Next step



 I have been packing all day, with a wonderful energy and excitement for what lies ahead.
I move on the 1st October!

One never stays in the same place. Whether you like it or not you grow and move forward. To look ahead must become a habit. Sometimes to look behind at oldlife makes me sad, but newlife memories are funny and I can only shake my head.

I cried the first time I used a box colour on my hair. I was devastated.
I was scared to fall asleep in my flat alone and kept peering through the curtains into the tiny garden, when I did sleep I had nighmares.
I got lost driving to Brooklyn and I cried.
I sang uplifting songs all the way to Jhb when I got a job as a junior web developer, and cried all the way home.
I was ashamed to sit at the uif offices when I was retrenched a year later.
I felt guilt and shame the first time I dated a very sweet man, after being monogomous for 26 years.
I was self-conscious of my body and felt fat and old.
I missed my botox and facials, and I missed my boat.
I felt frustrated that I had to vaccuum and clean my own flat, I needed my housekeeper.
I laughed and cried when I realise that I'd had the shortest career as the oldest junior web developer in probably the whole country.
I cringed when my neighbour, who is old enough to be my child, repremanded me about parking in his spot.

but
Yesterday I laughed when someone put a sign on my car......"do not park so selfishly again!" Ok so I had parked over two parkings because it was the only shade. I left the sign on my windscreen all day and giggled to myself as I watched it flutterring in the wind.
I'm happy and free and never harbour guilt.
Although I've put on weight this year I feel beautiful and competent.

I am liberated.
I am grateful for the lessons and my gps.
Now I'll only look back to shake my head and laugh.

oh....and I bought another power tool!

Naughty Granny

The grandchildren had two grannies.
They wanted to differentiate between the grannies.
Both Grans had little dogs - as most Grannies do.
So they became known as Granny Spot and Granny Rufus.

I think I'll suggest this idea to my grandchildren - (when I eventually have them.)

.......and I'll be ready with my little dog.
I think I'll call her "Pretty".

Vivaldi - Gloria: 1. Gloria in excelsis Deo - Trevor Pinnock - The Engl...

This has to be my favourite piece of music in all the world to listen to.
I found this version on youtube and feel very nostalgic.
Anton Hartman conducted the Johannesburg Philharmonic Orchestra and the SA Youth Choir in 1979, my matric year. I was an Alto in the choir.

Crazy Spring Fever

It's been a while since I woke up feeling like a good spring clean.
The sound of the neighbours vacuum cleaner could have sparked some feeelings of guilt?
Or the fact that the sun is shining bright and hot for the first time in ages....
Whatever it was got me going nice and early - well, nine is early for me!
Unfortunately the spring clean got out of hand and turned into a bit of mania.
When on my hands and knees reaching into a corner to suck up that elusive web (including spider I'm afraid), I look up to see that the underside of the desk is VERY dry. Thirty seconds is all it takes, and I retract myself with the bright idea of oiling the desk.....at this point you should say to yourself - "STOP"
.....but I pull the desk out as far as it will go, cords allowing, with my foot. Holding the screen and my laptop in either hand I lie over the desk to place these two sensitive pieces of equipment onto the floor - on the far side.
Of course the cords are wound around the desk leg and the laptop won't reach the floor so I have to gently pull left to allow the plug to pop out....and voila I can go all the way down.
The laptop complains with melodious bleeping sounds, of too little battery and the 3G gets janked out in the process and falls to the floor from its prestik plug on the wall.
The desk has to be tipped over in a tiny space so out of the sliding door is the only option, but beacause my spring clean took on epic proportions there are kelims drying all over the patio.
No problem to move the kelims to make place for the desk...

Isn't the smell of oiled wood the most amazing thing?

I have a powertool!

I walked into builders warehouse to buy a spanner.

I walked out thrilled with my new Makita electric, cordless screwdriver!
Flat nose, stars and spanners - lots of them.

I couldn't wait to get home to open the box.

Small gasps of delight -

Is there something wrong with me?
ok - don't answer that!

Studded, Shiny gym pants

So I'm chuffed and very obviously shiny with my new magenta gym pants.

Studded all along the leg - all the way up, from the ankle to the waist - wonderful!

There were SO many of them on sale I was surprised thay hadn't been gobbled up as the doors opened.

I strutt into the gym ignoring the little smiles and the raised eyebrow.

As soon as I lie on my side I realise that they really are just "addidas show pants!"
The studs bite into your hips while you count out 100 leg lifts to the ladies on the floor.
The studs grind your thighs as you perform the most beautiful scissor splits.
......and when you stretch.....they pop open!

I have bruises!
I still wear them -
What can I say
I LOVE a bargain

Battery Bummer

Well I woke up and rushed out to be "just" in time for my pilates class and my battery was flat. I quickly phoned the gym with the excuse, after admitting to the group instructor the evening before that I wasn't keen to do the class on a holiday.
Obviously she was dubious.
Car trouble?
I felt like a dog with it's tail tucked in.
....and nothing I could say would change the fact.
It was pouring with rain and I walked to the security gate to look for jumper cables.

The nice man had a four wheeler and said he'd give me a lift to the clubhouse to fetch them.
I hop on the back holding the seat with two fingers, while trying to keep umbrella over head, keys in hand and phone from falling.
I slip around on the roundbar carrier.
The nice man was a very keen speedhump jumper!
We got to the clubhouse in one piece but I declined the lift back!

Anyway I flagged down another nice young man to help me jump start my car.
There are some advantages to being middleaged and a little ratty.

That was the second time in a month!

How does that law work - the one Murphy created?

Never drive anywhere wearing your Pj's -

Well I did!
All the way - ten kilo's- on the highway, to Brooklyn, to post a parcel.

...and while I ran in I left the radio playing.
...and when I got back the battery was flat.
...and I had to call AA roadside assistance.
...and they came, and I payed and chatted and smiled!
...and made as if there was nothing wrong,
...nothing wrong at all with me wearing my Pj's!

Flat Hunt

"If you don't make an offer today, it'll be gone by the morning!" announces the agent. I'm starting to enjoy my outings with the Estate Agents in Pretoria - I think it may be a good way to pass time, even if you're not looking for a property.

The minute you realise that the person driving you to view a place doesn't know you or doesn't particularly care, except for his commission, and then you can have just a little bit of fun.

Receiving an sms announcing, "I have found the perfect place for you!" was exciting. Of course when I got into his car he mentioned that there was just a little bit of work to do. I was skeptical and when we arrived it took me about 2 minutes to decide, that "no" this stinky flat was NOT the one. He then stood outside and informed me that "I'd better decide quickly or it would fly!"
Goodness all these flats and town houses doing a flying or disappearring act when there are 987 properties listed for sale in faerie glen alone. The mind boggles.
Strange thing, that all of the flats shown to me by this particular agent had a funny smell.

"You'll NEVER get granite in the kitchen for THAT price", when goodness I've seen ten new developements, ALL with granite in the kitchen.

"It IS a bit hot in this beautiful little A-frame, "with loft", but you can just put in an aircon".
He failed to mention that you would also have to be a midget to get into the bathroom upstairs.
You would also definitely have to remain seated in the loft area.........or be between the ages of two and six.

