suspended

I stood on the stoep and watched a butterfly. One of those big orange and white faux-monarch ones, I could see his/er feelers twitching.
And then, a starling. Picked it out the air.
So quick, the insect had no more knowledge of it's end approaching than a pea suddenly speared with a fork on a plate.
The bird whipped away, and empty blueness remained.

The dabchicks are back. This is a sure sign that autumn is coming. They are the smallest, and the loudest, birds on the lake. They are very shy.
A family of them float in the water just off the shore. I stand from the table where I have been sitting and with an almost imperceptible plop, in one movement, they are gone.
The tiniest ripple remains.

The water weed sits dense and murky along the edges of the lake. This is the late summer bloom, close to the surface, rich and mysterious.
A huge fish hangs suspended in a grey-green clearing. I sit very still on the bank and watch him, faintly his tail sways, I think I see an eyeball swivel.
I blink, and he is gone.
A massive creature, he manipulates water to envelope and hide him.
The faintest wisp of stirred up silt remains for a second and then drifts away to belie his ever being there.

This week was heavy, and awkward and slow. I have this stage, paused between jobs, when I get crabby and frustrated and bleak. I have work (yes, I am grateful) but no pressure and the lack thereof retards me so I drift pendulous and heavy through my days, wanting to be productive but spending more time suspended. Thoughtful. Slow. Prone to existential examination which is neither healthy nor particularly interesting. I bore myself.
But unlike the butterfly, I know the jolt will come. I know if I hang out here too long I'll be in trouble. Like the fish I know this oasis of calm is encircled by the dark woods of the unknown and I shan't have too long to spend here. Like the dabchick I know I will soon be swimming fast to get my head back above water, back into safer territory.

And when that happens this week of disquiet will fade and disperse into my life and just be that one moment, when I was suspended, before action and movement and change.

one more for august

August is such a loooong month right?
I think it's for the benefit of those northern hemisphere dwellers, reveling in their last proper summer month, bracing themselves for September and autumn and back-to-school and all that.

Hardly seems fair that our equivalent, February, is the shortest month of the year. But I guess we have that sun all year round thing going for us right?

I used to dislike August intensely, many years ago back when winters in Cape Town meant weeks and weeks of incessant, drippy rain and grey skies and cold, cold toes.
Winters aren't like that anymore though, and now the all too rare winter storm is a magnificent, exciting event which gets everyone a-talking and posting photos of the damage on Facebook.

Now August has sunny days - beautiful still sunny days - and Spring starts to feel like a reality long before it should.

Looking back at some August posts I notice patterns: the return of the light (well yes because, seasons), and feeling restless (this current job is taking longer to get going than expected, and I am again a bit - I've been washing curtains!).
August was the month I announced that I was pregnant with Stella (7 yrs ago!), the month we were packing up to make the magnificent move to the lake (4 yrs ago!) a year since we said goodbye to our ginger kitty and, August was the month I started this blog - 8 yrs and very many very silly posts back.

Frieda in Augusts: 2008 - 2016

I don't dislike August anymore. I kind of miss it already. Bye bye 'til next year.

weekending

Frieda stayed in her pyjamas all day Saturday. A couple of times we suggested she get dressed but she wasn't having it.
Pyjamas. Roald Dahl on audio. Colouring books. Toast. It was that day for her and I get it, I really do.

I decided recently on a title for my autobiography. You know, the one I'm continually living, I mean writing in my head.
'Pyjamas 'til Noon'
Sounds enthralling doesn't it. A MUST READ.

Also on the action-packed weekend line-up:

~ winter walks.

(you know, they speak of spring but where they get this thing I do not know because it has not sprung and winter's icy song is not yet sung)

~ 6 hour slow-roasted lamb.

~ hertzoggies.

Future title for autobiography, part 2: 'Baking 4 Eva' (gang sign with pudgy fingers)

Fuck you Monday.

polishing apples

A dear friend came for lunch yesterday.

We were chatting in the kitchen when she glanced over and asked, 'Did you polish your apples?'
We both burst into giggles.

Because yes, late the previous evening on my way to bed, after I'd let the dogs out and turned off lights and set the dishwasher running, I'd stood in my kitchen with cold toes and grainy eyeballs, and polished my apples.
Because that's the kind of housewife I am.
NOT.

I polished my apples because having them shiny has made me happy every time I've looked at them since. I polished my apples to carve out a small corner of beauty and perfection in a kitchen which is totally not that in any other way.
I chose to spend 3 minutes polishing my apples because it was worth it. For me.

