Rowland and Louise's most excellent holiday

We had a wonderful time! Seven days in Perth, visiting my mum to help celebrate her 90th birthday. Mummy lives in a wonderful place `Moline House where she's really well cared for while having any freedom she would like (I'd guess male guests after lights-out would be a no-no). We stayed with my brother Martin and his lovely daughters, Ella and Gina and were also entertained by my sister Jane and her husband Bruce. Jane lent us her funky Volkswagen which was really good, it meant we didn't have to ask for a lift all the time. We visited the fairy shop in Freemantle, I tried to sneak into the special fairy room but I think I'm too tall. Another day we were taken to York, a small town about an hour or so outside Perth, I had one of the best lunches I've had in many a year. As you know, I was indeed "born to shop" and went into a sweet habby store where lo and behold, the owner had two embroidery machines, Brothers just like ours and so I had a lovely embroidery chat and bought a twirly glizzy scarf. YOU CAN NEVER HAVE TOO MANY SCARVES OR SHAWLS Singapore is just as much fun as ever. Rowland rode The Singapore Flyer, a ferris wheel even higher than The London Eye. I was too chicken, I'm not shy to own up, heights give me the creeps. There was a huge mix up with our hotel accomodation, first we weren't booked in for early arrival (7a.m.) which didn't matter really as the hotel had double booked not only our room but I believe around 15 in total. We were farmed out to the hotel across the road after I was (unforgivably) rude and given a room on the tenth floor, windows making up the entire outside wall, ceiling to floor. I almost threw up and was forced to be rude once again. We were moved to the fourth floor, a pleasant room leading out to the pool deck. The kid in both of us loved Universal Studios and we had photos taken with all the movie characters and bought just a few souveniers. I had two other Singapore wishes Victorias Secret - done Jimmy Choo - done No bras for sale at the VS shop and no photos allowed when I tried on a fabulous pair of shoes, a mere S$1100.00 (that's R6000) but no worries, I was happy. We went to the Titanic Exhibit at one of the museums, what a moving display, if it comes to a town near you I urge you to pay a visit. The big expense jaw dropper was cupcakes at a swanky tea room for a mere S$12 each, that's R72 each folks! The best take aways, a small place at the La Salle Art Centre - Fifteen Minutes, good food, friendly staff and a knock out Frappe Before we knew it we were on our way home. Singapore Airlines just can't be faulted. Changi Airport is huge and so efficient and good old Cape Town International Airport doesn't miss a beat. Friendly, efficient and a pleasure to pass through. I love Cape Town. There's just no place like home. Family, Daisy, kittens, Merlin, we want for nothing more..

If you love something, set it free

Well, we really love Merlin but, to be safe, we clip his wings so that he won't be tempted to leave the safety of the office and fly into a lathe or passing motor car. As we're going on holiday soon (Yay, smiles and cheers)  I'd been extending the due date for wing clipping. While we're away visiting family Merlin will be staying with his brother Phoenix and a weird hyperactive bird, I forget his name but I call him Cardinal.
After two exciting episodes of flying across the office and scaring the crunchies out of his "parents" I realised ( with much prodding from the love of my life) that the time had come to visit the vet and have those wings disabled.
We were the only ones there and went straight through to the surgery, I put the cage on to the operating table, Merlin eyed the vet and the scissors and thought "Aye,aye".
As I opened the cage door, with a deep breath and a birdy Tally Ho Merlin flew out of the cage, out of the surgery, across the waiting room and out of the door.
Yikes Rowland's going to kill me!
I don't wear heels every day but wouldn't you know, this was one of those days. It's amazing how fast you can run in them..
Merlin flew across the road and then made a graceful arc, returning to our side and gently landing on the driveway a few doors down.  I put my hand down, he hopped on and then buried his head into my chest. He has a little sound he makes, a sort of "Choo,choo" which basically means "Shit, did you see that?", he didn't say a word. I think it was a mixture of exhileration and fear, I imagine a bungi jump leaves you feeling that way, "Wow, amazing but I'll never do it again"
When we walked back inside Merlin wouldn't let go of my blouse, I was his Terra Firma and he wasn't leaving again.
So, wings are clipped, nails trimmed and Merlin is feeling quite manly after almost soaring up into the clouds.What a tale he'll have to tell when he goes visiting. I'm just happy the love of my life didn't have to kill me.

Man-code

I believe I'm close to cracking the enigma of "man-speak". It's taken time and a lot of dedication but so far I believe I can understand just a handful (or would that be mouthful?) of phrases.
Husband Speak should not be confused with Man Speak as each husband has a different dialect, not all grunts sound the same and endearments differ. In my case, the love of my life has evolved a way of saying yes, no and maybe as one word that pops out at well timed intervals during my conversation.
Love that guy!