When I arrived at a lovely simplex I noticed that there was double electric fencing and four security boards nailed to the wall..........I enquired as to whether there was a security risk and the agent assured me vehemently "NO, as soon as someone TOUCHES the electric fencing, the guards will be here."
Well then why have they installed a laser "eye" on the outside wall?
....and no, we can't open the garage because the vicious dog is locked in there!
"So, Mandy, when will you be making an offer - this is a BARGAIN and the seller is in a hurry."
I replied that I would have to consult with my guru and let him know first thing in the morning.
I quite enjoyed the perturbed look on his face.

One man insists on showing me properties way above my price range, he only informs me as we leave "it's a little more than you wanted to pay, but you can just get a LITTLE bond."
What a freak!

The agent in the sports car said "you're a bit strange because I've shown you three lovely flats but you don't react, and now they're GONE".
Did I really have to remind her that I don't want a stack? Simplex, simplex, simplex. So big deal 3 flats have disappeared and now there are only 984 left!.....in faerie glen.
Then she showed me a simplex, "a needle in a hay stack", she called it - with the garage accessing the yard and 1,5 bathrooms and the perfect garden.
So when I asked to look at the garage, there is no door? and when I enquire she says, "it's in the right place you just have to break through the wall to get access.......it will be PERFECT".
A 1.5 bathroom should be one full and a guest toilet, no? So this more like 1/2 and 1/2, yes?

A young agent showed me a victorian first floor apartment and assured me that I would love the secure feeling "up there". I asked him where my garage was, and he pointed to "down there". When my friend phoned I loudly exclained that "I can't possibly tell this young man that I'm a screamer, and that's why I simply CAN'T take a stack dol!"

Funny that one never phoned me back.....pity, he was cute.

I found out that "don't worry too much about the damp" means (after digging up an old resident) the beautiful developement is built on a vlei!
I had a house that was built on a vlei - so I know why the crack appears in the floor and your life becomes all about covering up the cracks - so you don't buy the house!

As I scroll through the thousands of pictures on the internet, the "huge bargains" I saw six months ago are still there.

A day in the Life.....

So Danny has to be at the airport at 5.30am and of course I oblige.
I love anything that entails coffee in my "car cup" and middle of the night moves - so the alarm goes off at 3.30am and I'm off.
Danny has travelled a lot more than I have, I know because she can wear her slippers to an international airport and onto the plane and not give a fig!
She also whips out her role of Jiffy wrap and proceeds, with the dexterity of a spider, to wind that suitcase up so fast and tight that I get a bit nervous.
I don't say anything.
I look on with great respect.
Anyway my visions of coffee with my travelling daughter are dashed when she declines politely and requests the drop-off!

I'm impresssed by her independence, but I'm also home by 6.00am!

I planned a whole day around this!

I had been meaning to re-apply for my ID for ages and the only place I could go this early in the morning was to Home Affairs, so off I went with a long sigh and thoughts of queueing.

Well, it was a pleasure!

Like a guest of honor I was invited into the plastic booth to have pics taken, paid my R50 and got a much needed update for my "boekie".
In my last ID photo I was a smiling face in the midst of large head of frizzy permed hair, that was taken to either side of my head, with combs in big bunches......it WAS very fashionable at the time.
I was out after a short while and the new ID cost me all of twenty South African rand.

Next stop was the blood bank to donate blood and get a signature on my red card!
I don't think I've been eating very well and after a hectic few weeks of little sleep and 21 lessons of pilates per week they turned me away - my iron levels were low........but at least now I know why I've been feeling so pooped.

Off to the dentist.
My tooth broke a long time ago and you know how it is? Yup, it takes a while to make that appointment. The procrastinating will cost a bit 'cause I had to have root canal treatment.
Just a few little bleating sounds and my dentist obliged with more anesthetic injection - he's such a perceptive man.

The minute I got home of course a wave of exhaustion hit me and I crashed like an old oak tree and woke up feeling "like-you-feel-like-when-you've-slept-for-four-hours-while-the-sun-shines", spoiled and pampered.
.............and ready to stay up all night.........again!

.............and it just so happens to be a "drumming night"
Life is Good

Pretoria Academic Hospital

I’ve just got home from a visit to an uncle in the Pretoria Academic Hospital and I think I may need therapy.

I drove around the hospital block and asked 3 different people for directions to the main entrance.
One security guard led me to the medical faculty and yet another to the “old” HF Verwoerd which is now the Tswane hospital.
One man asked if it was “the old one or the new one?” Well, how would I know – so I used my clue – "the hospital with a nineth floor……………..?”
Aaaah the new one!”
I eventually drove into the gates of the Steve Biko Academic Hospital which had the Pretoria Academic signboard just inside the gates?

I was early for visiting hour but made my way to the entrance anyway.
The lady official behind the door shook her head and said “No, you must wait outside because it isn’t time yet.”

What? “Outside the hospital you mean?!”

“Yes” she nods “until it’s time”.

What are you talking about! Since when can’t you walk into the foyer or wait on the ground floor or go to the chemist.

“Well, can I go to the canteen for a cup of tea?”……….and this gets me entry!
“Yes, she announces, I can, I am allowed to enter if I’m going to have a cup of tea!”

If my eyes weren’t as big as saucers already, they were now.
The coffee shop looked as if it’s been looted!
There were crumbs and papers all over the floor and the shelves held a few scattered sweets .
After trying to work out what exactly was going on , I eventually find someone to answer me, but “No there is no tea Madam”.

Apparently the shop will be under new management on Monday and all I could get was a very dusty looking chocolate bar which I bought while longingly looking at the urn on the counter.
I felt duped.
There IS no chemist or flower shop and now there is obviously no coffee shop.

The Ward held yet more interesting developments.

I was apparently STILL too early and was asked to wait in what felt like a holding cell filled with black plastic chairs.
The obese woman opposite me struggled to get out of her seat with a sigh and a loud fart!

When I asked where my Uncle was I got a grunt from a mouth full of KFC and a long pointed finger on the end of a disinterested arm.

I found him and I was thrilled and grateful.

Sitting on his bed my Uncle told me that he had given his supper to his ward companion who had obviously a large appetite that was in contradiction to his thin frame.
We couldn’t help smiling when the man’s visitors arrived with packets full of food.
He received this with gusto and polished off a pile of Pap and meat.
The visitors then presented three large mangos.
We had to look down and hold our heads as they nibbled and suckled on the mangos making all the appropriate noises chewing through skin and all.
We couldn’t help smiling.

A rattling came through the door and a happy and smiling and wrinkled lady served us all tea in polystyrene cups.
The tea was a sweet prize.

We declined the inch thick slices of brown bread wrapped in cling wrap.
Our hungry compatriot definitely wanted a snack and eagerly dipped his bread into his tea.
I was interested to ask if there was a filling? Was this a sandwich or dry bread?
“No” replied his girlfriend confidently – “it is dry because they aren’t sure - you may be a vegan”.

Hey?

I say my goodbyes.

I look back to wave and see that the visitors are lying all over the man’s hospital bed taking photos, happy snaps of their happy time together in the hospital ward.

I walk out of the ward and pass the ward sisters dipping their arms into greasy bags, pulling out fistfuls of “slap chips” and talking loudly through mouths full of putty.
I think I need help to process this picture.

