10 Minute Shopping, Walking into a dream, Soon

Time to beat my thoughts into order!

My three thinks for today are:

10 Minute Shopping - It can be done!! I am proud to report that I somehow managed to choose, fit and buy two bikinis for summer in 10 minutes flat.

Now, now. Lower your eyebrows, lady with the doubtful look on your face. I wouldn’t have believed it either. Usually, bikini shopping for me consists of about two weeks of rifling through magazines and peeking through shop windows, trying to scope out what I like. This is followed by careful calculations, taking into account: my budget, my holiday destination, whether I can mix the bikini with my beachwear, and my current hair colour. Yes, it’s incredibly shallow, but I know I’m not the only one who does this… So take your tsk-tsking somewhere else.

After I’ve decided what I want, I go searching different shops and malls for The One. It takes an average of about four trips before I find what I’m looking for. Suffice to say this whole process annoys my husband endlessly.

So yesterday, in my lunch-time, I go shopping with The Man for a few clothes for him when I am offered the chance to buy myself a bikini at the end of it. With that prospect looming, I rush the poor man through hundreds of shirts and shorts, bombarding him with options and urging him to make decisions. With ten minutes left on the clock, I abandon him outside the shop to deal with his spinning head while I go off, running at full speed and careening around the corners.

In the shop I locate the bikini rail and scan through the colours – skipping anything too bright, frilly or flowery. I find two options, and yelp ecstatically when they fit perfectly. Flying past the till and through the door, I find hubby at the car – shocked and wide-eyed at my crazy appearance.

Mission accomplished.

Walking into a Dream - In an interview with George RR Martin, he explains how he felt when he walked onto the set of Game of Thrones for the first time.

“It’s like walking into one of my dreams.”

What an honour. So few authors ever get the chance to see their characters come to life in such a profound way. It must have been so emotional for him. But it also says so much about him as a writer – having the skill to describe a character or place, and to convey an atmosphere in such a way that readers can clearly see it in their minds… It’s a craft and he is surely a master of it. The fact that the set portrayed what he saw in his imagination is nothing less than a tip o’ the hat to his talent. I hope I will be able to write like that one day.
Here's the link to the interview:

Game of Thrones - Book to Screen

Soon -

“Still Round the corner there may wait,

A new road or a secret gate.

And though I oft have passed them by,

A day will come at last when I

Shall take the hidden paths that run

West of the moon, East of the Sun.”

-          The Walking Song, JRR Tolkien
So many places to see, so many adventures to embark on. Soon.

At this point in time I am conflicted with so many dreams, ideas and goals, that I find my mind bouncing from one topic to another without pattern or plan. Not such a bad place to be, as long as I do something about it.

Holiday Countdown, It's Alive!, Scuba Diving

Seeing as it's on my mind so much, I've decided to include a permanent little spot in my three thinks, dedicated to my book. This is for the duel purpose of sharing my progress and keeping me sane.

This said, my three thinks for today are:

Holiday Countdown - This morning I woke up with the astonishing, mind-blowing, attitude-changing realisation that I will be on holiday within a month!  That means scalding hot sand and ice cream on the beach; cold fruit salads for lunch, and walking barefoot in town with a ‘so what’ expression on my face. For those of you outside of SA, I remind you that December means SUMMER!!!!! I cannot wait to get my tan on and walk confidently to the water’s edge – only to throw my hands in the air and retreat, screaming, as the first cold wave touches my shins.

And Christmas!! Oh yeah!! Leg of Impala, sweet potatoes, malvapoeding for dessert…(Note to self: do not drool on laptop again.)

I can already see myself: lying on the beach, reading fluffy chicklit and planning my day only as far as the next meal. In the spirit of all this I have already painted my toenails a shocking pink: Summer Here I Come!

It's Alive! - Now, please do not think me weird/mental/schizophrenic, but it feels like the characters in my book have taken on a life of their own. The other night I was writing blissfully, when one of my male characters fell off a hedge. 

I kid you not.

I did not plan this!! He was supposed to leap over all knight-like and sexy, and off he goes rolling in the dust like an idiot. Surprised at his little mishap, I sat back, aghast.

To make matters worse, my other two female characters found this hilariously funny and would not stop laughing no matter what I did to shut them up. Refusing my supposed control over them, they just stood there: snickering and mocking.

Eventually, I got them to calm down and resume sub ordinance, but then I started laughing. Like a maniac. At my own characters.

The thing is, each character has been so fully developed in my mind: with their own likes and dislikes; habits and personalities - that they sort of take care of their own behaviour now. They are leading me on how they react, what they do and what happens to them.

To be honest, it’s quite entertaining. Mwahahahahaha.

Scuba Diving - Hell no. No way. Not enough money in the world. 

Not quite sure how to pinpoint the exact moment when I developed a mortal fear for encountering a tiny fish in its territory, but I have narrowed it down to about three incidents:

-         -  Being manhandled by a monitor lizard in our backyard pool when I was 6,

-         -  Having my flipper caught in something when the water was too murky for me to see what it was (age 10),

-          - Seeing some massive thing outlined in phosphor in the water, at night, in a lake in Mozambique (quite recent).

I cannot think of anything worse than swimming down into the depths with things peeking out at you from under rocks, gliding over you or bumping into you. And it’s not even the shark thing – seriously! Not afraid of them! I just hate the lack of perspective and the feeling that something out there is watching you. I even hyperventilated once when a fishy the size of my thumb bumped into my mask. Not cool.

I know it’s completely irrational and stupid; that people do it every day and that I’m 'missing out' on a whole world – but really: for the no-nonsense person that I am, I think I am allowed this one small irrationality.

Get geared-up and psyched-up for your holidays (whether it's snowy or unbearably hot), create something of your own - and allow yourself a little craziness. Of the misunderstood fear kind. Not the banging your head against the padded wall kind.

Blackouts, Waiting, Linkin Park

I know, I know. It has been months since I've blogged. I get it. Just for the record, it's not like I decided not to. It just kind of... happened.

Regardless, here are my three thinks for the day:

Blackouts - So last night I get home early due to a miraculous lapse in traffic. Hubby is off to a diving course and I’m home alone. Mischievously, I rub my hands together, trying to decide what I want to do first. So many possibilities! I start making up a list in my head: watch all the programs I recorded; paint nails; make killer sandwich; take long bath; watch series on laptop; work on book… Afraid that I won’t get to everything, I launch into super-speed and start building my dinner: a grilled cheese, ham and jalapeno sandwich.

Just as I pop it into the grill, sudden blackness descends. My first reaction is to scream, but I bite it back just in time when I realise that it’s just a blackout and that I did not, in fact, go instantly blind. I calm myself down and take in my surroundings (pointless). Luckily, the grill was hot, so I manage to cook a decent enough ‘wich. But now what? Just as I start looking for candles (and by ‘looking’ I mean bumping into things and tripping over a mysterious cable), the lights come on!! Yay!! Frantically, I start running around, trying to make up for lost time. I set up my laptop in bed and take a first bite of my dinner as I listen cheerfully to Windows starting up. 

