purple suits and building mansions than caring for the plight of their own.OMG the 12th  wife of the king of Swaziland has been kicked out! Twelve wives!!
I wonder what the food bill is per month in that household, a tad more than the folk in the Northern Cape will see in ten years, assuming they don't starve to death first!
Please say a prayer for those four children and millions like them who have starved to death because those who CAN do something are too preoccupied with status to notice their plight.

Hush, hush

My favourite T.V. programme is NCIS. They can take the sinister and flavour it with good humour. I presume it's true that all the American letters dislike and distrust one another. NCIS, CIA, FBI, OMG, LOL. Sibling rivalry. But, it's not just on T.V. My private life is affected by the same wierd need for secrecy.
We all need passwords, digitags, code numbers to allow us access to our own.
I receive an email and lo and behold, I can't open it because my adobe hut apparently has cracks and I have to upgrade to a better, more swanky one.
A statement arrives in my "in box" but I don't know what it's about because you see I have to download something that sounds like an Italian ice cream, vanilla with chocolate stripes - stracaccia I think. Or perhaps it's my brand of coffee that doesn't work, almost every day I'm offered a new and improved version. Can't they get it right first time?
I miss out on warbling frogs and squirrels on tightropes because my windows can't see the language they're presented in - some housewife I am.
Furthermore, when I sign up for something, the computer has the cheek to tell me my user name is taken.
Yikes! all the stuff that was delivered by the post office, safely is apparently at risk now on the big, wide web.
It doesn't end there, it seems people are becoming almost paranoid about their privacy, we're not all celebs you know. I've tried to make contact with a possible cousin, for the family tree, on FaceBook. clearly she thinks I'm a stalker, grooming her for sinister things. Yes, teach the kids about stranger danger but really, about 12 family members on FB with the same (unusual) surname would have to be a pretty elaborate plot. Get over yourself Connecticut.
So when the page I'm on has a message telling me that my browser isn't compatible with gobbleygook etc. I feel just like Jethro Gibbs when the geeks talk IT.

Monkey See, Monkey Do

On my way to work today I sang along to Deva Premal, the Gayatri Mantra, in Sanskrit, I know all the words and it leaves me with a great feeling of peace. But I have no English translation.
I love to watch the Russian or Japanese pop music fans, they sing along Karaoke style to songs whose words they don't understand but they enjoy them nonetheless. I believe the ABBA ladies knew no English and were taught the songs phonetically, gosh all that and the numerous key changes, they were indeed talented.
We learn so much in life by example.
For example, a child sees a parent throw the KFC wrapper out of the car window and, because mom and dad know EVERYTHING, the child assumes this is the thing to do. Likewise, dad gives mum a clip around the ear and we have a budding spouse beater growing up.
Kelly (number 5) lost a tooth and along with said tooth she put a thank-you note into her slipper for the tooth fairy. How polite! and one hopes, learned from her parents.
Raising kids without a handbook is a huge responsibility, look around and clearly some parents lost the plot but, many did a wonderful job and have given us good, honest, hardworking citizens.
Lead by example, not just for your children but for all of us. If a politician dips his hand too deep into the honey jar, how many will follow suit? Your favourite celeb sets up shelters for quake victims, please, go with the flow.
Let's try to be the example our world needs, like the young man in Pay It Forward, set the ball rolling and watch things go well.

New kid on the block

There's a new granny in the neighbourhood, I saw her out walking her (obligatory) small dog and appearing to be familiarising herself with the area.
How difficult it must be to reach a stage where you move into "the granny flat". Do you feel old? less in control? or is it a feeling of relief to be with loved ones.
My mother once pointed out that it's a sad time of life when you have to ride in the back of the car with the kids. No more front seat for you, you are no longer in control. My dad died 45 years ago today, it means that my mum is just a few months short of spending half of her life without him, her soul mate. She's been through it all, single mother, granny, great granny, granny flat and finally a lovely assisted living facility where she is very happy.
She talks about the ladies (for most of the residents are female) who have wonderful family visits and the ones who are forgotten and neglected. Not even the back seat of the car for them!
I wish our new kid all the very best that Edgemead has to offer, it may perhaps take a while for her to settle in but it's a very friendly area and there's nothing wrong with starting the road to old age here.