Everything has slowed down.
I’m speechless.

Platinum or Platinum?

So I have to meet friends at the Hartebeespoort Dam.
I get directions "onto the Platinum Highway and stay on it!
Pass through two toll gates each approximately R7.50.
Before you get to the Dam you’ll pass a BIG wall – Joost van der Westhuizens new development.
The journey should take about forty minutes."
Got it!
I give a few pilates classes on Zambezi Road and I’ve seen the Platinum Highway signboards – so I feel I’m sorted and head off confidently at 8am to be in time for breakfast just before nine.
I pass a number of Platinum Highway signs and feeling cool, hum away to myself.
First toll gate in sight and it’s R9.50?.....mmm ok close enough and then oh? wonderful ! – there’s the long facebrick wall.
I’m impressed on two counts.
That my friends even knew that this was Joost’s development, and that Joost had a low cost housing development that he didn't advertise. After all of stories I've heard maybe I was wrong about the man.
Another Platinum sign board.
I wondered when I was going to veer West? but kept going and breathed a sigh of relief when I see the second toll gate in the distance.
The charge is R35.50 and the alarm bells start to sound.
I also havn’t seen any Hartties signboards yet? but hang on, there’s one up ahead and I keep going.
Bela Bela..............isn't that Warmbaths?
I can't believe it!
I say a "Mantra when Lost" which goes something like........."relax don't panic we are still in South africa relax don't panic fuk think breathe fuk you'll get there relax don't panic we are still in South africa relax don't panic fuk think breathe fuk you'll get there..."
I ask for directions, again.
The nice man tells me that it’s not too far.
"Turn around, go back through two toll gates R35.50. and R9.50, turn west when you get to Pretoria and you'll be heading in the right direction Madam."
Well to say that my face dropped is a bloody understatement!
I nearly fainted, at which point I got a phone call to say “Where ARE you!”
All I could do was stare, breathe, and say “I’m coming”.
So, I did get onto the right road.
I did go through the two R7.50 toll gates.
There they were! The very same Platinum Highway signs!?
I saw the long wall, although rich and creamy and plastered.
I realised that I was right about Joost and that he had not become a charitable philanthropist, .............and there’s a very large bill board with his face plastered all over it, advertising his new and exclusive upmarket development.
I did get to the dam.…….. albeit at 10.30am.
I had a lovely brunch and a wonderful day thank you very much.
.…..and NO I do NOT want to discuss it!

Five Years Younger in just Forty Minutes.

I’ve put off coloring my hair the whole week.
The box of “chocolate 500”, a mocking reminder that I need to use it in the first place and then still halve it in the second, but my grey roots are insisting on some attention.
The thought of giving the 8am fitness class to ten young women at virgin active helps to motivate me.
I set my alarm for six this morning to deal with the pressing crisis.

I groan as I sleepily slap the light switch and realize that it had blown the night before.
Do I really have to balance on a high chair with the torch in my mouth and a screw driver in my hand ?
I look in the mirror and realize there’s no way I could even see the grey in this light.
So yes, out comes the chair, the torch, the screwdriver and as I reach for the very fuzzy screw I realize that I need my glasses !

So now I’m back on the chair peering through the glasses swearing at the bad light and this screwdriver just isn’t doing the job.
After a few mumbled choice words with screws in my mouth, the cover is off.
I do a power backbend and a super sidebend to reach the bulb and the job is done!
I hop off the chair test the switch and up again to return the cover.
In the light of a new 100w globe I realize that the screwdriver is full of dry mud. I had some weeds in my paving and I’ve always used a screwdriver……

So I mix the colour and daub on the miracle that will make me look 5 years younger, make me feel full of fun and energy, sexy, and confident - all in just forty minutes!

STOP PRESS

When I walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror I gave a shriek!
I had waited the allotted forty minutes but had forgotten that the eyebrow dye only takes five. So now I have beautiful chocolate roots and very thick pitch black eyebrows!

The Curious Cat

I was lying in bed sleepily when I heard a mewing at my window. A beautiful tortoiseshell cat was peering at me as if to ask for entry. I opened the window and was thrilled to see her hop in and immediately start purring. She seemed to feel at home and walked around my flat inspecting the new surrounds, purring and pressing herself against the furniture. It was such a blessing. I was missing my two beautiful cats, one that looked not dissimilar to my new visitor.

Her tag read “Curios” and I frowned but realized the spelling mistake as she was soon in the cupboards, under the beds and very curious about my home.

Every day saw the return of the curious cat and I soon enjoyed getting home, fairly frazzled, to be met at my door by the enthusiastic feline friend.

The weight on my feet as I fell asleep was comforting. She obviously had an owner but living in a large complex, I assumed that there wasn’t a problem. How do you contain a cat? That’s exactly why I love them.

I was digging away in the garden when I felt a presence!

I looked up to find a scowling woman watching me and smiled immediately, trying to disarm her.

“Where’s my cat?”, she spat.

Aaaah…………”Well I’m not sure which cat is yours, there are a few running around the complex?”

“Curious”, the short answer came.
So I was right about the spelling mistake.
“I’m not sure, she may be in my flat but she comes and goes, you’re welcome to have a peep”, I said smiling and opening the gate.

She was VERY determined and walked straight in, looking in every room. She came out and asked me why the cat was SO “rustig” ? Curious was lying on the spare room bed. Well, what do you say?

Ask the cat?

She informed me that she was going to remove the cat and that I was to keep my windows closed! December in Pretoria?......I don't think so. Back in she went and came out with Curios, I mean Curious, in her arms. I opened the gate and as she walked through it, the cat went ballistic and scratched her in her face as she clung furiously to her. Blood dripping into her eye, she stalked away indignantly.

Why did I feel guilty – I didn’t even feed the cat……oh, and now I realize why she looked around the kitchen!

Well, that was that and I continued my gardening. Later that evening Curious was back and plopped herself cosily on the bed. An irate woman followed shortly after, banging on my door clutching a plastic cat carrier and wearing a very unfortunate expression on her scratched face that made me want to giggle.

She pressed the unwilling cat into the carrier and announced that she would be taking Curious to her parents in Witbank!
Goodness, such a terrible punishment for anyone !
I had no claim and after all it was her cat, so I shrugged my shoulders and off she sped.

I did miss her, but two weeks later she was back. She slunk into my home like a villain, her head hung and her body seemed bruised. She looked sad and done in, as she slowly snuggled into a corner of the chair.

Lo and behold I soon had a bashing on my door and opened it to a very confused woman. We had a long discussion about why her cat wouldn’t stay at home, about control, possession and love.

A week later after intermittent visits from Curios I received her “papers” under my door.I often see her in the parking lot and we have a quick cat chat, but strangely enough she’s stopped coming to visit me altogether.

It was almost as if she knew that I now “owned” her…..and she would have none of it!

That’s what I love about cats.

Curious owner though?

Lucid Luxury

I lay down on the bed for my long overdue facial and submitted myself to the most wonderful hands, softly massaging my face with thick creamy cleanser.

I never thought I would ever get knee-buckling gooseflesh all the way down my legs, in a public place again.