Blackness. Again.

I choke a little on a jalapeno, part surprise and part annoyance. Seeing as my laptop’s battery has been nothing but a decoration for years, it goes off immediately. Dammit!  I scramble for candles again and manage to find a strangely skew one that’s leaning over the side of the holder. Fine, it’ll do.

Just as I sit down to finally eat… LIGHT!!!! Oh joy! I jump up and hurriedly put on my pj’s, put the candle away, start up the laptop again and settle down. 

Dark. 

“You have got to be kidding me!” I shout, effectively peeving off about four neighbourhood dogs. And that was it. My whole plan gone. Sad and all alone, I eat my (now cold) dinner by crooked candlelight. Afterward, I realise I have nothing left to do, so I go to bed. Two hours later; hubby comes home, lights go back on, and he whistles merrily as he heats up food in the microwave and watches TV in the background. Hmph.

Waiting - I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew it was not going to be ideal, easy or glamorous. I knew it would be a lonely road, having to depend on myself. No-one can do it for me. I have to learn, improve, hone, focus and be creative – by myself. But the reality is a lot more intimidating. I am still writing my fantasy novel, pushing through every chance I get. I am contacting publishers. I am sending samples to agents. I am hoping and praying every day. Can it just happen, though? I hate having to wait, doubting myself and going through my proposals again and again, wondering if I could have done something differently. It’s strenuous, draining, scary. I read over my work again, assuring myself that it is perfect – that I would have written it in exactly the same way if I had to go back. But I still doubt myself. Why is it taking so long?

Can’t it just happen like in the movies, with some PA of the Editor coming across my manuscript as it lays discarded under the fax machine, and then reading it and fighting for it until they contact me out of nowhere with a three book deal? 

Guess there’s nothing to it but to keep going. I can create and mold my Fantasy novel, but in ‘the real world’ I can’t do anything but wait. And trust.

Linkin Park - Oh my word. I cannot even begin to describe how awesome the concert was. We went to watch in Johannesburg on Saturday and, upon arriving at the stadium, I knew I was back with ‘my people’: black nails, raucous laughter, army boots and 90 minute queues for beer. The energy in the crowd was something indescribable: hyped-up, friendly, excited. Two hours before the band even peeked out, thousands of people were doing a Mexican Wave; shouting, clapping and threatening to throw each other over the rails on the stairs. When the Kongos opened, the crowd was already close to bursting – and the energy just kept building. All of a sudden, Jack Parow jumps on stage out of nowhere and people go off like a collective siren! Amazing to think that he came on unannounced and that everyone knew who he was – he must have had to change his pants afterward. 

When the band finally did appear in the back corner of the stage, I thought the stadium was going to implode. The noise was astounding! I don’t think I will ever see something like that again and I sure as heck will never forget it. The crowd sang along to e-v-e-r-y word and jumped and swayed in unison. It felt so good to be all studded-out and eye-lined, headbanging and screaming my lungs out – haven’t done that in years! And the South African flag on stage…(tear). That was one of the best experiences of my life – now an even bigger fan.

Keep hoping and moving along, go crazy every once in a while and remember to keep PROPER candles around. Life is too short to be scraping off dripped wax from your carpet.

And leave comments! I get back to you whenever I can!

Falling, Writing, Tiny Tents

Wow, these past two months have been hectic! Been pushing to get my book published and writing said manuscript like a maniac. Anyway, right to it. My three thinks for the day are:

Falling - And I refer to this in the most mundane way possible. I am not talking about falling in love, falling in debt or even falling into the abyss that is your mind. I am talking about the simple act of missing a step or tripping on a shoelace and then hitting the ground in full force. It may seem cruel, but I cannot help but find it funny when people fall. The act is so human - all sense of dignity is lost and any trace of status goes out the window. All that is left is air, gravity and ground. No-one is immune to it.
I do, however, have a theory about it. I think there are two categories that we can...ahem...fall into. You are either very clumsy and find yourself tripping over things on a regular basis, without any too serious injuries... Or you only have about seven or eight spectacular falls throughout your life. I find myself in the second category.
I have a good sense of balance and I have always prided myself on the fact that I am almost "untippable". Two nights ago, though, we were sharing stories and I suddenly realised that was not quite true. I don't have as many stories, but they are pretty fantastic.
Exhibit A: I broke both my arms exactly one year apart from each other, in exactly the same way. On Valentine's weekend when I was 13, a friend and I were playing on the swings in a nearby park. Chains broke, I went flying and came up with one arm skewer than the other. My dad was not impressed. Then, on Valentine's weekend at the age of 14, we went camping. My best friend and I sneaked off so we wouldn't have to help in setting up. We found a rope swing hanging from a tree on top of a hill... I swung. Rope snapped. I flew. Came back to camp with my other arm doubling over on itself. My dad was even less impressed.
Exhibit B: In my final year at university, I came running out of the library (late for class - again). There were these little spinning turn stall thingies (at perfect upper leg height) that you had to go through, which opened when you swiped your student card. I came running at full speed, holding my card outstretched in front of me for a quick escape. The exit I chose, however, was broken. So I swiped in the running, only to collide with the barrier and somersault right over it, papers and books raining down in the lobby. I could barely walk for a week.
Exhibit C: Walking back from town when I was still in school, bags full of snacks and new books and shampoo, I was singing to myself and daydreaming (as you do) on my way back to hostel. Stepped onto sidewalk. Foot went onto concrete, shoe went underneath into drain. Cue catapult action with parcels shooting overhead and me falling flat on my face. After lying there for a few moments, I looked up to see the oranges I'd bought rolling on down the street and a vindictive 10-year old crushing my Oreos with his bicycle, laughing his head off.
Point taken?

Writing - If you've been following my blog, you'll have noticed how I refer to the book I'm writing from time to time. It's part of a Fantasy series that I'm aiming to complete within the next five years or so. Been working on it for a few years already, and it's finally at the point where publishers are having a look at it. I find the whole thing so unreal. I've always wanted to write, ever since the librarians started greeting me by name and my 'friends' laughed at me in my face when I suggested browsing through a bookstore (stuff 'em). Anyway, it had always been more of a pipe-dream, something I'd do when I retired. I made a few attempts at writing, as a hobby, but nothing quite stuck. Then, this idea started brewing in my head. I started dreaming of the story at night and eventually I couldn't get my mind off it at all. And so it began. It has brought so much joy, so much peace, to my life and I know that this is what I want to do. I am loving every step of the journey. Will keep you posted.