Growing up

I was stuck in a traffic jam this morning, most unusual because my route to work is against the traffic, I'm glad I don't have that every day. It got me to thinking (sorry Sandra) about my childhood, a sure sign that we're getting older.
I grew up in a small Welsh town and my parents didn't own a car, in fact as I recall there were only two cars in our street, the puddle jumper across the road and the black taxi owned by John James, a man with a most interesting vocabulary and a lovely black spaniel called Mickey James.
But I digress.
We walked to school and the shops and only took the train when visiting Manchester. Everyone walked or so it seemed unless they took the bus or train. The man from the Prudential rode a bicycle as did the District Nurse.
I don't recall any traffic jams.
Later we lived alongside the Chester Bypass and yet crossing the road was not a serious mission although when my dad bravely bought a silver Volkwagen (pronounced vokes wagon) they would sit in heavy traffic when visiting family in Rhyl or Colwyn Bay.
In the early days of our marriage, living in Pinelands, if I had a need to go to Claremont I would gather the brood, probably aged around 2 and 4, we would walk the half mile or so to the main road, catch a bus to Mowbray and then another to Claremont. It was nothing out of the ordinary but, the traffic was certainly getting heavier. (I wasn't, with all that walking).
Edgemead in the seventies had no bus service but we had splashed out and bought a bakkie (LDV) for Rowland and I had the use of the mean gold Cortina. I ran out of petrol three times, just couldn't learn!
 Our children either rode their bikes or walked to school, Fairbairn is about 5kms away. We all survived this healthy lifestyle. I remember a friend of Rowland's, he lived at the YMCA and walked everywhere, miles and miles.
Today, it's all about personal transport. From the parking boom on the roof of Canal Walk to my front door takes about 4 minutes by car, how could I waste the hour or so that it would take me on foot.
That's just it, we have to chase around far too much, our grandchildren have schedules that would make Barac Obama even greyer than he is now. It's rush to school, sport, dancing, music, art and for the grown-ups, rush to work, to the shops, to  home, rush around the house.
I don't believe there was any road rage when I was growing up, perhaps this generation needs a more relaxed pace, after all, the baby boomers created so much with, I think, far less stress.

The evolution of the trouser pocket

Once upon a time all a man needed when he went out was a hanky in his left pants pocket, his wallet - either in the right front or right rear pocket and, if he was fancy, a comb in his sock.His wallet contained only money and perhaps a condom as the devil hadn't yet invented credit cards.
What a happy fellow he was and, he was able to scoff at the ladies with their silly handbags that held everything except the kitchen sink.
Sadly most women still carry those small suitcases but, no matter the designer label, they can't compete with
THE MANBAG
What do they keep in there you may ask, as do I. Let me guess
His wallet, cellphone, Ipod, Ipad, Wii, Swiss army knife, Leatherman, lip ice (I'm clutching at straws here) and perhaps a change purse.
I see younger men walking through the shopping centres wearing backpacks. Are they perhaps due to embark on a safari? going to gym? or do they have to carry a laptop, just in case.
Well, I vote for the bumbag, it's reasonably compact and doesn't hurt your shoulder. It seems that we're becoming slaves to gadgets and even though the love of my life has a modest manbag which he rarely carries,  I guess he'd be happier with just the pants pocket.
And no, he doesn't have a comb in his sock.

Whatever

I played hookey today. I decided to join Rowland when he went out to do collections. It was really good, sitting in the car, driving around on a "work day". It's almost like meditation, you sit still and comfortable and allow your mind to wander, noticing things along the way.
Alongside the freeway, in a large grassy area is a pizza oven. It's been there for years, sitting, all alone, no advertising board near it. I often wonder, do the vagrants have Friday night pizza, is there some secret Italian Pizza Clan who come along at full moon and have pepperoni pizza?
whatever.
It's good to see all the renovations going on in and around Cape Town, old buildings being given a facelift, they must feel so good.
On the way out of town, walking along the shoulder of the highway towards us was a man pushing a wheel chair. The cushion still had that sitting indentation hhmmm. "So tell me Sir, where is your patient?"
Eish
We stopped off at Canal Walk, managed to find parking and even found time to glare at the 40 something woman and her two teenage daughters who had just parked the Merc in the "Elderly" parking bay. We don't even park there and we ARE elderly - or so they tell us.
Rushing through the centre I passed an underwear store - his and hers. In the window was a set for him, matching vest and briefs with a twirly design on the fabric. Seriously? Do you want your man to look like a 1920's wrestler?
whatever.
I've just been visited by friends, he is very ill but doing so well and she is ever strong and supportive. What a good way to end the working day and week, on a happy positive note.