As she massages my head and neck I lay back feeling like a wealthy widow from waterkloof and drifted into a lucid dream state.

I registered the beautician leaving the room for me to steam and coming back a few minutes later. I think it's considered a compliment if you can get the client to fall asleep on the chair.

If I woke up to hear myself snore twice? - that must mean that I fell asleep twice?

Good on you Antoinette!

Pride or Prejudice?

So every two weeks I head off to the drumming circle and sit around a fire connecting with myself, by rhythmically paddling an African drum. Some people have warned me that I am mixing with people who are dark and awakening the devil. The only people I think would be awakened are the neighbours, but maybe they think we are calling on the ancestors?
I wouldn’t know.

“Which ancestors would you like to call on tonight?”
Not sure cause I don’t know any?

So with this in mind, I was worried about where to practice my digeridoo in the complex where I live – but realized there is an upside.

When I first put my lips to the tube and blew, I was worried that my sound was more like a long fart and didn’t much sound like the droning sound the others made – until I got the droning sound and was ecstatic, and realized that the first sound WAS just like a long fart.

So the thing is – as long as the neighbours think I’m windy and not evil I recon I should be ok.

That’s the upside …..or should I rather say – the downside?

From Glider to Go-Kart and back

Ok, so two weeks ago I smacked my car into the back of a truck!

The panel beaters in Pretoria kindly handed me the keys to a citi golf courtesy car – for which I was definitely grateful, make no mistake.

So I head off hunched over the steering wheel, jerking down Schoeman str. revving too much and then too little. For the first day I activated the windscreen wipers to indicate and stalled on all inclines.

I have new respect for anyone who doesn’t have the privilege of aircon, and arrived at every destination just a little hot and my hair in a state of windswept wildness.

Every parking area was scanned for any shade, and then of course I had to negotiate the gear lock. As I approached the car I did try (only once) to press the key and point it at the car to unlock, with no success. Central locking and electric windows – how quickly we get used to these luxuries.

I had to get to Zambezi road from Pretoria East in a hurry and was speeding along – I was a bit worried that I may get a ticket but when I looked at the speedo I was only doing 80km per hour! From the noise and the shuddering I was under the impression that I was driving dangerously fast. I needed to “put foot” so pushed until I was doing 100km’s per hour and just at that speed my review mirrors couldn’t handle the wind and collapsed, hugging the car! They are only tiny but without them I was twisting and turning in the traffic just to stay alive.

By the end of the week I’m a pro and should take the opportunity to challenge someone to go-kart racing – I’m confident that I’ve done the training, and besides without power steering my arms can only be stronger.

I drove out with my newly repaired car today which felt like a hover craft, looked brand new and I am grateful.

Journey Thoughts

 I used to think that life is a ladder and up we must go. Always measuring yourself against someone else. Either looking up or looking down.

The minute I realised that we are all worthy and on the same journey the pressure was off. I'm enjoying the feeling of today. One day at a time, not making too many plans and being grateful when I'm blessed.

The feeling of joy that I am unique. To "be myself" is all I have to do and it's enough. Look straight ahead and look into your eyes. We are equal. There is no competition.

Everyone has had a share of hardship and everyone has a story to tell. My story is no more important than yours.

If I try not to assume anything and never take anything personally, I avert feelings of envy, guilt, grudge and self pity. Read the messages the universe sends, be teachable and open to change.

I have lost a few friends along the way and have peace that there is a season for everything and if we grow and change then some things will fall away.

Allow people to move on and take a different path and release them with love.

If I listen to what you have to say I will learn something about you, and maybe about me, and hopefully about life.

When I slowed down my frantic search I realised that what I was looking for was right in front of me.

Silly Question.

My Accountant phoned me today with the happy news that she’s ready to send in my tax returns.

“You just have to make a first payment of R650 though, before the end of the week.”

“Ok, I can do without that this month though”, I reply.

Now get this – “We could make that zero if you want to”, she offers.

“Excuse me?, make it zero?”, I’m confused.

“Yes, we could just adjust a few figures, and you wouldn’t have to pay anything”,“would you prefer that?”

Ok , so now there’s silence – I mean, how would you respond.

“Hell Yes darling, lets make it zero!”

Oops!

Ok…So, you and I both know that you NEVER assume someone pregnant on the grounds that they are a little chubby and may LOOK pregnant.

I learned this lesson in the eighties in Bloemfontein.
I was late for work one morning and rushing, I shot the stop street.
I don’t think it would be wise to mention that I was daubing mascara onto my eyelashes at the time, but I was. Isn’t it amazing how your lashes in your twenties are, or seem to be thick and long and beautiful and they become short and thin and non-co-operative when you’re over the age of forty five? Oh, you aren’t over the age of forty five?
Well I was twenty two then and mine were beautiful.

…….back to the stop street (which wasn’t working!). So I didn’t see the stop and crashed straight into the door of a white car!

Bugger!

And the usual shock and horror, screaming, swearing and tears.
So as I approach the woman in the drivers seat with an “oops!” look on my face, I see that she’s pregnant.
“Oh my goodness!” I say “Is the baby ok?”
She glares at me and with venom dripping from her voice, which has prevented me from making this mistake again for over twenty five years says "I'm NOT pregnant!"

Yesterday I met a woman who started chatting away at me.
I didn’t know her from a bar of soap and she told me where she bought her top – from foschinis. I did the “ooh” and “ahh” (It WAS beautiful).
She mentioned that her boobs had gotten SO big (showing me with her hands, just how big) and that she’d put on so much weight.

Well, there you have it – she DID look pregnant, and she spoke as if she was pregnant and YES, I did! “Well, I wouldn’t worry just yet”, I said “You can loose it all after having the baby”, and added “congratulations!”

She was very sweet, "I'm not actually pregnant, but a few people have made the same mistake."

Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better.

I’ve broken a twenty five year record!

Kissing with none clothes on!

William (7), Joseph (5) sitting in the back of the car.

We’re all sunburned and restful.

On our way home from a wonderful day of windsurfing at the dam.

Daniela (2) lies sleeping, her face angelic, in my lap.

“Mommie?”, from Joseph wondering if I’d dropped off.

“Mmmm?”, I reply drowsily.

“Those boys by da water say dat some people day kiss”.

“Mmmmm really Joe, that’s nice, people do kiss, yes”, I reply.

“Ja, that’s what they were talking about”, emphatically from William.

“Mommie?”, from Joe.

“Mmmmm?”

“Mommie, but day say da’ve got none clothes on”, trying to get my attention,which it did, “really Joe, which boys were these?”

“Those big boys at the dam”, confirms William quietly.

“Oh Ja?”, not knowing where they wanted to go with this.

“Mommie?”, persists Joe.

“Mmmm?”

“Mommie, but day dat da girl she taked off her bwa!”, he says dramatically.

“No clothes mom, they were bare!”, adds William ,triumphant.

“Ok, I think then maybe it was a mommie and a daddy Joe?”, I reassure him.

“NO”, states William categorically “They were big kids”, nodding his head.

OK, I think, here we go!

“Mommie?” Joe asks softly, “Mommie?”, coming close to my face with his.

“Yes Joe Joe”, I ask.

I’m now wide awake and ready, “What is it my love?”