Tiny Tents - This is something that happened about 4 years ago. We've shared the story over and over and it's one of the most memorable moments in our friendship, so I decided to immortalise it. When we were still studying, my husband (boyfriend at that time), his best friend, my bff and I were spending the December holidays together. Now remember, in Africa this is high summer. For new years' eve, we decided to go camping somewhere - anywhere. We divided the packing responsibilities amongst ourselves: I was in charge of food and drink, Lina sorted the bedding, Hubby took care of all things fire and Pees was to bring the tent. We had made no reservations (as usual), so we just bunched into the car and headed out into the bushveld, not sure where we'll end up.
After driving around for hours (and fighting over every place we found), we finally settled on a deserted spot next to a random river. Perfect. His Manliness started the fire and I gave out drinks. We laughed and joked and swam and braai'ed our 1kg steaks (yeah) until it grew dark. Then it started.
When the meat was ready, I realised I'd never packed cutlery or plates. Oops. No worries, though, the cooler box served as a perfectly good plate for the four of us. Midnight came and we greeted the new year loud and proud - by chasing away the baboons from our food. Finally, we grew sleepy enough to pitch the tent. Pees unloaded it and set it up by himself within a matter of minutes - because he'd accidentally packed the 2-man tent. We bickered over it, but fatigue won and we braved the tiny tent. So there we were, squashed in on our sides, all four of us on the hard ground - because Lina had forgotten ALL THE BEDDING. No pillows, no foam mattress, not even one blanket. After grunting and shoving each other, we were almost comfortable when the one side of the tent gave in and Himself was nearly smothered by the nylon. We'd pushed his face right into the material and from outside, he now looked like an orc being born. Fighting for air and going into a complete frenzy, he sprang out of the tent and marched to the car. I went after him, thinking he might have a good idea. Settling down in the front seats, relieved that we could stretch out, we were met by the Number One annoying sound in the world: mosquitoes. An entire swarm had moved into the car and attacked at the same time. Horrified, we jumped out and ran back to the tent, almost pulverising the other two as we squashed back in.
After a while, we started laughing. We threw a last few insulting comments at each other, and closed our eyes. That's friendship.

Don't take yourself too seriously, follow your instincts and embrace your maddening friends. They're the ones who'll laugh at, and with you.

WHAM, Gardening, African Thunderstorms

Right, off we go again. I finally have internet at home - Yay!

My three thinks for today are:

WHAM - Not the band. Not the Roy Lichtenstein either. The moment. The one where a wall just hits you out of nowhere and everything just crashes down around you. I've hit a few of these in my life. Usually, I go through certain phases in order to cope with the disaster. First off I find myself to be numb for a few days as the reality of what happened slowly seeps in. Then follows a week of solitude, where I sit. And think. But mostly sit.
After this, I usually seek solace from a friend or two. I cry, they cry, but nothing productive comes from it. About two weeks after the incident I will most likely go through my Angry Phase. This could go on for weeks, even months. Somewhere during my time as Madame Moody, I will start to pick up the pieces again (more out of annoyance than self-motivation). Once the picture starts to clear again, I will be able to move on and see the bright side to whatever happened.
Not this time, though. This time was different. Let me count the ways. To begin with, I saw this coming. There were warning signs all over (of varying intensity). Two days before I even said that I suspected something was up. When the wall finally hit, I was actually relieved that it wasn't something else. It was still ridiculous and completely unfair, but I was prepared. As I drove home that afternoon, I literally laughed all the way. The next day, I got up and DID SOMETHING ABOUT IT. I immediately started to fight back. My husband, my friends and my family are all behind me, and that goes a long way. For the first time in my life, the wall didn't break me. It passed right through me - unpleasant, but not fatal. By grace, I do not have to pick up the pieces of my life all over again - because I never dropped them in the first place.

Gardening - Who knew I'd enjoy this? I have never planted anything, so when my husband suggested redoing our garden, I laughed like he was making a joke and returned to watching the rerun of Two and a Half Men. Realising he was serious, I reluctantly followed him out into the garden and made knowing nods whenever he said something like "compost" or "seasonal growth". The next day, I found myself in a nursery, looking at pebbles and water features and bored koi fish. Somewhere between the lavender and the aloe, I suddenly began enjoying myself. This was fun! We planned (i.e. argued) out the garden and set to work. I was kitted out in gloves and a shovel, and off I went. We dug, we pulled, we watered and we weeded - until we were left with an oddly empty-looking back yard. It took us two days and all we had to show for it were a few tiny trees and a baby lavender bush. Just as I was about to get dismayed, though, I remembered that they would all g-r-o-w. Revelation. I'm proud of our little misshapen garden and I can't wait for it to blossom into its' full chaotic splendor. I found a new hobby, seems like.

African Thunderstorms - I started writing this post bathing in sunshine. The day was clear and stunning. Halfway through, the house turned dark, the birds stopped singing and I could hear the wind sprinting in through the canyon, down the field and toward our tiny helpless home. Thunder clapped, my cat screamed, the garage door flew open, my washing picked up and left for the house next door and our dustbin came rolling by me all nonchalant. I ran from one point to the other, closing windows and trying to coax the stupid cat to let go of my leg. Now, ten minutes later, I'm completely drenched, everything has either fallen over or left the house and the storm has passed. There's nothing like sudden chaos to get you going. African Thunderstorms. Man, I love them.

To end off, I just want to say thank you to everyone who has been sticking by me the last two weeks. Here's to you.

New Look

Right, I added an email button. Type in your email address and submit to receive my posts via email. The picture at the top left will change every now and then, according to my mood for that week. My most popular posts are now also displayed, with little snippets from them. The archive can now be found near the bottom of the page. Let me know what you think of the changes and if you have any suggestions!

Sketching, Being a DJ, Early Mornings

Apparently, the "email this" button isn't working. I'll add a new button which allows you to have my posts sent to your email address. Hopes this helps.. Let me know if there's anything else you'd like me to add by leaving a comment.

Now, with the admin out of the way, my three thinks for today are:

Sketching - What a soothing hobby. I spent the whole day sketching while I was working yesterday, and the day just flew past. I go through phases, artwise. For a few months, I do nothing but sketch. Then I paint for the rest of the year. Painting has a magic of its' own, but for now I seem to be in my sketch phase. Best part is, you don't have to be particularly good at it. You can always erase your mistakes or burn the evidence. Imagine life could be that easy. Without going down that philosophical route, though, I suggest you try it. Your options are wide open, too. If a colleague annoys you, do a Michelangelo and pay tribute to them in form of an unflattering sketch. Michelangelo famously added Biagio da Cesena to the fresco Last Judgement in the Sistine Chapel. Cesena complained that the work was too risqué for the Vatican, so Michelangelo painted him as the Gatekeeper of the Underworld, with ridiculous donkey ears to boot. The Vatican's old Master of Ceremonies is now immortalised as an idiot. Told you it was great to sketch at work.