The best laid plans

We'd been talking about it for ages, finally taking leave. Thanks to all the public holidays by taking three days off work we could have 11 glorious days to ourselves. Wake up in the morning at around 7.30, stretch and say "Hmm, what shall we do today?"
HAH!
Fate has a wicked sense of humour.
Days one to four, pleasant, 
Danielle and Kelly slept over on Saturday, Easter Tea, family and 90 garments to embroider for a customer. As they say in Oz "No worries Mate".
HAH!
Tuesday, much anticipated, the first official day off work, we planned a trip up the West Coast to Paternoster, lunch somewhere and we wanted to buy some local jams.
01.05, the hot water cylinder burst. It's situated just a couple of metres away from Rowland's Mom's bed, we heard the electricity trip, the burglar alarm went off and she stepped out into a minor bog.
The love of my life is very handy and in no time he had water turned off, mom placated and we were back asleep by 01.30.
Santam insurance were outstanding and by 11.30 two hard working young men had removed the old geyser (not me) and fitted a new one. There was, however, a gaping hole in the ceiling. No prob. number one son brought over a piece of rhino board, he and Rowland hammered it to the ceiling and, voila, almost as good as new. Who am I kidding, just as Mom was falling asleep the board fell down!
Wednesday, public holiday, did some cleaning. Thursday the ceiling guys came in, Friday the carpet people were there. We were feeling so sorry for ourselves by then we went to buy an IPad2, do I really have to tell you they were completely sold out, everywhere. Wha, wha, their loss, we changed our minds and bought a fireplace instead. Who says retail therapy doesn't work?
Saturday morning the love of my life started embroidering some caps, of course the embroidery machine broke. Sob. He's nothing if not versatile and though it took about three hours, he (my Hero) repaired the machine.
Sunday morning, free at last, we went to Green Point and had outstanding coffee and croissant at Giovanni's, we'd been home for around an hour when I felt as if someone had laid into me with a hand made selection of sledge hammers. My thoat was sore, nose bunged up, running a temperature and with aches in every joint. I should point out that I haven't had a cold for some 15 or so years.
I took Daisy to have her nails clipped and popped into the only pharmacy I could find in that rotten part of town, I described my symptoms to the "pharmacist",  sore throat, aching body, headache and shortness of breath and really bunged up nose, thinking that I could have a bit more than Panado and Strepsils. He indicated that I was either (I promise this is true) having a mild .heart attack or an anxiety attack!!
I went home. got into bed and slept for more or less 22 hours. Dear sweet Rowland made toast soldiers with Bovril and looked in on me. Today I feel much better, why wouldn't I? we're back at work tomorrow.

Ooops

Silly me. As my loved one pointed out, Nokia make cellphones and Nikon make cameras. What can I say?

Above average?

I happened upon a list of the top companies in the world, I think it's based on their share value.  I've worked out that it's not just those with money who make a brand, the rest of us contribute to the enormous earnings of the big boys.
Here they are, from number one to number ten.
It seems your average family will drink COCA COLA, they'll have at least one MICROSOFT computer and perhaps something from IBM. Their appliances will be made by GE ( I believe once known as General Electric) and those computers the kids use will light up with the words INTEL inside.
The family camera will be a NOKIA and no doubt mum will drive a TOYOTA. Toys, clothes, funfair visits, movies and books will revolve around DISNEY and after a visit to the theme park they'll fill up on MACDONALDS before getting into dad's MERCEDES.
Happily I've also heard of the next ten and it seems a lot of folk bank with CITI and MARLBOROUGH man will no doubt have a few HEWLETT PACKARD appliances in the office. She'll use her AMERICAN EXPRESS card to shop and might even try to use it to buy a BMW for her dad. Her dad still uses a GILLETTE razor and her mum would love to own just one item from LOUIS VUITTON.
The neighbours are more interested in CISCO computers but of course, they drive a HONDA and have a SAMSUNG big screen TV.
Are we all totally predicatable? I know that in our home (and the driveway) we have ten of those products and we're just poor church mice.
P.S. Yes, one is a Louis Vuitton:)

Spiffy

What makes a spiffy dresser? I suppose it's in the eye of the beholder but to me, men can be spiffy, not women. Ladies are elegant, chic, tarty, whatever, but never spiffy.
Men in Speedos are not spiffy but a gentleman in a tuxedo, well, Sigh.
Today I saw a spiffy man, or perhaps his outfit was just plain Sharp. He was clearly someone with next to no income and yet, he carried off the ankle length (fake) fur coat to perfection, striding through the shopping centre like the emperor in his new clothes.
There's a beautiful young man I see at another centre, he wears skinny jeans, stilettos and usually a slim fitting blouse. His long dark hair in a ponytail he defies anyone to disapprove.
Liberace was not spiffy, nor was Sir Elton.
I do believe it's an inborn trait, you either have it or you don't. I remember years ago a short, fat, plain faced American politician who apparently could charm the pants off any lady he met yet, he looked like the kid the school bully would pick on.
I believe it's inner confidence and perhaps this.
Women rarely judge a man by his looks alone. For some, it's the eyes, the sense of humour, mannerisms, we
all have different tastes so, perhaps deep down, a man knows that he can more than get by even if he looks like the back end of a barn, as long as he's spiffy.

