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I’ve spent a weekend with 4 men in the middle of the bush. I’m in love with one of them, two are in love with eachother and one is about to be married (and also very much in love). So I think we had the whole “love thing” totally covered.
Part of staying in the bush for a weekend is to go and look for animals. This amounts to a certain amount of planning which equals a lot of patience and of course a lot of food. Leftovers from the braai the night before, a lot of beer, biltong and of course chocolate for those of us that have an incredible addiction to the dark substance. Usually one will have a good off-road vehicle with good ground-clearance in order to actually spot critters. In this department we lacked seriously. Then there was also the “small” matter of fitting large men into a car. Evidently the owner would be the driver. The tallest person filled the other front seat and the rest of us had to share the backseat. Now this brings back memories of when I was 5 and had my first trip to the Kruger National Park. As the youngest I always got the middle seat - this time I could get a window seat just because my two companions were not to be separated (and in love).
Five hours in a car filled with beer-guzzling men and limited space can make even the most patient person a bit cranky and smelly. The animals and soaking in a enourmous bathtub filled to the brim made even the biggest beer burps worthwhile.
My absence from cyberspace wasn’t planned.
In between old/new love, the art of perfecting the shoulder stand (in a freezing yoga studio), the amount of birthdays and the coming of the Gentle Giant last weekend, my blank screen just couldn’t be filled with any meaning(less) words.
I’m still looking through rose-tinted glasses and I might be levitating soon (wouldn’t it be fun? - in-love-superpowers). I’ll be jetting off to the city of gold again in 2 weeks. Going to stare at some wild animals for a weekend (that includes you, Gentle Giant) and hopefully feel some warm sun on my skin. Considered changing my vehicle into a boat this past week.
Wild animals and sunshine is what I need and possibly a day-trip across the border for some delicious prawns and beer… fingers crossed.
(With apologies to Otis Redding)
I will be writing poetry next. I do love poetry and my poems would probably only be loved and read by the Gentle Giant.
What is it with butterflies in the stomach, the smile of the Cheshire Cat that makes one watch really bad romantic comedies and actually think they’re good. I’m putting Nick Cave on relentless repeat, I think people might see that I’m smiling from the behind. My productivity at work has slumped to an all-time low and never has staring blankly at my computer screen given me so much joy.
Next weekend the Gentle Giant will be visiting the Mother City, I’m counting the nights like when I was at (boarding) school and waiting for the holidays to start (this time around counting is just so much better!)
I’ve been neglecting putting word to screen.
Since my birthday 2 weeks ago life has moved into a fast-forward motion. A week ago this time I was waiting to get on a flight to the city of gold. It was an extremely impulsive decision (for me at least). Sometimes one has to wear one’s feelings upon one’s sleeve. It was the moment of truth that was long overdue (about 10 years).
My personal life has been in shambles. After a lack of male interest all of a sudden my life was filled with male interest. Usually I don’t know what to do when the moment strikes. I run away, say the wrong things, don’t see the interest etc. etc.
I’ve taken a plane to meet the love of my life. It took me 10 years to realise that my first love is maybe just my only love.
We dated as students for 3 years - I left for London for 2 years and left him behind. Did some growing up and breaking up in-between. At that stage I believed that I was setting us free. In a way I did (we did). Through various relationships and break-ups we still were in contact. He’s the only person I could ever do that with and only leaving some of my stubbornness behind can I now see that I never stopped loving him.
This week I looked like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland and felt like him (slightly). I never ever thought I would feel this way again as I’m the greatest cynic when it comes to love.
Hopefully no ball-breaking this time, my love.
Can tick off the birthday for the year now. Had such a great time on Friday which fizzled out into a bit of a haze and then a total blackout. Can remember I wanted to sleep next to my toilet. In winter without central-heating not the most comfortable and coziest place in the flat. Think I knocked my head against the sink in the process of snuggling up to the toilet.
The cherry on the cake was that I had to go to Spanish class at 10.30. I managed to drag myself out of bed and into the car (probably still slightly inebriated). When I got to the building the lift was broken which meant I had to carry my incapable body up 6 flights of stairs. Great! I actually turned around wanting to totally skip the class and bumped into the Clever Classmate. Well, up the 6 flights of stairs I went. My already white complexion didn’t help me much - survived class.
To redeem myself I’ve baked 60 cupcakes today - my lovely colleagues better enjoy them tomorrow. Especially the utterly sluttishly red velvet cupcakes. Don’t know why I’ve never baked them before, they’re going to be a show-stopper… yum!
I must be punished by someone unknown car god.
Ten years of accident-free, non-mechanical problems and in 2 weeks I’ve got my bumper knocked and managed to leave my replacement car’s lights on (through screeching warning sounds) and almost miss Spanish Class Number 2.
Thank you people of the friendly neigbourhood that now have been parking in my apartment block’s alloted bays!
Thank you neighbour with shaven head for giving me lift - there truly still are some men in shining armour.
Oh, and in the meantime I’ve flooded my kitchen.
And before I break my mac and will be unable to send my words into cyberspace I will retreat to my couch with remote in one hand and a strong whiskey in the other.
Inspiration has hit a bit of an all-time low despite not being part of the blog universe for very long.
My italian vehicle has been swopped for an eye-catching emerald green japanese vehicle (for this week only). My blue babe is in for repairs… couldn’t light the match.
Played aunt for a day. My motherly instincts kicked in for about 2 hours and then it was gone. My niece (4 years old) wanted to know where my husband/boyfriend was, so did her brother (aged 5). The pressure became too much, even toddlers can be vicious. Older sister tried to save me with an even more heart-wrenching quip. “His name is Nothing”, she said. That needed even more explanation which I wasn’t prepared to face.