Being a DJ - I had the privilege to work in the radio industry for close to 5 years. I worked at small community stations, and massive commercial ones, but they are in essence all the same. I ran a local station's breakfast show for over a year, which was the best time of all. There's something loose and crazy about that slot - you can do anything you want (apart from setting the studio on fire and swearing at the government on air, à la Mark Esterhuysen). Some of my best memories include: pulling some guys off the street as they were coming out of the gym, and making them sing after the news bulletin; pranking a local student dormitory and getting them to evacuate for no reason; accidentally singing along to a Mika song when I forgot to put the mic off and having the sms lines flood with sarcastic comments; and going to work in my pj's (that was probably the best). However, I've had some questionable experiences, too. I once walked in on the graveyard DJ as he was passed out on the floor, cradling a bottle of Jack Daniels. He'd left a Placebo song on repeat and listeners were A-N-G-R-Y. There's no beating the thrill, though. Your sole purpose as a DJ is to make people happy. It always amazed me to think that I had the opportunity to add a smile to someone's day, eventhough I'll never meet them and they could be 100km's away. I really, really miss it. But, I believe in seasons. Right now, I'm moving into a new season where I feel I want to, have to, write. I'm enjoying it a lot, but every now and then, I miss the instant satisfaction of having my voice heard exactly when I want. Here's the link to the Mark Esterhuysen clip. Shocking, with a lot of swearing (I did warn you), but don't you envy him just a little?

Angry News Reader

Early Mornings - I've mentioned previously that I need to leave the house at 05:20 every morning to be at work on time. I'm not a morning person. At all. I grumble and moan, squinting at the light. My feet feel like they can't bend when I get up too early and I often find myself wobbling around the house, my hair sticking in all directions. Pretty picture, huh? That said, I must now solemnly admit that I am getting used to this getting-up-in-the-dark thing. I am even beginning to like it. No promises, though, but I'll keep you updated.

Rugby Fans, Rainy Days, Mythical Creatures

And we're right back where we started, at the beginning of another week. At least it's going to be a short one (gotta love public holidays).

With the weekend at my back, my three thinks for today are:

Rugby Fans - I don't get them. Now now, settle down, I didn't insult you, I just mentioned the group as a whole. Not that I don't get the sport, I think it's great and many of my friends are married to players, or players themselves. I think sport in general is a wonderful thing. However, I have a slight problem with it when it becomes a religion. In South Africa, there is a definitive rugby culture, especially under Afrikaans people. Once again, that's fine, but when you see a video of a 4-year old bawling his eyes out and telling his mum he no longer wants to live because his team lost - now that's scary. And it's like they don't grow out of it. Which part of the word 'spectator' do these guys not understand? You have grown men running afield and tackling referees, or throwing players of the opposing team with bottles. It's disgusting and it teaches bad sportmanship. Sport is fun to watch and there is a real sense of camaraderie between fans of the same team, but must you really paint your car in the team colours and name your child after a player? Yes, I know, I don't get it. Yes, I know, wait til you educate me. Yes, I know, I just haven't felt the rush of the game yet. I know. Like I said, I'm not against the sport, but I am against the manic depression that fans go into when their team loses, and the wailing high they get when they win. Isn't it exhausting? Because today the Pink Ladies won, but next week they'll lose against the T-Birds, who in turn will suffer at the hands of the Scorpions in a month's time. One minute you're on top, the next you're left trampled in the mud. And no team ever remains unbeaten. Some or other time, you're going to set yourself up for disappointment. Please enjoy the sport, please get excited - I do too - but unless you are a player, a coach, a sponsor or a commentator, remember that it is not your entire life. Now go blow off some steam.

Rainy Days - Aren't they brilliant? It's the perfect excuse to not do the washing, not go into town and not give a damn. You're free to lounge about in your pj's all day and watch one series after the next on your laptop. Junk food is at the top of the menu, and you don't even feel guilty about it. A rainy morning is like a free pass to be as absolutely useless as you possibly can - no consequence. Except when you're at work. Which I am.

Mythical Creatures - Dragons. Werewolves. Mermaids. Elves. Orcs. Urgals. Trolls. Dwarves. Werecats. Unicorns. Nymphs. Banshees. Centaurs. Fawns. Krakens. Hobbits. Fairies. Minotaurs. Monsters. Giants. Deities. Sirens. Wraiths. Pegasus'. Gargoyles. And Bigfoot. Don't tell me you don't find at least one of them interesting.

Not too much on my mind, seems like. Get swept up (not swept away), live in your imagination every once in a while and enjoy those pyjama days (except at the office - it's frowned upon).

Man Movies, Mindless Intertainment, That Koppie

It's officially weekend (OK, it's 12:00, but still)!

With that in mind, my three thinks for today are:

Man Movies: OK, I'll admit, I enjoy them. We went to see the new Mark Wahlberg flim, Contraband, last night and I completely loved it. It had suspense and a lolt of twists and the action was great. I'm a sucker for war movies, too. Not the Saving Private Ryan type, but Troy and Gladiator and Braveheart and The Lord of the Rings. I cannot get enough of swordfights and battle tactics. I can watch the scene where Achilles kills Hector over and over again (besides from the Brad Pitt factor). It must be my love of fantasy and history combined, because all my girlfriends yawn and fastforward through those parts. My favourite Man Movie Moments of All Time are:
- Where Danny Archer explains the term TIA (This Is Africa) to the journalist in Blood Diamond
- Where Maximus says "My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius, Commander of the Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions, loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife, and I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next" in Gladiator.
- Where Strider jumps off the boat with a smug smile and starts running toward the orcs, a ghost army appearing behind him in The Return of the King.
- The final scene in Ocean's Eleven where they're standing at the fountain as rich men.
I could go on, but I think you get the picture. I'm all for bombs and wars and great kings. I watch them as I paint my toenails.

Mindless Internet Entertainment- Don't act like you've never fallen for it. You start off by looking for a university course you're interested in taking, and you end up watching people falling off swings. There's just too much dumb stuff to keep you busy. And clicking on one thing, leads to clicking on another. While downloading a game, you notice a quiz and after finishing that you post the results on facebook, only to see the link to a video of a duck blowing bubbles. You cannot escape it. So just give in to it and let the hours pass freely. Here's a link to a cute website with mindless games to start you off:

Mindless Intertainment

That Koppie - Firstly, a "koppie" is the Afrikaans word for a small hill that is made up of rocks and boulders. We have many of them in the bushveld and they're great for picnics and watching game. There's one koppie, though, that I cannot get out of my head. My hubby's family has a farm on the border of SA and Zimbabwe. This farm is so close to my heart (for various reasons) and I'm actually getting emotional as I'm writing this, so I'll try to cut it short. Part of the farm crosses over no-man's land into Zim, and just across the border, there's a koppie that looks over the Limpopo river. I remember the first time that I climbed up to it. We arrived late in the afternoon and the sun was just setting. When I got up there, the red African sun was at my back and the shallow river was gleaming orange in the light. The wind died and the smell of dust and roots was rising up from the ground. It was completely silent, except for the sound of a hippo grunting somewhere upriver. There, in that moment, I felt utterly at peace. It's the place I go to in my head whenever things get too hectic for me. My heart calls out for that koppie. The farm is inaccessible to us right now (let's not go into it), but I know I will go back there someday. Someday.

Once again, thanks for reading my blog. I'm getting messages and feedback, and it's great!

Don't be ashamed of watching Man Movies or Chick Flicks, forgive yourself for spending so much time on the internet and regularly escape to your happy place. Life's too short.