Where is the Love?

In Japan apparently. Timothy pointed out that since the earthquake and tsunami we've heard no reports of looting, rioting, attacks on the innocent. Just stories of people helping one another, accepting that life goes on and getting on with it. Men going in to repair a nuclear reactor, for heavens sake, knowing they may not come out alive. Heroes!!
I listened to a lady in the US lamenting the fact that General Motors spares may start to run out??? BECAUSE A LOT OF THEM ARE MADE IN JAPAN.
 Honda spares, understandable but GM??
Why is it that so many western countries have allowed local industry to fail? Surely there's at least a small sense of achievement to be had in knowing that you've produced an item your country can be proud of. Even, your area. I called to ask about a repair to my (once again) broken dish washer and was patched through to a call center in Johannesburg. It may as well have been Russia for all the knowledge the guy had about my area, only 3 kilometres from the repair shop I might add. Why? Why must a local workforce be sidestepped? Needless to say I found a local man to repair my dishwasher.
Please, wherever you may be, love your local music, local radio station. Support your community, neigbours and local workforce.
Who knows, one day we may be in the same situation as Japan, I'd like to think we can handle it in just such an adult fashion.

Gently does it

When I get home from work there are various tasks to be carried out, most of them guaranteed to make me feel relaxed.
Walking the dog. Daisy and I go once around the block, exactly 500metres, just fine for a couple of old ladies after a busy day. (in her case busy doing nothing). That fills my lungs with fresh air and loosens the muscles that've been squashed up on an office chair all day.
Other boring housework related stuff, cleaning, ironing, laundry, etc. - very BORING.
Watering the garden - so soothing, I may have mentioned before that it's like a gentle meditation, just me and nature. Aah!
Then it's time to cook. I really enjoy that part of the evening.
Last night we were having fish fingers and chips. Nothing pretentious in our house. It turned out I only had baby potatoes and although they do indeed make fine chips I wasn't in the mood to peel those tiny things.
I set the potatoes to cooking and prepared my veg. Carrots cut into chubby matchsticks and green beans, topped and tailed and cut to the same size. Popped four baby onions into the water with the potatoes, just to soften up and when ready, left everything to drain. Into a roasting pan with some olive oil and garlic, I squished the potatoes gently so that they broke open and just for  good measure popped in a couple of knobs of butter.
In to the small oven and later, the fish fingers were added to the same dish to cook. Cooked the carrots and beans on top of the stove and let them steam themselves to keep warm. It was a very simple but delicious meal and I so enjoyed the preparation. That's why I don't buy those packs of ready prepared veg, I would miss out on the relaxation and frozen veg just don't do it for me.
After dinner I watched a Jamie Oliver programme, he was in Italy and at one point made Minestroni Soup. It was outstanding. He strolled through a veg. garden and collected onions, garlic, carrots, peas, kale, lettuce, celery, courgettes and the flowers, just think of it and it was most probably in there. He took the left over end of a piece of pancetta, put that into the pot and threw in some tiny noodles. (Thinks "I'll have to see if I can get the tail end of something at Giovanni's this weekend"). As the soup simmered gently for abour 20 minutes he made a quick basil pesto and dolloped it on top of his bowl of soup. Yummy.
It's really all about chilling at the end of the day. I often wished that I enjoyed red wine so that I could sip it as I cooked and chatted wittily with my partner. Well, perhaps red wine's overrated but my partner isn't.
So, try to find your chill factor, after all, there's more to life than work, work, work.

and you call yourself a reporter!

Qualifications being so important today I'm pretty certain some sort of degree is required if you want to be a journalist. So where did these three study?
"He also assaulted a second officer who arrived on the scene and fled, but was found later in the bushes near his abandoned car."
"If  xyz  is not wrapped over the knuckles now ........."
"A political analyst has cautioned that such wreckless statements may just .........."

And they want to lower standards in the schools.