“Mommie, Whats a bwa?”

Bird Cage

I wake up early and pop my washing into the washing machine.
My little garden has a big tree in the middle and on the far side is my single garage.
Hanging the washing on the drying rack in the garage, I'm deep in thought.
The security gate has automatically locked behind me as I come in.
A half an hour later I'm ready to go to work but can’t place my house keys.
Looking around with a frown I remember that I’d been outside.
Of course when I look through the leaves of my big tree I see the bunch of keys hanging innocently from the garage door.
You know that sinking feeling.
I can somehow understand someone locking themselves out, but locking yourself in?, seems impossible.
I peer outside my kitchen window and and see my neighbor in his boxers and call “helllooooo, excuse me, hellloooooo.”
All this does is send him scuttling back into the cover of his flat!
My shoulders slump with a disappointed “Aarg”.
I try again, this time aiming at a fully clothed man on his way to work.
He looks around to see my arms reaching through the little kitchen window and comes closer, slowly.
I smile widely but not too widely, I don't want to scare him away.
“and No, I don’t want to arrest you, accost you, or marry you!”
(I don’t say this, I only think this)All I’m asking him to do, is walk around to my back gate, jump over the wall, and hand me a bunch of keys.
I explain the reason for the early morning gymnastics to a very dubious frown and he agrees to do my bidding.
He hands me the bunch of keys through the security gate, and as I reach out and clutch at them, the story of Hansel and Grettel comes to mind.

I watch to make sure that he hops straight back over that wall.

You can never be too sure, you know.
There are some strange people around.

Geriatric Joyride

I’m just finishing off with a client in my studio and a loud “MWHAAAAAAAAAAAAaeeee”, sounds outside and trails away down the road.

I see my client out and a white honda passes with another “MWHAAAAAAAAAAAdyyyyyyyyyyy” trailing away again.

I recognise my name in there somewhere so I crane my neck and catch a glimpse of the back of the car with someone hanging out of the window and step closer to see what the dickens is going on!

Here it comes again, and yes, I’m sure that looks like my parents’ car? I recognise my mom hanging out of the window, arms flailing! “MAANdyyyyyyyyyy”.

She’s seen me and I wait as they come around the block for the fourth round, this time
shouting “MAANdy open the gaaaaaate”.

Well, obviously I do as I’m told, as quickly as possible, AND clear the area!

They have entry! They make a decisive detour and come to a neat stop in the driveway!

The look on my face? “The aliens have landed!”

My windswept mom steps out with a big smile, “is it ok if we stop for tea?”

“Of course, but are you ok? Is there a problem?”, I ask with wide disbelieving eyes and a mouth that doesn’t want to listen when I say “close”.

“No problem, the car keeps cutting out every time we stop, so we thought we’d just HAVE to stop INSIDE.”

Melt-Down

In London for the reunion with my beloved Aunty G.
We’re staying at the home of the unfortunate Aunty D, of Hammersmith Halo fame.

On the first night of the long chats with Aunty G her face melts in front of my eyes!
Her mouth droops, her eyes close and I hear a mumble that sounds a bit like “sfgleedkfpvkjfinghv tablet” and she reaches for a contraption that makes me think she’s going snorkeling.
Protruding from the nose-piece is a tube that looks very disturbingly like a large dildo.

Our conversation ends, just like that….. with me in mid-sentence and her in mid-meltdown.
So I go to my room and have disturbing dreams of Darth Vader.
The only signs at breakfast are the indentations from the mask on the sides of a smiling face. I marvel.

We head off for Bath where we find a wonderful youth hostel . A few days of sightseeing and relaxed banter sounds glorious.

“You know of course we’ll have to move on tomorrow don’t you?” says Aunty G.
“No why, aren’t we here for a few days?” I reply.
“We’re in Bath for a few days, yes, but in a different hostel every night” she says pulling her face.
“whaaat, no ways we can just stay here”, it’s just not debatable.

So we snuggle in for the night, exhausted from the days roaming and chat away until melt-down.

Ten minutes into my drifting into a blissful sleep I’m on high alert.

A helicopter takes off right above me crashes into a roaring lion!
For a second there I listen in disbelief. Again it spins up, up, up with a whining desperate sound, holds for a breathtaking three seconds and then comes at the roaring lion with aggressive fury.

The same helicopter takes off and crashes into the same roaring lion all night long, over and over again.
Coughs and sighs and exasperated noises come from six sleepless beds.
It spins up, up, up with a whining desperate sound, holds for a breathtaking three seconds and then comes at the roaring lion with aggressive fury.

I lie dead still, rigid, wide awake.
It spins up, up, up with a whining desperate sound, holds for a breathtaking three seconds and then comes at the roaring lion with aggressive fury.

I’m tempted to shake her awake to make sure she’s ok, but as I listen I realize there’s a pattern, a rhythm. She’s alive and well, fast asleep and blissfully unaware.
It spins up, up, up with a whining desperate sound, holds for a breathtaking three seconds and then comes at the roaring lion with aggressive fury.

Eight hours of pillow bashing and animal slaughter later, she wakes refreshed and beaming.
A room full of travelers glare and growl and Aunty G cheerfully says “Oh my, did I snore? So sorry it happens sometimes, but not to worry we’re leaving today”.

“Oh and we must go and get my tabs cause if I don’t take them, my snoring will keep me awake!”


I love my Aunty G
Bath, London 2004

Wicked Cake!

Janine is serving the most delectable cakes at the stork tea.
There is a large group of women and plates are coming and going fast.
Daniela and I decide to share a slice.
I look around for my plate but can’t find it.
There is a relatively clean plate in the kitchen which I decide to use.
We spoon soft sponge and caramel, with white icing into our mouths with moans of delight.
We savour each heavenly smooth treat.
Daniela spots a creamy lump on the side of the plate and sweeps her finger through it saying “mmmm, and whats this?”
I watch her, and wait until her finger is in her mouth and say.”I dunno, it’s not our plate!”

A wicked grin from Mom and wide-eyed disgust from Daniela did bring on an attack of protracted hysterical laughter and clinging together. :-)

Duvet in a Bag

So Gentle - so Powerful

So I made a duvet-in-a-bag for Lyndsay’s Stork tea

It’s a boy! - Mathew

As I closed the bag it caught my eye – I opened the bag to look again - in disbelief !

My legs went weak and I had to sit on the bed and marvel

Daniela - from the Hebrew for "God is my Judge". She is as free as the air and will not be held down.....A beautiful Butterfly.

Mandy - From the Latin meaning "Worthy of Love"Gentle and kind, beautiful and caring, she loves unselfishly.
She values her family above all else.

These pieces of material had been cut and sewn into Strips long before
- probably 2 years ago (before I left for Pretoria)

see blog – And the Butterfly follows me

Full deck of cards

We all get a full deck of cards.
If there are a few extra jokers in yours, count yourself lucky.
You have more options.
You can have fun all on your own.
You have an excuse, if you're prepared to use one.
You can bend the rules.
If used wisely this card can carry more weight than a queen
and can be more valuable than a king.

I may be in Trouble

If Sugar does to my Mind
What Alcohol does to an empty stomach
Does that mean my mind is empty?


this is just a thought and does not require anyone to comment!