If time is a luxury, then spending my time in the manner in which I alone choose to is the greatest luxury I can have.
My friend totally got that, husband rolled his eyes at us from the sink, a child ran in and grabbed an apple. The fruit bowl twinkled.
For a moment all was right with the world.

words to live by

A new client asked me to quote on a job.

I did.

They came back asking if I could trim my quote.

I did.

They came back again asking me to motivate my fees.

I sent them this.

Okay, I didn't really. But I wanted to.

With my work I always use my full ass. It is generous, stable and reliable.

Anything less would be uncomfortable, for everyone.

hurry up and wait

This work that I do, coordinating logistics, has a boringly predictable and repetitive order of events. It goes something like this:

Get brief.
Pick brief apart and request more detail.
Wait.
Get some detail.
Wait.
Get more detail.
Wait.
Initial detail changes.
Silence.
Flurry of non-related, non-urgent detail to be filed to use later.
Finally, get most relevant (now bordering on urgent) detail.
Work work work work work work on detail.
Send epic missive to client including: multiple options, quotes, recommendations, risk assessments, comparative analysis, more quotes, spreadsheets, schedules and response requirements.
Wait.
Wait.
Wait.
Bake Coconut Cupcakes.

Wait.
Post annoying braggy blog posts (see previous).
Wait.

Refine details for my ladies lunch this weekend. I think this sums it up nicely ...

And then suddenly - BAM - Client wakes up to OMFG it's all happening! And we barrel head first in to the madness.

But for now, I'm still waiting. As you can probably tell. I'm sure there's something I should be doing ...

25 things about right now.

1. I spend all my days logged into the Other Google Account.
2. The one with The Work and The Questions and The People who need me all the time.
3. My life could not be more different to this time last year.
4. As the conference I'm working on draws near (9-13 Feb), I'm feeling The Thrill. It's a good feeling.
5. I'm working with such a diverse group of people.
6. And seriously have to watch my foul potty mouth - probably not a bad thing ...
7. Also, I was in a meeting this week with 5 other people who were all 5 - 10 years younger than me.
8. Just, wow.
9. RETRACTED
10. Unrelated: if I want to send a Glitter Bomb I need only sweep my study (aka the Art Room) floor.

11. A Glitter & Dog Hair Bomb that is.
12. Seriously, our dogs have the worst life.

13. And on the subject of Lego, there's been a bit of building around here - it's a great work distraction.

(I only noticed the cat/eye thing when I downloaded this.)

14. LEGO building is also fun by lamplight, during load-shedding, which is back.

15. I'm extremely lucky to have a LEGO Fairy Godmother. She's been keeping us in steady supply.
16. Oh wait, there's more LEGO...
17. Somebody has started meticulously planning her birthday party in March.

18. These are all the items which will appear on her cake .... apparently.
19. Not pictured: a fluffy leopard (which I said would have to stand alongside because icing) and a ninja (because invisible).
20. I sense I'm going to have to relinquish control over this one. And that's okay.
21. There's nothing wrong with a LEGO-Leopard-Dinosaur-Ninja 5th Birthday Party at all. We welcome diversity in this house.
22. My brother and sister-in-law are moving into their new house (much closer to us - yay!) RIGHT NOW. We're standing by with supper ...
23. My other brother is getting married NEXT MONTH!
24. Family for the win.
25. Now what the hell am I going to wear for 5 days of formal conferencing??

an abominable procrastination cake

Remember back when Red Velvet Cake was a wild novelty? Something to fuss over and perfect. The first recipe I ever used required some fancy chem-class-type fizzing of baking soda and red food colouring at just the right moment to acquire the correct texture, never mind colour, for an authentic Red Velvet experience.

These days we have this...

An abomination right? An overly-sweet abomination at that. AND the rose petals are not included! Pah.

But ... I happened to have this in the cupboard, and some leftover butter-cream icing in the freezer ... and it was Nonki's 40th birthday ... and I just couldn't get in to working today.

Naturally I blame this.

I mean ... really how ridiculously cute?

So! I baked.

And surprised Nonki with it when she brought the girls home from swimming. We all had tea and cake and sent the rest home with her for her kids.

Yes, I employ someone to look after my children while I bake her cake. Today I may have been the world's best boss.