Amber Theodore Stanton

Amber strolled into our lives one day almost ten years ago. A big fluffy orange cat. We tried to check the rear end, it seemed somewhat rude but after a brief peek we decided Amber was indeed a girl. An intensive search was carried out for the owners, the usual door to door, notices at the vet etc. We eventually decided that some despicable person had dumped this adorable cat because she was no longer wanted. Scoundrels!!
Judging her age to be about 6 or 7 she fitted in well with our other cats and she and Daisy became close friends as they were the "newbies" in the house.
Amber would wake Rowland every morning with gentle nudges and purrs, tender bites and, if he was sleeping too well, harder ones.
She was my Reiki companion. Many an unsuspecting soul would be lying, eyes closed on the Reiki bed only to have a cat land on their stomach, she wanted some of the action. Amber sat in on Reiki classes when I was sharing my knowledge with others, the perfect model when I was demonstrating her chakra points. This was the one who sat on my lap while I meditated and followed ma around the house at weekends.
What a treasure and we were blessed to have her share her life with us.
Last week Amber was unwell, Saturday she was at the vet and Sunday she was put to sleep.
During our visit we discovered that she was in fact a he, adding credence to my friends communication with him. She was told that this cat had lived in (probably) Constantia and his name was Theodore.
Those mean owners just don't know what they gave up.
I've cried a million tears and no doubt will cry a million more, but, I know that Amber Theodore is happy and well with the cats who've gone before - Tabatha, Tony, Tao, Tai-Lu, Emily, Muffin, Gunner, Rosina and our two sweet dogs, Snoopy and Miz Emmy. This will be the first time, since we moved into our house in 1972, that our home is without a cat. Not good enough I say so we'll wait for the next house guest to come our way.
Love you Amber :)

Party Poopers

We have a Sunday evening, reveal all, show on T.V.. It tends to put a damper on the weekend and while we're not ostriches, I take exception to their motto "You have the right to know". Frankly I don't believe we always have the right to know, some things should be kept secret.
I'm keeping an open mind on the whole Wikileaks saga, where do you draw the line? some revelations are good for us, others may put us in danger. What do I know?
However, in the news recently, the actual original recipe for Coca Cola. Seriously! Next I suppose it'll be the secret seven herbs and spices or maybe the recipe for Britny's latest perfume.
It's not always fair to reveal all, after all the burlesque dancers fully understand the sense of mystery that's so tittilating.
So, why are we to have a T.V. programme revealing how the best magic tricks are done. How to make a tank disappear, how to get out of a giant vat of water while bound with chains and weighted down by three African elephants. (don't try this at home kids).
I don't want to know. I understand that I have the right not to watch and someone else has the right to tune in. I just don't understand why anyone wants to break the spell. It's magic folks, please don't burst the bubble.

Yesterday, today and tomorrow

Yesterday the temperature in Parow was 32c, I walked outside and the heat was like a warm blanket, wrapping itself gently around me and giving a cosy safe feeling.
Today the temperature is around 33c but the humidity is really high. I walk outside and it's like stepping into a Turkish bath (yes, I have been to one). Skin with a damp glow and hair sticking to the back of the neck.
And tomorrow?

That's life

When I was young my mother would recite
"There was a little girl, she had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good, she was very, very good
But, when she was bad she was horrid"
I think that about sums up life in general.
We have so many friends and acquaintances who are going through rough times. Be it health, finance, family ties, work or whatever I'm sure that some days they wonder when it's all going to end.
I also see the resilience of some of these folk, the "get on regardless" attitude, it's good.
This morning, skimming through "snips & snails" I came across a blog on her list - julieliveshere. I read the most amazing open letter to the person who has her wallet, give yourself a treat and read it. I will certainly be checking in on her  posts when I can.
So if it's been  a rough start to the year, just heed the words of the great Mr Sinatra
"Each time I find myself, flat on my face,
I pick myself up and get back in the race."
That's Life, I hope it's a good one.

