reasons I am not blogging ...

... in no particular order.

1. Game of Thrones. I started re-watching from the very beginning a couple of months back and am, to date, all caught up until S7E5 which drops tonight. 

Yeah, I know, it's not for everyone. But it is so very much for me. I'm already panicking about how empty life will be without it.

2. I am doing a 3000 piece puzzle. Lame right? But it so very much for me too.

There is something so calming, therapeutic for me about puzzles. Pieces fall into place, my brain relaxes into it and focuses. There is chaos, and then order - so unlike my life.

My only problem is that I don't have a table top big enough! I'm working on the bottom two-thirds and will have to ignore the top.

My completion problem tendency is deeply satisfied.

3. This.

Our long awaited and now much beloved wood-burning stove. I swore I wouldn't do another winter without one.

I swore that a couple of winters back actually, but this time I made it happen.

4. Life.

I'm finding life quite full-on a the moment. There is work, and there is home/kids/pets/school and in between all of that there is very little me.

I know to know that this is a season, a patch we're in. This is an inordinately busy work month, and I've not had one this full on for a while. The girls are busy and growing and living large. 

The pets are time-consuming. There is a puppy to watch and train and manage and a boy who is adjusting to a puppy and recovering from surgery - as we recover from the shock of his own brush with skin cancer (he's all clear thank dog). There's an elderly lady cat who needs assistance more than she used to, is adjusting to a puppy and is, we realised recently, stone deaf.

And there's still a Lego to mourn. I miss her every day.

Sometimes I can ride the hurdy-gurdy of our very full days. And sometimes I feel discombobulated and unbalanced by their pace.

5. Death.

Of relationships, of innocence. The very concept.

It's been hitting close to home of late, and it's almost impossible to put into words. Feelings of loss are the hardest to describe. What do you say about something which creates a gaping vacuum in your heart? A space which feels both empty and full to the brim.

This August is nothing like last year.

halloween grinch

I just ... don't really like Halloween.

Most of my reasons place me firmly in the 'old fart' camp, but strangely I'm okay with that.

1. Really? Since when is Halloween a thing?
It wasn't when I was a kid, or even a young adult, or even a not-so-young adult, but gradually the long arm of consumerism has elevated 31 Oct up out of the calendar and into a place in which money must be spent and effort made and something celebrated.
Oh no wait, nothing gets celebrated, except by the manufacturers of candy and fake blood - they're having a lovely time.

2. The candy is gross.
I'm not a sugar nazi. I have a firm suspicion that my youngest (she of the remarkably sweet tooth of course) should probably not eat too much of it, I suspect it makes her bonkers, but I'm not proactive enough to try and ban it and I think I have a pretty standard policy on sugar consumption (ie not enough to ruin dinner and/or make you puke), but I don't like shit sweets.
And because everyone's compelled to buy so much of it to hand out on Halloween, there's usually a lot of shit, fake, disgusting plastic-masquerading-as-candy candy.

3. Scary is not cool.
We live in a country, nay a WORLD that is completely and utterly terrifying on a daily basis. Scary lost its cool in my book a long time ago. Round about when I become an old fart probably.
Ditto: wounds, blood, violent deaths, embracing the dark side, jokes about Ebola, weaponry of any kind.

4. Entitlement is unattractive.
Already our kids, all of our kids, even the really nice ones, are becoming painful about expecting Christmas presents, birthday parties, chocolate at Easter and cash from the Tooth Fairy. Now we're encouraging them to run around with buckets demanding sweets from people not even related to them or obliged to put out because of a complex social code of reciprocal present-giving.
Really?

5. It blows.
The wind that is. Late October in Cape Town is howling, throbbing, blasting South-Easter season. An invasive and spiteful wind that chills you to the bone, even when the sun shines, that blows grit into all your exposed orifices (and some that aren't), that ruins your hair and your picnic and your mood.
It always blows on Halloween. Really not a good time to be outside.

HOWEVER, the good news is: there is wine. Plenty of it.

And if you're lucky there are friends who aren't old farts and arrange fun and age-appropriate Halloween events in which you and your children can participate.
Friends who make snacks, and provide safe and welcoming environments out of the wind in which to eat those snacks, and drink that wine, while the sugar-fueled children run amok in the night.

My grinchiness abated .... did a slight encore to accompany my hangover the next morning, and then went back into hibernation until next year.

The Littlest Jaguar and SHOUTY MUM, appropriately wind-swept.

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.

the best thing(s) about a childfree morning

... jaywalking.

... talking aloud without having to explain myself.
(mumble) 'Damn, I should've turned there.'
'What did you say Mum?'
(slightly louder) 'I said I should've turned there but it doesn't matter, I'll take the next one.'
'The next what Mum?'
'The next turn.'
'This one Mum?'
(deep breath) 'No, the next one coming up.' (mumble) 'Damn, that's a one-way'
'What's a one-way Mum?'
(little exasperated) 'Um, I can't explain right now sweetie, could we just not talk while I work out where I'm going?'
(small pause) 'Are we lost Mum?'

... eating chocolate for breakfast. And not having to share it.


... not carrying wet wipes (though this can sometimes be a disadvantage).


... listening to Dr Eve on 567 CapeTalk.

stuff white ladies do*

* as witnessed by me or friends of mine in the last few months.

~ park on yellow lines or in no-go zones with utter disregard, waving off protesting guards with claims of 'Ay'll just be here for a minute my man, do calm down'

~ berate the poor dumbstruck butcher at the local supermarket for the amount of plastic and styrafoam used to package the meat cuts

~ hand out drinks of iced water and second-hand hats to people begging at the traffic lights on the hottest days of summer, all the while scolding them for having their kids out in the sun all day

~ threaten to confiscate unhealthy looking cart-horses and/or dogs from the most dubious looking scrap-metal collectors with apparent lack of concern for their own safety or what they'll actually do with the horse in the unlikely event that the guy's cowed (horsed?) into handing it over

~ interrupt a meeting full of senior (male) managers at the supermarket to complain about how few check-out points are open during rush hour and then victoriously have one of them push her overloaded trolley the length of the store, in front of all the harried shoppers, to an empty till which is being hurriedly opened just for her
(ok, this last one was me)

I'm not saying it's exclusively white ladies who do these kinds of things. But there's something about the indignant, self-righteous sense of entitlement of a South African white lady ... there's just something about them ...

le grinch

~ christmas spirit is when you hide in the house until the rubbish collection guys have passed so as to avoid their verging on extortionate demands for a donation to their 'Christmas box'.

~ christmas spirit is when you feel like a magnanimous benefactor when you're able to vacate your parking space for another frazzled shopper. You reverse out gracefully and wave them in as if you're bestowing great honour.

~ christmas spirit is when some fuck tries to squeeze past you and your packed shopping trolley, elbowing you in your clearly very pregnant stomach, just to get out of the lift first.

~ christmas spirit is when a dude demonstrating a remote control car is so eager to make a sale that he drives it into a little old lady's shins, and doesn't really apologise.

~ christmas spirit is when a lady security guard rushes over to your car to help the very pregnant woman load up her heavy bags of shopping.
Merci nice Ghanian lady, you restored my faith a little.