But I sure wasn't the world's best employee!

the more things change, the more they ... you know

My ex-boyfriend contacted me through Facebook.

Those of you paying attention will know how extremely ex he must be (approx. 25 years).

He wrote to 'ask forgiveness' for his 'ass-hole-ness'. He was an asshole, but we were young and I probably was too so I brushed it off.
'Nothing to forgive.'

He persisted.
'I need you to accept my apology.'
'I need to know you've forgiven me.'
'I want to make atonement.'
There was more.

Yawn.

And then:
'I was a self-centred asshole back then, only thinking of myself.'

Yeah, glad to see you've done some work on that ...

sloppy jo

Yesterday I unexpectedly had to drive the girls to school (husband usually does it).

I put on some new, I think stylish, track pants, a long-sleeve tee. I washed and moisturised my face. I thought I combed my hair, and jumped into the car.

On the way there we realised Frieda hadn't completed her reading assignment for the day - she was beside herself and not satisfied with my writing a note to her teacher, wanted me to come and explain the situation in person.
Okay fine.

I unloaded Stella at Frieda's school and we went in search of Mrs van der Merwe, to discover all the teachers were in assembly.
So I hung out at the back for a while, chatting to other mums and catching up a bit, until bored of waiting I went to the achingly sweet school secretary, explained the situation, left the partially completed reading book and note with her.
In her office I bumped into some other parents, had a couple of other quick chats ...

Then on to Stella's school where, as soon as I walked in, her teacher and another mum said: 'Oh, still in your pyjamas are you?'
What? Do I look like I'm in my pyjamas??

'Kind of,' says the teacher, 'or maybe it's just the wild hair.'

Fuck.

you know I'm ready for a new job ...

... when I've cut 'n stuck me a brand new workbook.

There is no theme, just some random therapeutic cutting and sticking, but maybe the side-eyes are a warning to anyone planning on dicking me around on this one.

I ain't kidding. 

Ha ha ha ha thunk.

niggling

Things irritating the pants off of me right now:

- decorum - like, having to wear pants
- endlessly debating the state of education, and how it's apparently killing our kids creativity
- recycling, and the accompanying guilt of binning a plastic tub of mouldy hummus rather than scooping it out and washing it for the green bag
- anti-vaxxers, obviously
- having to re-examine every word in every conversation for fear of insulting somebody
- doing the 'right thing'
- not always being able to say fuck out loud.

Being PC and middle-class can be fucking boring.

Oh, and did I mention 'hurry up and wait' work contracts in which everything was sooooo pressing and urgent last week, but this week ... dead air.

Grrrrrr.

so.much.noise

I did a software upgrade on my phone recently. It's been really slow since then.
'Have you done a factory reset?' asks Husband.
'No, of course not.'
'You got to back everything up first.'
'How?'
'With Kies.'
'The Kies that keeps crashing my laptop?'
'Reinstall it.'
'So, uninstall it and then reinstall it on the laptop that keeps crashing?'
'Well, move to the PC I built you.'
'But before I do that I have to back up right?'
'Yeah ... well start with your phone and then everything else.'

Everything else.

I'm really too young to be a tech-philistine. I can't let it start intimidating me yet. I don't want to be that person. But jesus I'm tired of having to learn to do a new thing when I just want to draw a line under an old thing and get on with living my life.

The To Do pile wrt to Things To Back Up and Move and Save for Eternity just joins the list of all the other things that need Sorting Out.
Like my desk.
And the art room.
And the piles of junk I stashed in various cupboards before the birthday party on Saturday.
And the photos, don't get me started on the photos.
And the girl's closets.
And the toy room.
And the at least 5 projects I've got on the go.
And the upcoming contract I'm starting soon.
I could go on but really it's too boring.

Sorting out and backing up and clearing the decks is not how I want to live my life. Not. At. All.
All this stuff makes so much noise.