How the weekend flies

Never mind the fact that we're heading for Feb. at an alarming rate, the weekends go by in the flash of an eye.
We spent most of this one rearranging the furniture in our house. First though we went to a few places to find a low cupboard - I expect there's a fancy name for it - to hold the new TV (so kindly donated by Timothy and Marleze).
We saw 3 really stunning ones at a sort of Indonesian import place, all to our liking and not overpriced.
On Saturday, once "he who works the occasional Saturday" arrived home we went to Green Point. First stop Giovanni's to buy some parmesan, cold meats and bread.
Then on to a store I shan't name because their prices are so over the top that I get the giggles when I look at the tags. The only table/cupboard we vaguely like was on the wrong side of R7000, too steep for us.
What a contrast seeing the  men lining up outside the homeless shelter close by.
Final stop, Tafelburg, they sell a nice range of middle of the road home furnishing and usually come in cheaper than most on their appliances. Hawk-eye spotted the ideal unit, a simple, low counter, 1400cms wide and with just one shelf, simple and really nice. Still, I wouldn't mind something from Ikea.
But you see, this is how we make work for ourselves.All that moving, emptying and the repacking of cupboards. Fortunately Danielle and Kelly dove in and packed my knick-knacks into the cupboard, a huge time-saver.
Talking of time savers, Sara-Jane finished the Meccano clock she and Grandpa were building. I mention the two of them but in truth Sara-Jane did most of the work, Grandpa admitted defeat and left her to finish the job. I may put it away as her wedding present - ho ho ho.
Best of all was having enough space elsewhere to put the record player back on top of the sound system.
It's abour 30 years old I suppose, but it still works like a dream. I don't think the term "built in obsolescence" had been invented back then.
What a treat, going through the LPs (ask your mum).
The grandchildren all came to see how it worked, the first LP was Michael Jackson, 1971, he looked to be about 14. They were suitably impressed.
But Granny had much more fun after they left, music brings back so many memories and let me tell you, vinyl sounds just great.
I put on one of my old favourites, a compilation disc called "All this and World War 2" and sifted through the rest.
What appeared to be the complete Bob Marley and Peter Tosh collection, Creedence Clearwater Revival, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Niel Diamond, Francois Hardy (remember her?).
The list is endless, from the Beatles and Queen to the 1812 Overture. So much more to listen to.
I sent the dust bunnies off to find a new home and hopefully by the end of the week order will be restored in our house.

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Free Range Friday

Many of us are well and truly into Meat Free Monday, it just seems part of our normal lifestyle by now.
However, let's face it, we're not all ready to become vegetarians. Some would say Never, others, like myself, are sort of working towards it.
I see the day when I won't eat meat at all, I don't imagine I'll go vegan but certainly meat free. I do count chicken as meat.
As you no doubt know, none of the takeaways, restaurants etc. use free range chicken, this means that I don't buy chicken sandwiches and sadly have to have a Thai Chicken Sandwich on wholewheat with no chicken. Still yummy.
So here it is. On a Friday, if you're eating meat, make sure it's free range. I do have a chuckle picturing battery sheep, a la Glen Larson,  but apparently it's not all "free range" who knows? Some places already sell free range egg sandwiches so just check up. If you think the beef in your burger is suspect, order something else, likewise the rack of lamb at the fancy restaurant.
My theory is that if we don't buy none-free range every Friday it may lead to the production of less non-free range and the promotion of free range. Quite a mouthful I know and not quite what PETA have in mind.
Baby steps.

Mensa Invitational

Apparently The Washington Post's Mensa Invitational invites readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting or changing one letter and, supplying a new definition.
The list is long and extremely funny, here are a few of my favourites
Ignoranus : A person who's both stupid and an asshole (see this weeks blog)
Karmageddon : It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.
Arachnoleptic Fit : The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.
The Washington Post also has a contest in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words, e.g.
Coffee : The person upon whom one coughs
Flabbergasted : Appalled by discovering how much weight one has gained
Flatulence : Emergency vehicle that picks up someone who has been run over by a steamroller
Rectitude : The formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.
Pokemon : A Rastafarian proctologist.
Have a laughter filled weekend xx

just a few words

"It is amazing how much people can get done if they do not worry about who gets the credit" -
Sandra Swinney

Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

I was in my fave store yesterday buying a rather nice tshirt. Standing at the counter, waiting to pay I and the lady next to me, heard a loud voice coming from our right. You know how it is, you all pretend that you can't hear the commotion but this guy was something else.
"I'm the nation wide manager for Pigs Bottom Clothing, you don't speak to me like that!!!"
We have no idea what "she" said but each time she tried to speak he said
"don't talk" and then for good measure he repeated it in what I think was supposed to be Xhosa. What would I know, I'm not a nationwide manager.
"I want to talk to Betty Bulemia" "Now! I know she's in the store tell her I'm here"
"Don't talk"
and so it went on, stupid man, he's probably had the job since 02 Jan 2011.
My young assistant took my card and said
"cheque or savings?"
"savings" I replied,
she swiped the card and said
"cheque or savings?" to which I replied
"you have to multitask, listen to him with your left ear and listen to me with your right"
That was when the lady standing next to me snorted in amusement.
I could complain to big mouth's boss but lets face it, he won't be working for Pig's Bum for much longer with that attitude. He reminded me of the tea advert where the man in a suit says to the airline lady
"Do you know who I am?" so she broadcasts an appeal "Does anyone one know this lost man?"
What an ass.

The best laid plans..........