Five Star Fun

I take my video back to laser video vending machine and wonder at what the world coming to. No personal touch, no human interaction.
A machine that spits out a dvd and even says “thankyou”. (with an American accent)
I am tempted and some days do reply, “it’s a pleasure”.

I know that Craig manages the operation and hear him shuffling around in the backroom from time to time.
He emerges from the poster of Grand Torino and I decide to have some fun.

I stop dead and stare at him aghast.
“I KNEW there had to be someone in there!”
He starts to explain “No…..”,
I override with “How often do you get out?”,
“Your voice sounds amazing through the slot!” and
“Do you ever get any sun?”

We both start to laugh as I assure him that I’m only joking.

He seems a bit dubious though and I’m aware of his little frown and his concern for my mental state.

He’s still watching me as I leave and I spot the ATM.

Naughty I know, but I lean close to the money dispenser and try and engage the person in the ATM in conversation………………when I don’t get an answer, I tip my head in disappointment and turn to wave goodbye to a VERY flabbergasted young man.

What's on my mind

“What’s on your mind?” makes me think.
Do you really want to know what’s on my mind?
How nervous am I to express exactly what’s on my mind?
Are you brave enough to truthfully express what’s on your mind?

I think if we did, the world would explode with possibilities and amazing ideas.
I think if we did, we would do more, try more, experience more and learn more.

If a certain percentage, lets use 50%, of people aren’t going to like what you have to say,does it matter which 50% it is.
Either way you’re working with the same odds .

How many times a day do you get a thought and close it down?
How many times a day do you get an idea and negate the possibility?
How often do you want to do something and worry about the fallout?
Worry about what people think, how you’ll come across or who will reject you?
Are labels like crazy and alternative, just ways to curb lateral thinking?

Therefore if 50% will disagree and 50% will agree
then you have nothing at all to lose.

and if "All things are possible....."
Then have no fear and freely express
someone has gotta love it!


Mandy said...
note to self - thanx for giving us all permission smartarse!
reply to self - it's a pleasure dol!

Ode to Myself

Be still and know that I am ok
Allow my friends to love me
We all have our chinks and don’t want them to show
But it’s human and pleasing to know
That I can relax and let life flow
Not everyones out to hurt me
Be open and free, like a bird in a tree
My friends allow me to be
Cause I learn and I grow
And in time life unfolds
there're so many things I don’t know
And everyone has wisdom to offer

to open my ears, my eyes and my heart

and receive what I'm given today

be grateful for changes that crack my facade

these changes bring change of heart

Hammersmith Halo

So, after the Harrow Humdinger I felt like I needed to give my parents some space.

My Aunt had immigrated to New Zealand and we decided to meet up in Hammersmith.

Her family had kindly agreed to accommodate me for our reunion.
D, our host was a sweet and welcoming hostess and our room was comfy and warm.
She showed us around her beautiful home, lovingly showing off her prized antiques and cherished collections. Her knowledge grown over years, their value - priceless.
We were left to catch up on ten years of news.
We chatted till the early hours and woke to snow and a steaming pot of tea.
I groggily donned a thick white gown and headed for the little room.

It was a very little room.

It was only big enough to walk in, shut the door, turn and sit.

As I closed the door and turned, I brought my arm up to my head.

The porcelain toilet roll holder came loose and described an arc above my head.

I looked up in horror, turning and reaching up desperately at the same time.

I watched it’s decent, hands fluttering.

The sharp splintering sound as it landed in the antique toilet bowl, brought D running.

I slid down to the floor with my head in my hands.

I prayed that this time I WAS dreaming.


London 2004

Harrowing Humdinger

My parents had been in London for over a year and I was dying to see them.

My mom , teaching for Capita in a public school had had a particularly grueling start.My dad at 68 was the caretaker of a block of flats, where he took out all the rubbish bags and cleaned the pool and locker rooms. He also delivered newspapers, pulling a laden trolley at 5.30am every morning.

Arriving in Harrow, seeing my dad waiting on the corner, after negotiating plane, train and bus was
marvelous. After dumping my bags we walked over to mom’s school and there were whoops of delight as she came out of the gate. A wonderful reunion as they showed me around their world. They were living in a room above the newsagent in Harrow and had been offered a room for me to stay for the duration of my visit. I was up the first flight of stairs and they were a floor above me. Dad worked for the newsagent and warned me not to be concerned if there was a lot of banging at 5am. This would be the newspapers being dumped just inside the door below me, ready for delivery. Mom and I tube to Piccadilly Circus like two excited teenagers. We eat and shop and chat and walk until the last tube runs and head off back home.I was exhausted. The flight, what with too little leg room, excitement and whatever disturbances go with sitting on the aisle, was sleepless.

Mom sets the alarm, locks the door and I frown as I notice about 5 latches attached to the door. Coming from South Africa I wonder if we’re safe? I head up the stairs and fall into a dead blissful sleep.

Somewhere very far away I hear calling, calling, calling. There’s been a lovers tiff and she’s locked him out – He calls for her over and over again. He’s desperate, he’s devastated. He calls and calls and calls.

She’s not listening and he decides to entice her with a fireworks display – the blue lights revolve around and around and around and stills she ignores him. I wake up so frustrated and think “What a pain woman, I’m trying to sleep here, just let the guy in!” after which he starts to get violent.

He hacks down the door in fury and I realize that I’m dreaming.
The dream turns into a nightmare as the noise gets louder and there’s lots of shouting and the lover is coming to get ME.
I wake with a start and sick feeling in my gut and there’s a policeman in my room!
A nude man appears on the stairway!
I don’t recognize either.
I recognize my moms frantic voice when she shouts from the top “Darling for heavens sake put some clothe’s on!”

The newspaper delivery couldn’t get in using their key, so the police had been called to break the door down. On returning late last night I did us all a favour and latched the door. Five times.


London 2004

Persian Panic

I look at my toenails before going out.

The ruby nail polish is half chipped away and looks awful. I consider redoing them.

Naa, I’m wearing closed shoes anyway so this can wait until tomorrow.

We arrive in Camps Bay at the solid stainless steel gate and press for entry.
A discreet bleep allows us onto the winding concrete path lined with tropical palms.
We reach the top where water trembles in the rim pool.
I look toward the bay where wet mist is gathering over the water.

The huge windows of glass give us a glimpse of the inner sanctuary of flocati rugs, flames whispering from the fireplace, a huge ottoman and luxurious throws, comfortable and chic.

Hello Daaaahlings, limp wrists and cheeck kisses all around as we step onto the Persian rug.
“Dooo come in”, “We follow the British model so please leave your shoes at the door”
As everyone calmly complies I have a strange sensation in my gut and as I too take off my shoes, I look up and make a ridiculous joke hoping that everyone will be fixated on my face and not, please no, NOT look down at my feet!

"I think I’ll head for the powder room?”, and off I go keeping my toes away from the crowd.
Safely inside I rummage furiously in my bag – I KNOW I had it somewhere.
Think. Think. Think.
I swan out with a huge smile and sparkling eyes (keep looking at my face!) and ask my friend for the car keys.
He shakes his head frowns and his hands flurry around.
“Left something in the car”, I say
“Your shoes!, it’s freezing out”, he says
but I’m gone.