Tattoos, Moving House, Cat Fights

Firstly, my humblest of apologies for having not posted in a week. I could go into all the chaos that surrounded me, but I'll just apologise and move on.

Let's get right into it, before my brain expands any more from the pent-up thoughts that have set up camp in my head the past week.

My three thinks for today are:

Tattoos - I'm a huge fan. I started off like everyone else, promising myself that I would only get one... Yeah right, what a joke. Once you start, there's no way you'll stop. The thing is, tattoos are no longer reserved for sailors, bikers and miners. The stigma around body art has completely turned around the last decade or so. It's accessible now - you can get one on your lunch-break at the nearest mall. My opinion is, just do it. I'm not saying you should impulsively tattoo a toiletpaper roll on your forehead at 02:00 in the morning when everything is funny, but if you've had the idea for a while and it's something you really want - do it. And yes, I've heard all the arguments: it will go blue when you're old (myth - the inks they use now hold their colour, as opposed to the inks of 30 years ago); it's permanent and what if you don't like it anymore in a few years (that's the difference between a good tattoo and a dumb tattoo - if it means something to you now, it still will in years to come); it won't suit you when you're older (well I don't plan on walking around with my lower back showing at the age of 75); it's hard to remove (why consider one if you're already planning on removing it); and the classic - it hurts (yes, but only for the hour or so that you are sitting for it). I would much rather get tattoos now, while I'm young and can enjoy them, then cover them up as I grow older, than grow old and regret that I never did it while I was young. And here's a cool thought, compliments of a full colour leaf-and-vine-covered friend of mine: it's strange to see an old person with a tattoo now, because it was not the norm in their day, but in 60 years' time, there'll be an entire generation of inked geriatrics! An awesome thought.

Moving house - I've done this A LOT. In my humble 24 years, I have moved house 22 times. And the habit is seemingly sticking. New places, new people, new sights and sounds... It's great and I know we'll keep doing it. The only problem is the process. Looking for a house is a stressful and tedious operation which entails owners who want to rip you off and you having to smile politely when viewing a dirty little hole in someone's backyard. When you find your little dream house, though, you're excited and brimming over with plans for the guest bedroom. Then comes the full realisation of how much crap you've accumulated when you have to start packing. Fights break out over old clothes and whether we really want to keep the yellowing computer screen that is never used. I nag my husband about his collection of rocks (I love them, but there's just too much) and get berated over the space my shoes are taking up (I keep all my shoes in their original boxes with labelling so I can stack them up in the back of my closet). After a week of debates and emotional goodbyes to old items, we finally get everything packed and ready to load.
Now this part holds an entire new set of challenges. Suddenly the massive trailer you booked has shrunk to a puny excuse and you have to make peace with the fact that you'll have to make two or three trips. The more stuff you load, the more stuff there is. The physical loading part also has its own dangers...
The last time we moved, my husband had to carry out an old TV set to the trailer. The cable and plug was trailing on the ground as he walked (see where I'm going with this?). Inevitably, he stepped on the upturned plug with his bare feet (ouch), which caused the cable to pull tight. Long story short, he nearly knocked his teeth out on the very TV he was carrying. I heard the clash and when I got outside, he was weaving across the driveway, still holding the set, with his eyes completely glazed over. Almost lost him there for a moment! Later that same day, he stepped on the heel of one of my shoes (woops), with his other foot. When he arrived at work on Monday, he had a swollen lip and he was limping around the office - without any manly excuses for his injuries!
In the end, though, I love moving around. I cannot imagine living in the same house, much less the same town for all my life. Just not me.

Cat fights - As I just mentioned, we moved recently, and for the first time in his little life, my cat had to learn to share a neighborhood with other felines. At first he was timid and wouldn't leave my side, completely unsure about his peers. Within the first week, though, he won a fight and suddenly his attitude changed. Now, you have to understand, my cat is not normal. He is a cross between a domestic and a wild African cat - he has stripes on his back and spots on the rest of his body and he is notably larger than other housecats. Apparently, he never knew about these advantages, until the other cats in the 'hood started running from him and hiding behind their owners whenever he strutted down the street. So he became a brawler. Night after night he went looking for trouble, stealing the others' food and chasing them down only to cream them under a bush. I tried to discipline him. I talked to him, trying to make him see sense. I warned him and had hubby have a sit-down with him, but to no avail. His ego became too big to fit through the front door, so he started to stay away from home. When he finally did appear, he would walk in with his feet casually dragging behind him, ears thrown back and eyes all squinty. All he needed was sunglasses and a leather jacket and we could have called him "Donny". Until last week.
We came home to find him curled up on the couch - which had become a strange occurrence. He sprang up and greeted us, all purs and smiles, talking loudly about how glad he was to see us. When he looked up, it all made sense. His face was covered in scratches and his ear was standing at an odd angle. His entire right side was full of scabs. He had met his match. I don't know which cat dented his ego, but I'm grateful. I no longer have to apologise to my neighbours and I'm not kept up at night by squeeling cats. The Furry One is his friendly self once more.

Before I end of for the day, I noticed that a big part of my audience is emerging from Turkey...Merhaba! Thanks for reading my blog! Feel free to comment and I'll get back to you.

Now, get that tattoo (the good one, not the dumb one), change your scenery regularly and don't be too hard on the men in your house (doesn't matter which species).

Hairdresser's Basins, Silence, The Washing

Yesterday was a public holiday - man did I need the break. I did my hair and read my book and cleaned the house and went shopping... And now it's back to work.

So, without much ceremony, here are my three thinks for the day:

Hairdresser's Basins - Since I was a child I've dreaded the part where the hairdresser makes you go through to the basin to have your hair washed. More often than not, the seat is way too low or the basin way too high, so you're left either standing on your toes or hanging by your ears. The space where your head should go is always so narrow that you fear death by squashing and the first blast of water ALWAYS GOES IN YOUR EARS. Really not the best part of the experience - until yesterday. I decided to go slightly blonde for a change. Firstly, I was very surprised to find a hairdresser who actually listened to me and was excited by the prospect of giving me exactly what I want - which has not happened often in the past (I'll save those horror stories for another time). When she asked me to step through to the basin, I started to freeze up, but when I turned the corner and actually saw the basins, the world stopped and I could hear angels singing. The chair was slightly lifted and tilted back, in fact turning it into a mini bed. The space in the basin for your head was wide and molded and I sighed in satisfaction as I lay down in it. The lady washing my hair had turned the water on beforehand and the temperature was perfect. She kept the wash short and sweet and I actually managed to relax. What a revelation. Thanks guys, I'm definitely going back to you.

Silence - I love it. Cannot get enough of it. There is something soothing to it for me. I sometimes imagine the silence coming around me and then pressing in on me. I find it thick, heavy, and absolutely blissful. Sometimes, when I wake at night, I'll sit up and listen to it, closing my eyes and smiling like an idiot to the sound of nothingness. It's beautiful. I don't know what I'd do without it - I need it to function properly. I've mentioned before that thoughts and ideas tend to hop and bounce around in my head, all fighting for supremacy. When there's complete and utter silence, these balls of thoughts seem to stop, crouch down and hush up. Suddenly, the world makes sense again.