Man Speak is such things as
"Sorry I can't make it on Wednesday, I'll be on a (golf) course"
"Saturday's out, I'll be at a (car race) meeting all day".
"Mr Smith is unavailable for a week as he has to fly to New Zealand to attend a very important (rugby) conference".
I wonder if there's such a thing as Woman Speak? Nothing comes to mind :-)

Purpose

I'm at an age when many of my contempories are retiring, either from work or life. We've been "in business" for almost 28 years and so many of the faceless people I interact with over the 'phone are now choosing to retire or being forced to as their employer doesn't wany anyone over 62 or so on the books.
Attitudes differ. One lady, 64 years of age, is so excited at the prospect of staying at home after so many years in her job that she loves."I'm going to spend a month cleaning and fixing up my home (sheesh, it would take me much more than a month) and then she has a new project lined up.
The other, a gentleman, about 63 I believe, knows that next year he'll be "asked" to leave the job he's had for almost 30 years. He has no plans, no idea of the future and is already feeling depressed.
You have to have a purpose in life else why wake up in the morning. For some it's the freedom to travel, cook, learn a new craft, revamp the house, whatever but it's the very act of planning for the future, looking forward to something new that keeps us on an even keel.
I would chat to a fun old guy, he was about 70, always refered to Rowland as The Captain, his bosses felt they wanted to project a younger image so told him to leave. I spoke to him a few months later and it was as if his body had been taken over by misery, looking for company.
"What do you do with your days?" I asked
"Nothing" was the sad reply, "my wife leaves for work, I go to buy the newspaper and that's it!" So sad. Happily after a year or so he has a new lease on life, a purpose, whatever it may be.
What troubles me is that so many young school leavers seem to be the same. No idea what to do with their lives, no argument there, after all how can you know if you haven't tested the waters? but, no desire to find out. Like my neighbours son who so enjoyed his gap year doing absolutely nothing that he's decided to take another, a sort of  course in "layabout".
We had the TV on in the background yesterday afternoon while we worked, sorry if I'm about to offend anyone but after listening to half an hour of American Idol or something I felt sorry for the folk who have no purpose in life other than to watch "reality" TV. Really? There are great movies to be watched, travel programmes, cooking, animal life, history, the list goes on but you must be sad if your only purpose is to watch a few fat brides dis. their friends.
Please take each day as a gift and enjoy choosing how to spend it purposefully.

A Tale of Two Kitties

It was the best of times, it was the - sorry, wrong tale.
On 21 December,  a shoe box containing four kittens, barely five weeks old, was dumped in a driveway. No judgement. Our friend rang Rowland as she knew we were needing a cat, our home being without one for the first time in about 40 years. .
I was sent to choose. A foolish idea. Three boys and a girl, not being at all sexist I declared that I only wanted a female, boys can be naughty you know. She gave a tiny meeow and snuggled in when I lifted her out of the (copy paper ) box.
"O.K. we would love to give this sweet thing a good home, I'll be going now".
Oh but, "just look at that sweet face, such big eyes, so adorable"
Which is why we have two kittens, Alice and Tom and they are so gosh darned cute.
You don't just "get" a cat, well we don't anyway. Off to the vet we went for a check up, deworming and de fleaing, a basket, two free sample sets of kitten food, kitty litter and I was on my way.
For the first three days our new babies came to work with us, we made a tiny playroom for them and a discreet area to hold the sandbox. After eating I would pop each one into the box, scratch the paws through the sand to send the right message and so far we have two very well behaved children.
What a joy to watch, it's rather like having new babies but not nearly as much work. The timing is right, the (human) children are all grown up (and some), the grandchildren are wonderful but it's kinda nice to watch babies grow up once again.
It's an education in observation, Alice and Tom started out in one tiny area of the house, not locked in by us but restricted to what they were able to cope with at the time, slowly the horizons became bigger, currently they're at the stage where they bravely play outside in the garden but will still come charging inside to use the sandbox. Sweetypies.
We're not the only ones fascinated by these tiny bundles, Daisy and Zoe couldn't believe their eyes when two fluffy toys were dumped on the floor, Zoe ( a Yorkie) followed silently and still sneaks in to see if they're still around. Daisy (Spaniel) seems to have shed a couple of years and allows them to walk between her front legs, rubbing up as cats do. She's showing amazing restraint where the food bowls are concerned, cleaning our (the sadly deceased) Amber's bowl was one of her fun things to do. I'm pretty certain Merlin thinks the kittens are wind-up toys, boy is he in for a shock.
At food time I find the two of them sitting patiently in the empty spot where the food bowls should be, play time after eating and then its time to snuggle the humans, purr as loudly as possible and just relax.
Thanks to the person who felt she had to dump those babies, the other two kittens found homes the same day and we'll all be having our companions spayed (no, not the human ones) as soon as we can.
So here's to Alice and Tom, new companions for a new year, I hope they enjoy 2012 as much as we intend to and I hope that you and yours have an outstanding year, happy, healthy and if it should be so, wealthy and wise..

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.