gatecrasherrrrrs

Much has been written about how women of a certain age gain an indisputable confidence and general whatever-fuck-you attitude.
Much has been written about whiteness, and how one of the undeniable privileges about being white is gaining access to all kinds of places without anyone questioning your validity for being there.
There's also been a few things written about Dutch courage, and the kind of bravado which can only be found in the bottom of a wine bottle.

This is a tale in which all of these collide ...

'Twas friend Y's birthday and three of us popped out to a nearby wine farm for a little fancy dinner of a rainy Wednesday evening.

En route we passed a mammoth big glass building - finally completed after months of building and traffic disruption - and noticed a little soiree happening inside.

'Is that my surprise birthday party?' quips friend Y.

We proceeded to dinner - a delightful selection of small dishes of fancy delicious things - and two very nice bottles of a wine which was not called 'Panties' despite my dinner mates continually referring to it as such. Lots of giggles, some silly selfies in the parking lot and we were on our way home thinking we'd had the most fun the evening had to offer ... until we passed back past the big glass building, and decided to just 'pop in'.

We swung in the gates and through the doors with all the self-assuredness of 40-something white ladies two bottles of wine down. And nobody stopped us.

Not one of the black-tie, ball-gowned, silver-heeled, well-oiled guests, nor any of the beefy, bull-necked, bruiser security-types even tried to stop us. Not even that slim black-clad blonde lady in the middle pic who turned out to be the gallery director and definitely gave us some quizzical glances dared actually approach us.

We were in sneakers for gods sake, but we were wearing them with a mighty confidence.

We were pigging out at the divinely decadent dessert table - the only people pigging out there I might add (I'm pretty sure the staff were on to us then) - and nobody even thought to engage us in conversation and find out who the heck we were.

We were taking photos and giggling at artworks and clearly misbehaving at the sponsors wall - but we got away with it.

Turns out it was the art event of the year. Turns out it was the patron's evening before the soft opening before the hard opening before the VIP opening of Cape Town's latest ra-ra gallery and art collection. Turns out it was quite a big deal.

Don't ever think old gals don't know how to have fun.

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.

life

It's pouring rain outside, no surprise I've been pinning soup recipes for the last few minutes.

Life goes on.

My Mum's older sister turned 70 last week.

She was born in 1944 London, in the middle of an air raid. I can't begin to imagine how my grandmother felt, bringing her first child into that world.

Life goes on.

I cried in my car on the highway when I heard about the Gaza ceasefire. Actual tears. Because I knew it wouldn't hold. I think it lasted all of an hour, if that.

But apparently, for some, life goes on.

A full, beautiful, life full of little girls and home improvements and lovely times with friends. Crafty afternoons and colourful homes and beloved's birthdays. Dragon costumes and puppy antics, half price pizza and wine while the children play. Inspired ideas and clean bed linen and snuggling with cats and movies in bed.

It has to right?

the gender divide

Funny story.

This last weekend, while my girlfriends (it is one word isn't it?) and I were gleefully sitting down to a magnificent salad-medley lunch while camping, and giggling at how unimpressed our assorted husband-types would be ...

... my husband-type, alone at home with the puppy, was sending us this text message.

Sometimes I wonder how heterosexual relationships can possibly work long-term. Culturally, emotionally, genetically - the differences between men and women seem so vast that on paper it seems like a very bad idea.

But realistically it works for so many of us, and surely acknowledging our differences, and making time to celebrate them apart, is one of the keys to that success.

the illustrated man

I sneaked a photo ...

See what I mean about him being a walking collage himself?

And look how neatly he works! Admittedly I think this was when we were packing up towards the end of class but still ... his work was pretty methodical and controlled throughout, and see how he's dabbing up excess glue with a blotter sheet?
Just across the table my workspace was a hot sticky mess half buried in a cloud of torn and furled paper.

It's not just because he's Brazilian, with a welcoming smile and impossible white teeth, not just because he's a practicing psychologist and a surfer.
It is mostly because he's also an established collage artist with exhibitions in Rio and Venice Beach, and a piece in a fancy gallery in Sydney, that when I bumped into him in the supermarket this afternoon it meant so much when he said, with that ridiculously cute smile, 'I really like your work, you have great style.'

Thank you interesting man I don't think I'll ever meet again, I needed that.