Fast mini steps down the tropical pathway and straight to the boot of the car – GOT IT!
I pop myself into the front seat and paint my toe nails……Aaaaaah Bliss
I feel a deep sense of relief.
I’m saved.
Order has been restored.

Getting back was a slow process with toes spread wide. I must have looked like a bird on lily pads as I carefully made my way back toward the pool area. I made a point of examining every palm and bush to disguise my affliction.

My friend did have a little frown on his face when I got back, but I just smiled as I lit a cigarette, sat on the little wall and crossed my legs.

This side and then that, I fanned my widespread toes.

Kenyan Coolerbag

Long Long Ago

My cousin owns a house in Pretoria and I’m a guest .

I’m sleeping in his guest room with the key to an outside toilet.

I’ve just got in, I’m exhausted it’s 10pm and I’m ready for bed.

He shouts “cheers see you in the morning! The alarm is set”, as he heads out to party.

I lay my head down and realize I need to wee.
It dawns on me that he used the key earlier and I didn’t get it back! I sit up with a start and see the red light of the alarm detector flash in the corner of the room. I slam my body back onto the bed. I have set the alarm off twice already with mayday reacting quickly and forcefully. I’m not popular at the moment and would hate to set it off again.I’ve never used an alarm system and know that I have to stay still and below the beam, that’s what I’ve heard!

I stay very low down but manage to turn around so that I’m facing the windows – I’m sure I saw something move! I stretch across the bed and reach down to my bag where I find the gun. Now I’m safe, but I still need to wee.

Ok, think.

I can’t get to the window – the alarm will go off when I stick my bum outside.
Anyway I wouldn’t stick my bum out the window to wee cause I’m sure I saw something move!If I jump up and go through the house, the alarm will go off, mayday will arrive…..NO not again.
Maybe he’ll have a horrible time at the party and be home any minute.
Relax and have some coffee out of the flask………..can’t cause I’m now bursting to wee.
Just the thought of it makes my bladder ache.

The coolerbag!
If I leopard crawl across the bed and plop onto the floor, keeping a close eye on the alarm detector, I can reach it. I slowly pull the cooler bag towards me, tip it on it’s side and slip the flask, cups and container out. Luckily it’s one of the soft coolers. The Kenyans gave it to us as a gift, but it’ll do the trick.There’s definitely something moving outside!

So I keep one eye on the alarm detector and one eye on the window, as I roll onto my side, then onto my back, keeping my hands low and under the “beam”. I undo my zip and pull my pants down to my knees. I lie back and kick, little freestyle kicks , until the pants are off my feet. I lift myself up just enough to squash the cooler under my butt. I bring my upper body around, staying low, so that my chest is eventually on the bed and I bring my feet around so that I’m at least on my knees, with the cooler in place. I take one last look at the detector, relax my face into the duvet, exhausted, I relieve myself.

I feel faint and realize that although my bladder has held up very well, the coolerbag hasn’t. As I shudder with long anticipated relief the bed becomes warm around me.

“You will not panic!” I tell myself, “you’re a mother with three children, you’ve been in a few predicaments in your life, make a plan”, “think”.Ok, so I don’t panic, I think.I do check the alarm detector though and then the window and remember to stay down.
I lay my hand on the gun and check the window again.
The smell of urine fills the room, it’s midnight.
I’m thrilled that I have been able to stay under the beam.

Coffee!..that’s it…..If I can get to the flask………and I leopard crawl, ignoring the now wet and cold bed.I focus, I slowly draw the flask to me and undo the cap.
If I can pour the coffee over the wet bed then it’ll hide the smell of the urine!
One problem at a time.I roll onto my side and then onto my back. I lie back and take long sniffs of the air.He may not smell this you know, the coffee was black and strong.
I lay my hand on the gun and check the window again.

I lie watching the alarm detector, checking the window, sniffing the air until 3am when I see the lights of his car coming into the driveway.
I let out a strange noise of relief and wait for him to deactivate the alarm.

I jump right up drawing the wet duvet around myself.
I knock on his door “Cousy let me in, I need to wee!”


Arcadia 1998

Home Affairs

I’m a fan of Centurion Home Affairs.

I phone before going to renew my passport.

An extremely helpful and confident lady gives me instructions and directions to get there.
I’m impressed.

“Take the Botha Rd offramp - left into Armscor rd - right into Toupe - right into River rd. - right into Coeger str.”
Got it!

But Armscor happens to be Amcor
Toupe happens to be Topaz
River Rd. happens to be Reefer Rd.
And its not Coeger str. but Kruger str.


…….and on a sign at the counter “Please do not use a cocky pen”

Willy Warmers

Winter Wool

It’s wonderful to walk into a well stocked woolshop. The shelves bursting with bales of soft, colourful, textured wool. It’s enough to get me feeling very creative and encourages me to make something – anything.

All I want to do is look, feel, think, look some more, imagine the jersey and visualize the blanket.

The sales lady keeps drawing me away from the luscious balls of fluffiness to a sample chart lined with an inch per sample of every wool available.

I don’t want to choose wool from the sample book – I LOVE wool and I want to feel the wool, I want to see 50 balls of the same wool huddled together, I want the wool to speak to me.
How do you explain to the sales lady that this is an experience, and to get her off your back?

But how MUCH will you need?
mind bubble…………….AS MUCH AS I CAN AFFORD TODAY

What is it that you’re using it for?
mind bubble…………….ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING

But surely you know the size per item?
mind bubble…………….WE DON’T KNOW WHAT THE ITEM IS
Her heavily made-up eyes looking down her nose through her designer spectacles.
“Die wol is tog so duur, jy moet jou mates ken!”
(“The wool is so expensive these days – you should know your measurements!”)

Why does she have to know WHAT you’re crocheting or how much wool you need?

After her inquisitive prodding and poking around to find the reason for my wool choice, loudly encouraging all the women in the shop to “participate” in the purchase – I told her, “Actually mevrou , my daughter and I want to make a very large consignment of Willy warmers for the winter, and NO we don’t know how much wool we’ll be needing, but it must be soft and definately stretchy”

And the Butterfly follows Me

Dear Karen,
http://butterflyandbarnacle.wordpress.com/

My mom always encouraged women at church meetings by using her “Butterfly in a teacup” talk…..how to spread your wings in a trapped situation and still fly and be beautiful. A motivation for woman to cope in awful circumstances………….I decided to fly out of the cup and left my husband after 26 years.

At a fortieth Birthday, I met Janine – founder of the Charity Woman against Rape – WAR – her website needs revamping and I get the job – her logo is a butterfly – she is now one of my close friends. http://www.womanagainstrape.com/

Writing e-mails to my mom about my progress helped me make sense of the drama unfolding.
I got a reply one day to say “I am not your mom, but your story sounds amazing………..tell me more” Maureen’s e-mail address butterfly@...... my moms freebutterfly@...... so close had brought to me a wonderful friend.
Maureen and I communicated for a while and when we decided to arrange a meet realized that we lived less than 5kms apart!

I got a job in Johannesburg as a junior web developer (probably the oldest Junior web developer in the country… at 47). I had never worked away from home, my husband a doctor and avid polo player more than adequately provided. I am a qualified Pilates Mat Instructor.