The Washing - Notice I put a "the" in front, as it's become an entity of its own, like "The Eiffel Tower" or "The Pyramids". Just when I think I've won, when I folded and put away the last clean shirt, I turn around to find a dirty sock peeking out from under the bed, laughing at me like a naughty child because I missed it the first time. I tell myself it's OK, that I will just throw it in the wash basket and see to it on another day - it's only one sock, after all. However, as I bend over to pick it up, my eye catches the other sock in the pair, awkwardly twisted around the foot of the bedside table. I sigh and pick that up too, trying to keep my composure. Walking to the wash basket, I spot a jersey, lying forgotten on the couch. I collect that too, still halfway calm. When I finally reach the basket, though, I find it already brimming with a muddy shirt, a dishcloth I haven't seen for ages and a wet towel. I cannot even begin to fathom where they came from. They were definitely not there two hours ago. It's inexplicable, unthinkable and incredibly demotivating. In frustration, I stuff everything down into the basket, turn and shut the door behind me. I refuse to look at the basket for days, because I'm still angry. Then, round about Day 5 (No More Underwear Day), I find my husband standing in front of his closet, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He looks at me from the corner of his eye, not sure if it would be considered wise to raise the issue. So I sigh and go to face The Washing one more time. Surely I'll beat it today.

So that's what's on my mind today. Here's to never-ending washing, a few moments of silence and covering your ears at the hairdresser's.

PS Am I the only bad housekeeper out there?

Superstores, Flat Tyres, The Giggles

Tomorrow is Human Rights Day! Yay! To celebrate, I'm going to have my hair coloured, play mindless games on the Xbox and go for a walk (maybe). It is my human right to be absolutely selfish and incredibly lazy tomorrow. Can't wait.

In the meantime, here are my three thinks for the day:

Superstores - You know the kind: where they sell everything from microwaves to toys to lawnmowers. I'm not a big fan, but my parents cannot get enough of these types of stores. I find it very amusing to watch as my dad gets snookered into buying something completely useless like a melon-ball maker or scissors that can cut a can (why?). The more enthusiastic the salesman, the more money my dad dishes out. He once came home with a bright pink knife sharpener with a handle that was too small for my big Boer of a dad to hold. I ask you. Their adventures in these stores are not limited to buying all sorts of scrap, though. We've had quite a few incidents...
My dad always wants to look at something at the very top of the highest shelf. You think you know where I'm going with this, but you're wrong. See, they had just invented remote controlled golfcarts a few years ago. My dad was eyeing these cool new gadgets that would improve his game, when he reached for the middle one in the row... They were really high up, so he could just barely touch it with a fingertip. What he didn't realise is that he'd touched the ON button. And away it flew, driving at full speed across the shelf, pushing off it's counterparts one by one. In desperation, my dad ran for the remote, only to put it in reverse gear... See? You did not expect that.
Another time, my mom tried to buy my dad a hifi system for his birthday, as a surprise. The store wouldn't allow her to buy it though, because she shared a bank account with my dad and they needed his signature. That would have ruined the surprise (obviously), so the negotiation continued. They became more adamant, she became more annoyed. One thing led to another and the next thing I know staff are climbing on ladders to spy at my angry mom and the poor manager over the shelves surrounding his office. Oi.
But my parents also do enjoy themselves. They are always trying out the latest gadgets (cue my mom ducking and diving in fright, in front of the new 3D TV screens) and my dad listening to some random CD in the audio department. They always come home full of smiles, ready to show of their new high-pressure car washer and the breadmaker they "can use every day". The bargain they are most proud of, though, is the dishwasher they got at 60% off. It was the newest one on the market and neither they nor the bewildered cashier could understand why it was so cheap. So they loaded as quickly as possible and sped off, tyres squeeling, in case the store figured out the mistake. I love them so much.

Flat Tyres - I would like to thank the municipalities of Gauteng for their determined refrain from fixing the various potholes and missing manhole covers that we find on our province's beautiful roads. I absolutely love bouncing involuntarily in time to my radio and trying to understand the hand signs of my fellows citizen as he tries to point out my latest flat tyre. I have had the joy of exactly 6 flat tyres in 5 months now, and I am so grateful. If it were not for these strategically placed potholes, I would not know the fuel station attendants by name and my journey home every day would not be filled with angst and a sense of victory when I made it safely there. Thank you, City of Johannesburg, for making every arrival an accomplishment.

The Giggles - It's one of the very best, and the very worst, feelings you could experience. Beginning to laugh uncontrollably at the exact moment when you should not. Like in church. Or school assembly. Or a meeting with the CEO. Your mind is berating you, trying to will you into submission, but your face muscles completely refuse. You cannot stop smilling to the point where your lips start quivering and you're praying for something funny to happen so you can get it out. To make it even worse, there's usually a partner in crime across the room, who smiles knowingly at you when your eyes meet. My husband and his best friend are the very worst when it comes to this. We have had to sneak out of church so many times because they simply cannot control themselves. And it's always something stupid. Like a spelling mistake on the notice board or the new pastor who stutters from nerves. Once we get outside, they double over, gasping for air, all red in their faces - and then they realise it's not so funny after all. Completely unnecessary - but oh so fun. Here's to loads more inappropriate giggles.

Those are the three things on my mind today. Remember to check your tyres regularly, always ask for assistance, and laugh whenever you can - even if it means a scolding.

Waiters, Human Spirit, Girls' Night

Coffee? Check. Rusks? Check.  Comfy chair? Check. And we’re off.

First of all, thanks to everyone who has read, and commented on, my blog. I am enjoying this so much! I will always try to answer all comments, either by commenting back or leaving a personal message within a next post. So keep ‘em coming!

Speaking of which...

Ligeia, thanks for your comment on travel and spontaneity! I agree with you completely. The very thought of staying in one place my entire life makes me gasp for air! Keep your spirit and always look for the next challenge! The part on human spirit below is specially for you...

Now, let’s get right to it. My three thinks for today are:

Waiters – My moaning session for the week. We went to a somewhat famous restaurant just outside of town yesterday. We have heard only good things about this farm style, family orientated, historic eatery, so we decided to give it a go. On arrival, we met head-on with complete chaos: kids running everywhere, dogs begging at tables, people pushing their mountain bikes between patrons and a goose screaming at a car guard. The poor manager was running in circles, shouting orders to non-responsive waiters and trying to seem calm and friendly in front of customers, though she was shaking and her hair was plastered to her head. After standing around for half an hour, we were finally seated. Then nothing. No menu arrived and the waiters acted like they couldn’t see us when we waved to get their attention. From what we could see, there were only about 5 waiters between about 150 people. About 20 minutes went by before my husband got up to fetch a menu, then another half an hour ticked away before a waiter arrived to take our order. I asked him which flavours of fruit juice they had available, then told him my choice. He took my husband’s order, and then asked me if I wanted nothing to drink. My mouth fell open. I had just had an entire conversation with the dude about fruit juice. Blacked out? I don’t know. Point is, it all went sour from there.  We were fine with everything, though it hadn’t been great, up to that point. That was just too much. Looking at me with this bored expression, giving me options and then not listening when I made my choice. Oi. Waiters really can make or break a place. I don’t think we’ll be going back.