Meanwhile I’ll dream about glistening torsos and look forward to bikram (and the Argentinean pinching my cheek). Exercise (and Spanish) now has some incentive and maybe, just maybe Nothing might become Something.
PS: Drama Queen - I’ll be honored.
I’ve never liked exercise. My idea of burning calories would be shopping.
Finding that perfect pair of shoes or jeans necessitates an enormous amount of walking and getting in and out of shoes and pants.
I’ve started with yoga about 3 months ago. I don’t really know why - to me it seemed that it didn’t involve ugly trainers and a huge amount of sweating.
In a moment of absolute madness I decided to visit a bikram yoga studio on Sunday morning. After a night of drinking champagne and copious amounts of red wine (sneaking in a few cigarettes) it seemed the perfect opportunity to get rid of all the toxins.
Result: HUGE headache - me grabbing a little bottle of toxins from bathroom shelf
My weekend is starting out crap.
Was dreaming of learning Spanish and Argentinean men when I was awoken by shouts (”Heave! Heave!”) and blue lights. This could only mean one thing in my lovely neigbourhood - police and accident.
Being somewhat shortsighted I peaked out between the curtains hoping that it wouldn’t be my car. Yes, I did not need glasses. The evidence was there. Of course it was.
I talked to the policeman from my window as I really didn’t want to subject anyone to my “lovely” hairstyle and flannel PJ’s. Soooooooo NOT sexy (first impressions last?).
So my morning was spent sorting out a case number, getting male help to remove the bumper so that I can actually drive to work on Monday.
My car’s karma hasn’t been very good this past year. After the petrol leakage it had a while back (could have led to the damn thing exploding) it’s been downhill all the way.
I think it’s time for my blue italian babe to retire before I stick a burning match into it’s petrol tank.
PS: I’m afraid Mr. Argentina is VERY short - and don’t get me started on mothers.
It started happening about a year ago - I’m not sure. It’s a strange phenomenon and I can’t put my finger on it. When does it happen? What is the cause? Men like ruffling my hair.
I can’t decide if it’s affection or if it’s patronizing.
A year ago it was someone I really fancied in a teenage sort of way. Today it was someone I haven’t met before. I’ve exchanged one email with a person in Argentina two days ago and met him today for the first time. I was sitting in my office chair and met him in person - and he ruffled my hair.
It makes me feel 5 years old sometimes, although I don’t think anyone ruffled my hair when I was 5. Now I’m almost 32. Am I maybe catching up on lost time?
I’m supposed to be hitting the books (starting with intermediate Spanish on Saturday), but instead I’m getting sidetracked by cooking, vacuuming (of all things) and doing other chores that I would never do on a Monday (and probably Tuesday to Saturday) night.
I tend to do the same on mornings when I’m already running late for work. All of a sudden I have time to pack away things that have been lying around for days - the FT I dropped next to the couch on Sunday, the pairs of shoes that are resting in front of the couch (I’ve been tripping over them for days), the mugs standing around in little groups. Then at the last minute I’m not happy with what I’m wearing and have to change my whole outfit.
Then there’s also a new novel I started reading…
Couldn’t resist taking a pic today. The cloud seemed almost unreal - don’t think it needs any further comment.
I decided to add some comment to this anyway. I was standing on a balcony at a house in Hermanus, South Africa.
The only tweaking I’ve done was emphasising the blue - no Photoshop tricks! Later another wave formed, but lighting wasn’t good enough.
I’m up again and it’s short after 5am.
The Doctor came to visit again this morning. He’s not supposed to visit this time of year. He’s ripping through sleepy deserted streets taking with him any unwanted debris. Most importantly waking me up and making me write this.
He takes away the smog shrouding the Mother City, but leaves the city dwellers to fend off flying objects and the most “fun” part will be spending the day trying to get rid of all the dust that seeped through nooks and crannies.
I’m probably wishing my life away, but looking forward to the weekend might be one of my favourite past-times.
Autumn has approached in the Mother City and a few drops of rain now mean that you have a pretty good excuse for not attending any social activities on a Friday. I’ve used that excuse myself yesterday. I was supposed to attend Moxyland which I’ve been looking forward to for a whole week. Come 5pm yesterday I chickened out. The only thing I wanted was my couch, a glass of Sine Metu on ice in my hand and a good movie on television.
Nostalgia hit me hard, must have been the weather and the glass in my hand. I ended up pulling a huge bag of letters out to the cupboard. Letters written to me 9 years ago whilst living overseas - from family, friends and boyfriend (20 handwritten pages per letter!). I would not be able to do the same anymore. Letters to me are now destroyed by a click of a button after being to replied to in haste.
There was something to holding those dusty letters in my hand, reading about people I now don’t see anymore, reading about myself at that stage. Funny how important the smallest thing used to be, how relationships used to be my world and how easily it could collapse.
A nyiff-nyiff moment is when a 20+ female feels like stomping her feet like a 5 year old and/or rants and raves at her beloved/nearest and dearest with NO apparent reason. Moments could also be triggered by unexplained stressful incidents.
(With special mention to Z. for inventing this moment)
After a grey and rainy day, ended by a culinary feast ( a whole six courses) I am greeted by a crispy autumn morning.
The Long Suffering Boyfriend (LSB) has treated me to a five star meal and a very expensive bottle of red wine last night (never say yes to the sommelier without checking the price of the bottle…).
The saying “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” might not just ring true for the male species.
Miss Ballbreaker is getting ready for an evening of gastronomic pleasure with the Long Suffering Boyfriend (LSB).