My anthem in those days on my way to Jhb was Michael Bouble’s “Birds flying high………you know what I mean” and in one verse “Dragonfly out in the sun, Butterflies all having fun”
I sang the song over and over as I drove until I had it embedded in my heart…..It’s a new dawn, It’s a new day, a new life…for me.

I joined the Masters swimming club, Coelocanths, and met Henk – we trained in the Virgin active pool together and one day he was discussing the possibilities of a persons dreams coming true – I said to him that I had just got into the philosophy of the secret and would be living in the Bahamas one day.

I went to visit my sister in Cape Town and while waiting for the late one-time return flight sat next to a quiet man and find out we too live around the corner from each other in Pretoria and plan to meet up for coffee – he had just been to Simonstown where he anchors his yacht. We developed a close friendship. He needed to get the Yacht out of the water and into dry docks in Hout Bay for a clean up – I decided to take a weeks leave and involve myself in the project.
The week was amazing . I love water. My family – living in Harrismith, ten minutes from Sterkfontein Dam, went skiing every weekend in the summer………I had never sailed but I had a book and learned some important knots and I loved the boat and everthing that went with it.


The porta Loo didn’t phase me after years of Polo Tournaments where you’d see a line of women – some even with wide brimmed hats waiting in a line outside these temporary igloos – the fact that I had to climb down the 40 rung ladder in the beginning did make my legs weak but by the end of the week was up and down that ladder balancing coffee tea and food on one hand while holding with the other and only using every fourth rung.

I moved scaffolding and leaned over backward at 3 meters high to scrape off barnacles. I helped to paint on the toxic anti-fowling. A beautiful blue keel resulted – the rudder was removed and the prop was sanded gently – shiney smooth copper was replaced lovingly. Stop-cocks were cleaned, sanded, greased and replaced.
I learned so much, stretching myself – I was used to the soft comforts of luxury but never as happy as in that sweating, hard working, grimy-nailed, rough hands week in the Hout Bay Dry Docks.

At the end of June I was retrenched from the Web Job in Johannesburg.
The day after that I lost my Pilates venue and so my Pilates income.

I was determined not to feel low and started to crochet a bag for my daughter at varsity and the WAR charity ladies were interested to learn. I taught them to crochet and the excitement of a possible new project bouyed me for a while – When my daughter came to me to show me what she’d picked up and put on her ankle, I wondered if the vision of 200 ladies making bags was going to become a reality? A beautiful beaded ankle bracelet with a butterfly on it!

My divorce is dragging and I sank into a dark hole.
I took out so many videos from the local video store that Kenny, the owner and I became friends – The blue Butterfly – was in my bag and I made my way home.

Adrian, a concerned friend skyped and I told him that at least I was about to watch a movie about a miracle! His reply “Oh, but your miracle has been on back order – it will be arriving soon!” sent cold shivers throughout my body and after the movie felt a little in a trance-like state – oh my word….something is happening here.

I dreamed that I woke up with a heavy wooden door lying on top of me – all I could do was move my finger and pushed open the copper letter flap. I saw bright light and in breaststroke mode swam through the letter flap and out into the sun with outstretched arms on a green grass verge looking at a blue butterfly flying away.

“Mom go to gran” from my daughter and “go to your mom and come and visit me” from Margie a good friend – only problem being that my mom stays in Harrismith and I was nervous to return. The fact that my husband is in New Zealand on holiday with my son made it possible and I got in my car for the journey south.

This felt like David and Goliath.

Coming back to a place that I’d fled from. Everyone saw me as a deserter.
It was cathartic.
I was led to a friend in Pietermaritzberg, Cheryl had said – “get on a cruise ship as a Pilates instructor- and work while you sail around the Islands until court date – that way Bahamas can be a reality” – My court date is Feb 2010 - I think it’s a brilliant idea – so my cv is on the cruise ship job sites.

I remembered old friends Cliff and Penny Freeman and decided to look them up. We had a tea and I updated Penny with the strange way my life was unfolding. My mind is open to all possibilities, my spirit is lifted, all things are possible – I won’t try and work out the details or try and make sense with my head – I have to follow with my heart.
Penny sent me an sms this morning about your blog – Karen and Dick “Butterfly and Barnacle” – I was blown away – in the Bahamas !

I’m not sure how you fit into my story but now you’re part of my miracle and my new life and this excites me – maybe I’ll meet you on a stop-over while working on a cruise ship –
Somewhere in the future I’ll join the dots and then will see the whole picture and who knows maybe it’s a butterfly……but I’ll keep you posted.

I joined the Brooklyn library and was keen to catch up on my old time favourite Roald Dahl and also found – Emotional Alchemy – the blue butterfly on the cover drew me and the book was life changing!

My fortune cookie reads…………Love is like a butterfly…..it flies where it pleases and pleases where it flies.
A friend reminded me the other day to always remember that a butterfly goes through a metamorphosis. Not always comfortable and that I am in the throes of change.

I have been inspired to create my own blog and can't tell you the release it has brought me to get the stories out in the open. One day we'll know.

Until then, best regards
Mandy

Rhapsody's

So where do I go in Pretoria to meet people, to dance, laugh, chat, flirt, stand in a thick crowd of people, smiling with a drink in my hand ?

Rhapsody’s.

The name in itself conjures visions of rapture, delight, ecstasy and makes one hopeful.

Rhapsody’s.

The place where all the over forty singles go to look cool, be seen, hang out .(No. they don’t give you a T-Shirt!)

Rhapsody’s.

I look at anyone who’s been and know they have a social life, they have friends, lots of friends.
These people always seem taller than me, larger than life, popular and with it.
So this is my mission, my goal, to be able to say that I’ve been.
I swish into the parking lot as if I’ve been here plenty and saunter in straight up to the bar counter.

A young man approaches, a sweet smile, his head tilted – condescending.
I ask him if I can order a drink – he says yes of course – he looks confused – he ask where I’m sitting.Nowhere, I’ll be at the pub if that’s ok?

When I dig out my purse and press toward the counter he gets the message and pulls his head in a strange way that makes me think he must have hurt his neck, but he’s smirking, so it can’t be painful.

I boldly order a tonic and soda and the guy grabs two glasses with ice – no, no, mix the tonic and soda in one glass – oh, he says, with eyebrows raised and then a little frown ?

I feel like buying cigarettes to give myself something cool to do, but decide rather to jab my straw into the ice and fiddle around in my glass for a while –

Then I turn my back and lean against the counter , smiling to myself as I send a few sms’s (as if I have a very busy and interesting life)

I smile at Owen’s one word answer as if he’s told me very long and interesting story and reply with a very long and interesting story.

Then I sms Henk and make plans for a Pilates lesson with a look on my face that says I am loved, I have a lover, and I’m getting very sexy messages.

Anyway after arranging my life via sms and exhausting all facial expressions on my list that belie the fact that I feel like a total idiot, I waft out, head held high.

At home I console myself with marie biscuit sarmies slathered together with smooth butter.

Good Weekend?

It’s all I have to mutter nonchalantly,
“Rhapsody’s”

And I too have friends, a rocking social life and don’t I seem just a little taller ?