Finally, the weekend arrived for the PiratesoftheCaribbeanathon. Three movies and lots of fun with the six grandchildren. However, once they arrived we realised that the PG ratings of 10, 10 and 13 should be observed. I know they're only guidlines but still. So, by democratic vote (it's not really democratic when the big ones have a louder say) they decided to start with "The Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy" not a bad choice, enjoyed by all but Jeremy (7) who thought it was silly.
Dinner was chicken drumsticks, potato wedges and corn on the cob. I was in disgrace for not providing chocolate mousse for dessert, even though I'd made REAL popcorn with a choice of buuter or salt! I did, however, serve Shirley Temples which I think I enjoy more than they do.
Grandpa was a star, bravely staying up to the end. In the lounge (room) we had Kelly's two man tent (for her and Olivia) and Jeremy's one man tent so they slept there, Sara-Jane and Danielle slept in the guest room and Jessica had to go home just after ten in order to be up at 4.30 am to go to ice skating practice.
Movie number two was Toy Story 3. We thoroughly enjoyed it, I cried at the end and look forward to seeing it again. No wonder it was the highest grossing movie in the world for 2010! Jeremy and I shared a seat so I had someone to cuddle during the scary bits.
The fact that we were all in bed by 11pm doesn't mean all was quiet. At around midnight Sara-Jane sent an SMS to Olivia  to tell them to be quiet. You've gotta love modern technology.
Sunday am was coffee in bed (Grandpa is so good) for Granny and once the troops were organised we had a cereal, juice, bacon, egg and toast breakfast. Jessica was dropped off from skating to join us and they all
watched The Princess Bride. It's such a fun movie, I love it!
Timothy and Marleze invited us to lucnch so we squashed the eight of us into the Honda (thank goodness for spacy cars) and headed south. Timothy cooks a mean steak (I don't eat it, sorry) and Marleze a superb mushroom sauce. As they said, they don't need to visit a steakhouse any more.
Granny and Grandpa were home by 4.30, all children safely fetched or delivered. What a good time.
Sion had directed us to UTube for some Big Bang Theory interviews at Comic.Com 2010. Will Wheeton was the interviewer and it was so good for the fans. Really my favourite comedy.
All in all a very good weekend, it's  a pity we didn't get to watch Captain Jack Sparrow but, there's always next time.

What about the workers!!

Every January I'm amazed by the usual nonsense. Children not enrolled in school, teachers forgetting to go to work and supplies not ordered. Does nothing change?
Actually, yes, no news of GM this season. even though some of the minstrels played up as ever.
The thing that's really getting to me though is this " poor me" attitude shown by kids who can't go to 'varsity.
In my opinion it's about time the whole world realised that you're not an idiot if you only have a secondary education. Not everyone needs a degree. Especially one of those no name brands that just says you're a bachelor.
There's no shame in having a regular job. Not everyone can be a nutty professor, aviation designer, brain surgeon or bank teller. Yes, bank teller! I'm told the banks are only hiring people with degrees. I hope that's not true.
There's no shame in working as a shop assistant.
There's no shame in being the best nurse aide in the whole world, showing compassion to all you meet.
There's no shame in being a radio announcer.
There's no shame in being a brick layer, mechanic, petrol attendant, ballet dancer, violinist, bus driver, tour guide, waiter, hotel room cleaner, desk clerk.
Need I go on?
We already have a world with too many chiefs and not enough indians, how would we cope without those who provide what are considered by some to be menial services.
Instead of bankrupting parents, get out into the (very tough) job market and sample what life has to offer. Earn some money and be the first of your friends to buy a car, a house if you're lucky and travel.

O M G

What is happening in this beautiful world. The floods in Queensland are horrific and ongoing. The fires outside Perth, the alleged work of arsonists, have shattered the lives of so many.
There's talk of strikes in the UK to disrupt the latest Royal Wedding, such petty nastiness.
Where is the love?
So please, say a little prayer, send some Reiki healing or whatever is your thing.
I believe our fragile world and her people need some tender, loving care.

