Yesterday, as we pulled into a parking lot to pick up something, I heard a funny hissing noise and smelt gas. We were in a hurry though, and I thought it had merely been the bottle of anti-freeze responding to a change in temparature... until I opened up the car again. I nearly choked! The interior was thick with an unbreathable cloud of something spicy and minty and as yet undefined.
Which led to a frantic mission to discover what it was, where it was, before it turned out to be some huge problem with the car!
Couldn't find a thing... until I reached into my bag.
Deep in the dark corners of that bag lurks a small canister of Liquid Bullet. I think I inherited it when Olivia the Landy arrived at my front door - it may have been somewhere in her (which means it was well-travelled!). Well somehow something had set this stuff off and it had half-emptied into my handbag!
We were in the middle of an installation - no time to go fannying about to get rid of the after-effects. All we could do was gingerly drop the still-leaking canister into the nearest bin. But the spinach and feta pie I had for lunch may have been a bit more spicey than intended by the baker.
Later in the day I happened to brush my left hand against my lips after handling my wallet. Hot Lips indeed. When I washed the dishes later, that hand burnt for hours. So yup, Sunlight Dish Liquid doesn't help. And we do know now that Liquid Bullet WORKS.
I have yet to clean out the handbag. I don't know what's been damaged or permeated. I do know that I was rather relieved when I put my sunglasses on and my eyes didn't swell shut. I'll get up the courage sooner or later to take a good look - but I admit it does have a lovely fresh smell to it once you get past the pepper.
Hey, it's not every day you can claim to have maced yourself accidentally! Better enjoy it while it lasts - and make it last long enough not to do it again.... :-)
I don't know if it's hereditary, or if it's merely the inbred voices of 37 years, but in the back of my mind there are whisperings...
You see, I'm slowly but surely putting a new project together - one that's been percolating for a long time, gaining momentum then sitting back to consolidate, exploring and planning, and now coming to fruition. It's not the next big money-making scheme, it's not the next big business deal. But it's something good and something that can make a difference. Big-time.
Or at least I think so.
And that's where the doubt starts to come in. I've been told so many times over the years "you can't do that, you'll never make it, you're a woman - what do you know". I spent a good few years working in a male-dominated environment that ground those kind of opinions into all their female worker's heads. Until you started to believe them....
Inherited come other thoughts, passed down from grandmother to mother to me. That a woman's place is there, not here, doing that, not this. Subservient, self-sacrificing, slave to all, not striding ahead to make big changes on your own - until somehow, some way, you get that spark of confidence that sends you out into success. You suddenly see that you are, in fact, very good at what you want to do. Naysayers be damned. I saw it change my mother, and I've seen it change me.
Yet still back there in the brain lurk the in-pounded observations that you can't actually accomplish your dreams. And now and then they surface, and then you get to beat them down.
I should have learnt by now to reverse those voices, to permanently still them. I've proved that I do, in fact, have a head on my shoulders that can think through things, come up with stuff that works (really well) and make a big success of a project against all odds. In spite of what the general public says.
I guess it's the pattern of self-doubt that comes with starting anything new. Wondering if you're on the right track, if you can ignite the same passion for what you want to do in enough other people to gain momentum, if it will work out how you envisioned it.
And there the trick is simply to dream bigger when the voices come. To imagine more comprehensively, work harder and smarter and better to reach those goals.
Do that, and the voices will quickly be proved very very wrong.
.JPG)
Oak flowers spotted while Favourite Man was hanging off yet another roof sorting out an antenna.
You see interesting things when you walk instead of drive through town... :-)
Yup, apparently I did - without even knowing it.
The Cape is famous for its South-Easterly wind that dominates summer. Yesterday it was going great guns, and last night it reached gale force. By the time we went to bed the antennas on the roof were singing a three-part harmony, the windows were rattling and there was a vague sound of roof tiles lifting ever so slightly.