Girls' Night - So I find myself alone at home every now and then. Tonight is going to be one of those nights. I'm kind of excited, though... I plan on working on my book for a bit, eating something simple, and then collapsing in front of the TV to watch something really soppy like Becoming Jane or Love Actually. After this I will probably miss my hubby too much and wish that I was NOT alone at home. Can't live with them...

Human Spirit - A friend of mine did a 50km run this weekend, and we decided to meet him at the finishing line. It was the first time that I have gone to a race like this as a spectator (not that I've ever gone to one as a participant, either) and I must say that I was pleasantly surprised. Kids were running across the line with their parents, there was a lively commentator who made everyone laugh, a band was playing in the background... It really was a lot of fun, not what I expected. Just as we were getting up to leave, after attempting a Mexican Wave (apparently not that kind of crowd), I spied this tiny little figure coming up the track. He was keeping a fast, steady pace, head held high, barely even sweating - and he was 82 years old. I could not believe my eyes. He was jogging across the line like it was nothing, as if he had not just run 50km under an African sun. I became all emotional then, and I'm getting all teary all over again as I'm writing this. That man, whoever he is, has really inspired me. If he can do it at 82, well so can I. Time to stop making excuses.

And that was me for today. So go on and grab hold of that opportunity and miss those you love with all your heart.

PS if your waiter is bad, just smile and don't go there again. Being rude only puts you at his mercy... (Yikes).

Cooking vs Baking, Dust, Direwolves

It's Friday! Thank goodness. Strange thing how some weeks seem to fly by, while others seem to sit down, light a cigarette and refuse to move on.

With the weekend dangling in front of my nose, here are my three thinks for today:

Cooking vs Baking - I don't enjoy cooking all that much. Now, before you start arguing with me, let me explain where I'm coming from: I used to be a disaster in the kitchen when I was still at school. I frequently set the oven on fire, stuff tended to explode in the microwave when I used it, and I once used chicken seasoning instead of bread crumbs over a pie (it was an honest mistake!). I'm much better at cooking now, but I still break out in a light sweat when I need to take something out of the oven and I absolutely refuse to touch raw meat.
Now, on the other side of the scale, I am completely in love with the art of baking. I can spend hours on end choosing the perfect confectionary to suit my mood, rolling out cookies and lovingly mixing a butter icing. There is something soothing about it. And the smells! You can't beat it. I love strolling up and down in the baking aisle at the supermarket, admiring the new blenders and the cute cookie cutters. It takes me ages to choose decorations and I'm always trying to find a new edge to an old recipe.
My favourite recipe of all time, though, is my mom's secret ingredient chocolate cake. It also goes much further than secret ingredients: you have to mix this thing with that one first, then sift this three times and that only twice, fold only a little bit now and the rest later... Baking that cake takes an entire day, but the result is worth it. The cake is moist and very dark. Best part is taking the first bite after letting it rest overnight - you can feel the sugar running up and down your arteries! Yay!
Recently, though, I've started to push myself. I'm trying to bake things that have always sounded impossible to me. This started about a year ago when Masterchef Australia was airing. The cakes those people knocked out were just mindboggling. The best of these: Adriano (freakin) Zumbo's V8 Cake. That is my goal. If I can bake that cake, successfully, I would be forever content. I'll not say anything more. Go check out the recipe below. If you manage to make this without a hitch, please let me know!

Adriano Zumbo V8 Cake

Dust - Where in the world does it come from?! I need to dust about four times a week to keep up with the wretched stuff. Does it run in when I turn my back, laughing to itself? Does it have a tiny commander who shouts instructions as it double marches through the sliding door? "Brown Dust - kitchen! Black Dust - bathroom! Red Dust - bookcase! Go go go!" One day, I hope to destroy this enemy for good. Until then - this means war.

Direwolves - For our first wedding anniversary, my husband gave me the entire Song of Ice and Fire series of books from George R.R. Martin. Wow. I am so hooked. I read on whenever I get the slightest chance, like the 4 minutes (exactly) in the morning when The Man is in the shower. The way that Martin reveals only small parts of the story at a time makes you run through those books like wildfire (for those who are reading it, excuse the pun). His style is such an inspiration to me, while I am writing my own fantasy series. Whenever I put one of his books down, I find myself with new ideas. I really hope my books can do the same for someone else one day, even if it only touches a single person out there. Only bad thing about reading this series: I now want a direwolf as a pet.

Great. Now all this talk about cake has gotten me hungry. Maybe I'll build up the courage and bake that V8 this weekend. I'll just get hubby to take it out of the oven.

PS I noticed that a big part of my audience is situated in the UK. I'm told it's because I have a slightly British sense of humour - don't know how true this is. Anyway, thanks for reading my blog! Maybe I'll get to know some of you.

It works! It actually works! And I NEVER manage these technical things! Snaps for me!!!

Just checking my email posts - not sure if I set it up right...

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Noisy Eaters, Holidays, Nail Polish

Yesterday I talked about Wednesdays, and how it became ever more difficult to get out of bed and shuffle along to work when you knew how close the weekend is. Today, to make it even worse, it's raining steadily and it's nice and dark outside. My eyes seem to be closing of their own accord...

Before I fall asleep, though, my three thinks for today:

People eating - I cannot stand to hear someone eat. I know it's unavoidable to crunch away every now and then, but please don't do it where I can hear you. I can feel the most terrible anger building up in me if someone smacks their lips, clean their teeth with their tongue or talk with food in their mouths, making their voices sound all thick and gross. Strange peeve, I know, but come on! Sofistication! Just saying.

Holidays - My husband and I are currently in a fiery dispute over where we would like to go for our December holiday. This always happens around this time of year. We start throwing ideas around, decide on something, then change our minds again in May. We make a new choice, only to have ourselves bowled over by some fantastically different idea in August. After that, we change our minds roughly three or four times again before we finally make a belated decision in November. By this time we need to work miracles to manage a booking or two, but we usually end up somewhere unexpected and amazing. This suits us and I love it.
That said, December holidays are probably the trips that we plan out the most. We break away often during the rest of the year and the ideas often pop up over dinner with friends. Most of them start fidgeting nervously when they listen to us spontaneously suggest a holiday. They have to look at their schedules. They're not sure if they would be allowed off work. A week is not enough time to plan something like this. They just might be busy. Personally, I don't get it. Either you want to go, or you don't. If you want to, you'll make a plan.
Yes, I do understand that not everyone functions in the same way. We are the exception in this - it doesn't take much to convince us to drive for 16 hours to Zambia. Normally, we tell ourselves that it is, in fact, necessary. Most people need to wrap their heads around an idea first. That's fine, I can respect it completely.
I do, however, think that a little spontaneity goes a long way. Our best trips have been spontaneous. Once, we had to sleep outside in the open on a salt pan in Botswana, for lack of making a booking anywhere. Another time, my husband, his best friend and I decided to go camping - at 20:00 on a Thursday night. So we got in the car and drove for 6 hours to the Kruger National Park. We toured down through the park for a week - which is fine and all, except for the fact that we forgot to pack EVERYTHING. Between the three of us we had a tent, one dixie, one firebucket, a machete and a pocket knife. No cutlery, no plates, no chairs, no pillows and no extra clothes. We did, however, have 15 bundles of wood.
It sounds crazy, I know, but I cannot think of anything better. As a woman, I do enjoy a soft bed and the luxury of washing my hair, but you still cannot beat a campfire and hyenas laughing somewhere nearby. Especially if you did not plan on being there a few hours ago.