The lame, the halt and the blind

My route too and from work is usually the same. The way home at the end of the day is uphill. If I was a man I'd no doubt be able to tell the incline, they seem to know such things, suffice to say, it's steep.
On the first section, as I drive up the road, coming toward me on the left is a gentleman, probably around my age. He has only one leg and walks with crutches. I've seen him, rain or shine, for about the last twenty years and presumably he's had the same job in all that time. It must be tough going up-hill to work in the morning. I often wonder if he's going to catch a train or if he lives in the home around the corner, peopled by mostly paraplegics who I believe, go out to work and care for themselves.
I see one of the resident ladies late afternoon, on her way home from work in her speedy wheelchair, racy and low slung.
Continuing up the street, heading for home on the righthand side of the road are the blind man and his (presumably) work mate. He's a big man and the two of them march down the road at a pretty hectic pace, all the while looking happy to be on their way.
On up to the main road, a left turn and then at the right turn, the really, really steep hill.
A few years back a group of young boys (I promise, only boys would do this) would leap on to their skateboards at the top of the hill, careen the 500 or so metres to the main road, a quick glance to each side and another 700 or so metres to the next big intersection. I'm guessing they're the reason the council put in two huge speed bumps - sleeping policemen.
The ladies who walk down this hill on their way home from work come in all shapes and sizes. Most of them appear to have had a busy day and from work to public transport is probably around 3 kms, no joke when it's your daily commute.
Yesterday in the scorching heat (38c) a rather plump lady was speeding down the pavement. You know how it is on an incline, you sort of pick up speed the further you go. She had a piece of kitchen paper that she was holding to her forehead. I think it was wet when she left work but by now it was bone dry and crumpled but still she held it tightly.
I do admire these folk. I don't suppose they view their lives as anything special but they seem to cope rather well, on the outside, with adversity and what life has thrown their way. I hope each of them has at least one person waiting to welcome them when they walk in the door after a busy day, they deserve it.

All things considered

It was a good festive season. Christmas Day with the family was so superb. The Home Spa weekend was total relaxation with just one blip on the screen.
We settled down Christmas Day at around 8.30 pm to watch the traditional movie, I opened the cupboard and horror of horrors, Love Actually was actually not there. Oh No! I searched the house and couldn't find the DVD. Clearly someone borrowed the disc and didn't return it, beast!
Instead we watched The Soloist. Fate just has a way of speaking to us. In the midst of our good fortune we're reminded of the misfortune of others. It's a darned good movie, highly recommended.
We worked the days between Christmas and New Year but in that time I was lucky enough to speak to my mum, sister, brother, niece and my cousin in the U.K. Bonus time for me.
I was shopping in Woolies and I heard a tiny voice call my name, I must be imagining it. Again a tiny "Louise", I turned and there stood the famous blogger Purple Ronnie who I hadn't seen since her first pregnancy. What a lovely surprise and how good to catch up, no matter how briefly.
On New Year's day we took a drive. It was raining but that didn't deter us, I packed a picnic as promised and we set off for Simon's Town. I was so nice to see the Peninsula wearing a soft coat of rain, We bought some calamari and chips and parked outside the Scratch Patch to eat. I enjoyed snoek pate, the much anticipated aubergine cheese spread and my favourite Wheatsworth crackers. We had strawberries, fruit cake etc. Nice.
I went into the Scratch Patch to buy some Red Jasper for the workshop and of course came out with more than that, one stone being Peacock Chrystopyrite, for me. I don't take my purse when I enter that den of temptation, just a couple of notes in my pocket.
We drove along Chapman's Peak road, through Hout Bay and finally into Sea Point. It's always like a visit to another time, families walking along the promenade and a general sense of wellbeing. Through the Waterfront and finally on to the highway to head for home. My old gripe once again, we could have bought any number of new or used cars that day but had to park on the roof of Canal Walk to go and buy Marcelle's frozen joghurt in the shopping centre. Sad!
I had been mumbleing on about the cad who had our movie so I had one last search and there it was, behind my belly dance DVDs alongside five other titles I'd forgotten about (really, how could I forget Chocolat?). The end to a perfect day!
Finally, Kelly's duvet cover is finished, we were embroidering fairies on the front but (no complaints) were so busy with other people's embroidery that we kept putting hers to one side. I'll reattach Danielle's unicorns eye this week and we'll be slightly ahead with our many home tasks.
I'm listening to Cat Stevens in the car, music is so evocative. I always picture Sumayah who I met when we were taking our Reiki 1 classes, she was so surprised that I knew Yusuf Islam. She's such a good soul. My favourite is Father & Son, I think that track is worn out on the CD. Whenever I listen to Eric Clapton Unplugged I immediately picture our old friend Steve who died far too soon, I can see him strolling into the room, playing guitar along with the CD.
Frank Sinatra, well, I think of my mum of course, his biggest fan, I refer to him as my godfather. It's not just trumpet music that reminds me of my dad, Rowland and I often listen to something on the radio and agree that he would have like it and how excited he would have been about modern music. I can't hear the name Kim Wilde without reliving the nightmare of Sion and Timothy playing Checkered Love on their tape decks at the same time but with a slight time lag between the two. Aagh.
Finally, the New Years Honours List. When will Richard Curtis get the nod, his movies are like watching a little piece of British history.
Happy New Year to each and every one of you. I feel it's going to be a good one.