50 things about right now

1. We sold my car on Saturday. I'd had it since 2006.
2. It felt like the last vestige of my pre-kids life driving away.
3. Stella's favourite word(s) are 'spic and span'.
4. Frieda's favourite word is 'lunch'. Say them out loud, they're awesome.
5. My favourite word is any one which is not directed at me.
6. This week I see a biokineticist.
7. I'm still not sure how they differ from a physiotherapist.
8. This week we see Stella's ENT. Again.
9. I will be fucking annoyed if we're going back for more grommets.
10. Someone suggested sacro cranial massage instead. Is that really a thing?
11. This week I start my collage class. Have I mentioned I'm excited?
12. This week is going to be super busy.
13. We're hosting a mermaid pirate birthday party on Saturday.
14. The lounge is half-painted.
15. I need to 1) bake 24 cupcakes (done!),
16. 2) bake 16 mini-cupcakes (fuckit, I'm buying un-iced ones),
17. 3) make icing in 3 different colours. This is all just for the cake.
18. The cake is going to be goddamn beautiful.
19. The girls and I made octo-pops (pics to follow) (not cake pops)
20. Stella didn't feel the 'tentacles' (her word) were anatomically correct.
21. We're reading On the Banks of Plum Creek.
22. We're reading Pegasus.
23. Frieda's reading flash cards. Frieda's reading.
24. We got the pedalo back in the water (husband's been repairing it) and he and Frieda took it for a spin.
25. He happily reports her legs have grown enough to significantly help with pedaling.
26. A dehydrated duckling quietly died in front of us on Friday. There's been lots of talk of death.
27. I'm having a bit of a 'approaching 40 and facing the limitations of my body' moment. Despite 40 still being 14 months away.
28. I'm tired of it not working properly though. My body that is.
29. The battery on my mobile is stuffed. I'm ignoring it.
30. And on the subject, our ginger cat is getting on and I'm nervous about how she'll handle winter.
31. Winter is coming.
32. Luckily so is series 4.
33. Husband is going to make scones for the parents on Saturday. He's a keeper.
34. I'm wondering if I can be arsed to make pirate flags ... if I do they'll be black skulls on white backgrounds 'cos that's all the fabric I have. Is that acceptable? Aha! Friends arrived with their kid draped in one, he very kindly let us borrow it for the weekend.
35. How many parents will come, and stay, on Saturday?
36. How far in advance can one make jelly?
37. I want to start working raised beds this autumn to plant veggies for spring.
38. Must do some research ...
39. I don't often indulge parenting-related guilt, but after many weeks of being disconnected (my ankle injury and then working so hard the last two), I feel I need to put some thought and planning in to what we'll do with our time together (the girls and I) this year.
40. Spending time with them is so good.
41. Their relationship with each other fascinates me.
42. Frieda has way more patience with her sister than I do.
43. The best thing about prepping for a party is clearing out all the junk in the house.
44. We took a full load to the dump on the weekend.
45. Why are we such hoarders?
46. Is there anything better than finding the perfect use for something you've been hoarding?
47. I really should be coating marshmallows in chocolate.
48. Or figuring out whether it's best to receive $$ straight into my bank account or through PayPal.
49. I should write about the American Job, for therapy as much as anything else.
50. Instead I'm hanging strings of stars arbitrarily around the house.

My little star turns 4 this month!

ho hum ... grateful ...

I don't make resolutions - 'cos they're naff - but two things I'd like to do more of this year is take random pictures of shadows and textures and such, and send interesting packages to interesting places.
All of you who live in interesting places take heed.

My sister-in-law is the care package queen and I find it highly enviable. Also, I have latent guilt from friends and family living abroad for many years and receiving very little actual post from me.
I'm starting with a sick boy I know of far away ... let's see how well I pull this off.

Two weeks tomorrow, still on crutches. Photos taken: 0 (besides the obligatory first day of school snaps). Care packages sent: 0. Getting off to a good start ...

But, I am grateful for ...

~ rediscovering the joy of a bath, in my able-bodied life I'd shunned baths in favour of the more efficient seeming shower
~ netflix - because when you really need to kill time, there's no better way
~ my smartphone and how it has entertained me when the effort of fetching my book from the next room is not worth the pain, or awkward under-the-arm-tenuous-crutch-grip-slash-risk-of-another-injury
~ the kilo's shed (or more truthfully, not gained) as I'm unable to snack indiscriminately (see: reasons above)
~ that I work from home!

But mostly of course I am consumed with gratitude to my husband, my mum, my fabulous kids, extended family and friends - for assisting and supporting and sympathising.

It's only a sprain, a few weeks on crutches is, as my father would say, but nothing against the limitless span of eternity, but it's been interesting. More thoughts on that soon.

pinterest

Sometimes I love Pinterest for reasons not even Pinterest could have predicted ...

so they say

There's a storm raging outside. Quite a serious one for the middle of summer and all that. High winds, driving rain, choppy waters. I've moved my laptop to the dining room table so I can watch the drama before it gets too dark.