Nail polish - My toes have not been colour-free since 1998 when I was 10. I discovered the secret to pretty feet early on and I have been hooked since. I try to keep my fingernails manicured and stylish, but alow myself the odd crazy toe. Our fridge is stacked with tiny bottles of every comprehensible colour - from black and bronze to lilac and neon blue. At school, where uniforms are compulsory in SA, my bright red toenails were my silent rebellion, my little flags of protest. In my opinion, one of the very best inventions in the history of womankind. Speaking of which, I just spied a bottle of glittery pink polish I had almost forgotten about. Mmmm....

Right, time to pry my eyelids open. Now paint those toes and stick it to the Man!

PS Thank you, Wolf and Pees - there are no limits when you two are around.

Communities, Stokies, Wednesdays

And it is officially Day 2 in the existence of my blog. Thanks to everyone who has read it already! It's such a blessing to have so much support. It means a little more pressure, though, but that's not necessarily a bad thing...

So let's get right to it. My "three thinks" for today are:

Community - We recently moved out of the city to a small(ish) town with a strong farming community. This means that we are on the road for roughly 3 hours everyday, driving to and from work (which is still in the city). Best decision we could make. I prefer peace and quiet, and the odd sound of a tractor, to taxi's hooting and businessmen shouting profanities at each other from their Audi's. The driving does start getting to you, though. We need to leave the house at around 05:20 in the mornings and we only get home after 18:00. But last night, I finally decided it was worth it.
I was buying toothpaste and a milktart from the local grocer after work. The store was packed and I was looking for the shortest queue. I fell in behind a lady who looked me up and down, then smiled at me. She asked me if I would like to pay before her, as I looked like I was in a hurry. She only had a bread with her, and then proceeded to act like she was carefully choosing a magazine to take up some time. I quickly cut in and thanked her afterwards, wishing her a good night of reading. That would never happen in the city. I was so surprised to find a person who was willing to put someone else before themselves - if only for 2 minutes. Small encounter, big effect. It is the first time since we moved that I have felt part of the community.

Stokies - I love my stokies. If you don't know, "stokies" are a style of house slippers - they are made from a type of towel material with a thick rubber sole. I have had mine for close on 6 years now and they are still as tough as the day I bought them. I would know, as I've put them to the test. My stokies have gone everywhere with me - from hiking through the Okavango Delta to climbing trees (long story). One of the best investments I have ever made. I realise it may sound weird, but I am strangely attached to them and look upon them lovingly. Tough little things. Maybe I'll write an ode to them.

Wednesdays - Yay! It's almost weekend! In Afrikaans we call this day "Klein Saterdag" (mini Saturday). To me, Wednesdays give you license to be a little more lazy than you were on Monday. It's the day when the week hits a peak - from there it's smooth sailing to Friday. You can relax just a tiny bit. Only problem is, my body latches on to this idea and it becomes increasingly difficult to convince it that it needs to get up, walk, and WORK. My body goes into complete protest mode: my eyes refuse to open and my feet seem to stick to my bedroom carpet, making me drag them across the room. I feel all ashamed and disappointed in myself for having such bad work ethic - but then I remember it's Wednesday and I cut myself even more slack. A vicious circle, really.

So that's what's on my mind today. Yes, it is very deep and profound, I know. To end off my second ever post, I wish to take the corny route: Buy yourself a pair of stokies at your local store and cut yourself some slack - it's Wednesday, after all.

Pilot

My very first post. Wow. Pressure much?

Let me start by explaining the blog. Without going into a long, soppy story about my childhood and terrible teenage years, I realised years ago that I view the world in a somewhat different way than most. I've always had the greatest love for books of all sorts and this only added to my strangely formed imagination. Long story short, I am working on a book that I hope to publish in the very near future. Until I am writing full time, though, I decided to start this blog. Here I will share my most random thoughts, my nonsensical ideas, and my rants and raves on stupidity. This will (hopefully) help the creative juices flow and who knows - maybe you'll find yourself agreeing with some of my thoughts (small chance, but I can hope).

The idea is to post my thoughts on three things that have crossed my mind that day. Thoughts tend to gallop through my head at astonishing speeds, so without further ado, off we go:

Kitchen Teas - I hate them. Absolutely cannot stand them. For those of you who are not from South Africa, or from the Afrikaans culture, a "Kitchen Tea" is the right of passage of any young bride. It includes your mom and all your girlfriends, aunts, bridesmaids, grandmothers etc. coming together to wish you a happy marriage and send you off into matrimony armed with blenders, dishcloths and an apron you will never wear. In general, I don't really enjoy most girly get-togethers, but Kitchen Teas make me want to run and hide. You are expected to wear a pretty little dress, bring along your favourite recipe and play stupid games that no-one finds funny (but everyone is expected to laugh at). And they are all EXACTLY THE SAME. The women all sit around looking like they are having the time of their lives, while daintily nibbling at a mini sausage roll and giggling at stories of horrible husbands. Spare me.

Xbox - My husband and I recently invested in one. I did not think that I could be so easily conned into losing hours of my life staring at a racetrack while gnashing my teeth. Apparently, I can. Is this thing fun or what? We have the Kinect version that allows you to use your body as the control. Very good exercise and great entertainment for the neighbour who does not know what you are doing. I fought so hard against this streetfighter that I took my back out. Good times.

Foreigners - We travel quite a bit. So much so that it has crossed the line from being a hobbie, into being a lifestyle. Through this I have had the privilege to meet and befriend some of the most amazing and enchanting people. A few weeks ago I had to say goodbye to a group of Germans and Austrians who stole my heart. We travelled through Southern Africa together and did everything from hiking in the Delta to getting lost and ending up in a different country than intended (don't ask). Currently, we have a new friend from the UK staying with us for a few days. I am dreading the goodbye. Funny how trust can come so easily when there are no pretenses and agendas - only fun and a language barrier. Ramkat, Heidi, Mr. Match and Badman: here's to seeing you soon.

So that was my first post. Whew! And just for the record, MY Kitchen Tea was on the back of a Unimog in the middle of  the bushveld with a bewildered giraffe looking on. No aprons in sight. Thanks Mom.