And to keep an eye on the duck family seeking shelter on the bank opposite. Mama duck and 8 ducklings - 5 yellow and 2 speckled. Wait, that makes 7 right? (Post on atrocious mathematical ability to follow ...) I've been watching them for quite a while, struggling to get up out of the water.
Mama went up first, then helpfully stood on the side quacking loudly while her babies bobbed and beeped in the rough waters below. The two tawny ones got up next, seemingly with no trouble, but the yellow guys milled around pitifully for ages, a yellow blob of fluff adrift in the storm, one enterprising fellow from the back trying to get on top, his plan no doubt to use his siblings as a raft.

Eventually one duckling got a foothold and, spurred on by his Mum, tracked a route up through the grasses and on to dry(er) land. His sibs immediately followed suit.

There was still much chatter and milling around as they all got organised - teeth brushed, dry jammies, that sort of thing I imagine, and now all I can see in the growing gloom is Mama's white head as they hunker down together in a dip out of the worst of the rain.

They say (and Rosemary Clooney says it best), it's lovely weather for ducks, but frankly I think it's far better weather to be inside, smelling supper in the oven and anticipating watching Skyfall later.

Sorry ducks!

a tally ...

... of my recent injuries:

On Friday I got kicked in the face. By accident naturally, during a wild pre-bedtime game of, um ... Kick Mum in the Face as far as I can make out.

Lesson learnt: those little heels are hard and also, never get in a bar fight. My face hurts.

On Saturday I stubbed my toe against the edge of the exhaust pipe for Husband’s ‘project bike’ which was on the floor of the study because, um ... that’s where it seems to live now? I lifted a big flap of skin and may or may not have said bad words in front of my children.

Lesson learnt: buy house with garage, make Husband live in it (garage) and also, fuck.

On Sunday I moved the dog’s bed (made of a repurposed 4x4 tyre) and managed to drop it on my foot. I think I crushed one or more small bones. I may have said some more bad words.

Lesson learnt: get a chihuahua.

And also, feet are over-rated.

being a lady

You know how a lady reserves the right to change her mind? Yeah, I'm calling that one.

I've realised to be true what a couple of my nearest and dearest probably realised some time ago: I ain't no mommy blogger. At least not a South African one. At least not a South African one who will anytime soon produce the kind of material which'll entice any of the (limited number) of mommy-blogger type advertisers out (t)here.
At least not a South African one who will fit the mold or care to work particularly hard at doing so.

It's complicated. But that is what it is.

The good news: I've liberated myself of some truly tedious twitter follows and blog subscriptions - I'm not playing that 'networking' game no more.

The silly part: I now have two blogs for the same kind of content.

The other silly part: this blog's followers keep growing, despite my not generating any actual blog posts.

Further to that silly part: my followers on the other blog are holding steady, despite my generating lots of blog posts for it and despite very healthy traffic over there (lots of which is from here).

So I've got followers here who go there to spy on me, followers there who know nothing about here, loyal readers there who don't actually 'follow' me anywhere, youspinmerightroundbabyrightroundlikearecordbabyrightroundrightround ...

And all of this because I want to be a writer. A moniker I've had many opportunities to test out of late, what with the girls starting new schools and my meeting new people as a result. People who ask me what I do, and dry-mouthed I answer 'I write' which leads to a whole bunch of inevitable questions which I don't really know how to answer.
'Oh you know ... um ... here and there ... working on some stuff ... look! squirrels!'

What I've written lately:
not many blog posts, here or there
copious lists
the bones of a short film screenplay
the bones of 3 articles for submissions to various publications, none of which are near submission ready
half a letter to my granny
detailed instructions for my nanny
far, far, far too many facebook status updates

I'm not really sure what to do about all of this ...

Hello Oh For the Love of Blog! Happy 2012!

random photo-ness

Last night I opened my diary for the first time since the 25th of June. Not my Dear Diary, my Page-A-Day diary.

3 weeks of school holiday is a long time man. Looking forward to some real life again.

Oh wait, this is my real life ...

 Sculpture by Marieke Prinsloo Rowe on Sea Point Promenade.

Snapped one night in a forecourt cafe - seems he's alive and well (and careless), living in Cape Town.

 The legacy of the 2010 World Cup - gorgeous biodiversity garden in Green Point next to the Cape Town Stadium.

Sun, smiles, slides, smartphones ...

The dark side of little girls. Can't decide which doll's more creepy ...?