The dog's water dish disappeared in the night - I know not where, as other lighter things are still around. One or two heavy objects took flight ... and then at 5 this morning the entire Helderberg Basin was woken up by an almighty crash of thunder and blinding flash of lightning! Of course my first thought was "which high site / antenna / server has been taken out???" - and Favourite Man jumped out of bed to check our e-monitoring system for evidence. Sjoe, all still running right across the network, except for one machine in the house that seems to have had a heart-attack and restarted itself with a pathetic beep.
They call this a "Black South-Easter". Tumbling dark clouds sent spattering down over the mountains as the wind roars. It doesn't usually rain on this wind, but last night it hailed. And rained huge drops that sounded like bucket-loads as each fell.
Today Cape Town picked up the damage and counted the cost. One girl killed near here in a "trailer park" where huge trees came crashing down on caravans and houses. Various bits of vegetation blown hither and yon. Signs on the highway face-down. The neighbour's satellite dish examining the wall... Yet strangely enough some things untouched, like the cloth advertising banner covering the side of a building near one of our access points that usually blows away at the least provocation!
And it seems that last night's storm officially classified as a hurricane. Winds of 120km/hr are right up there on the international scale of such things.
Yup, we survived it. Tonight the storm has blown itself out, the wind died down, and we can open the windows once more. Take a deep breath until the next bout with the South Easter....
I had to dash in to town this afternoon to stock up on the usual combo of bread / milk / other stuff - and made a very quick detour into Woolworths.
You see, I need to one of these fine days buy a bra. Or two. Or more.
Beyond the usual feminine fear of trying to find one that fits everywhere equally, there are all sorts of other issues around the purchase of a small piece of stretchy fabric & lace, straps and clips.
Do you go for padded or plain? Underwire or not? What colour? What effect - plunge or perk or t-shirt? Sensible cotton or satin and lace?
So it was that I did a running trawl of the underwear aisle in the hope of gathering some idea of what is required.
And then hit the brakes. Big-time. When I looked at the price tags...
It's no wonder most of South Africa walks around in bras that are falling apart. The cheapest one Woolies stocks is R100! You could of course trawl Mr Price and find a R40 model - if you're lucky it won't be day-glo pink with black lace trim (some of us are way too old for such foolery). You may also find one that fits around, under and over the appropriate parts for that price. But the last time I checked, they simply didn't have what I needed in my size.
It would be lovely if somehow, someone could find a way to make a decent, well-fitting bra at an affordable price (without tinsel, baubles or rhinestones) that the General Public (ie Me) could buy and wear with pride. And look good in too, please.
.JPG)
It's been a bit of a day. Two, actually. Looking at these, you can't accuse me of NOT working for a living!
We've been running cable through manholes and underground pipes, but these hands could be at the end of any day - and that's the clean version. Cut up, bruised, veins showing clearly thanks to hours of slog and heavy lifting over many months, nails in a state - yup, that's my hands.
I used to have hands like these:
Those were my office-job hands, nails done up, skin soft, the works.
Not anymore. Now these hands are made for working - and they're earning their keep. Washing dishes is a bit of a pain though :-)
While watching CSI Miami recently, as the camera panned past mansion after mansion on the edge of the water, my first thought was "Global warming's going to be a bitch there!".
We've all seen the disaster movies, where some place on earth (usually the USA) bears the brunt of Mother Nature's wrath - getting flooded, or frozen, or hit by things from outer space, or blown away by a big storm, or blown up by a big volcano. And until now it's all just been special effects and wishful (on the part of some!) thinking.
But the fact is things are changing. Up north, Russia and Germany saw their first snowfalls of the season this week. Down here the South Easter has arrived extra-early, with occasional breaks for winter. Storms and tsunamis no longer make major news - they happen so regularly it's merely another country battling to find survivors and rebuild. The weather is no longer predictable. The seasons are no longer regular and steady. From Africa to the frozen (defrosting?) North change is being felt by the communities most in tune with the land. Us city folk? Not so much.. not yet....
In fact it's very easy for us city folk to simply ignore the warning signs of a world shifting. Our food is still flown in from far and wide - there doesn't seem to be a noticeable drop in what we can get when. In our climate-controlled offices, we don't notice that the seasons are any different this year - we don't even know whether it's hot or cold out, sometimes not even if it's day or night. What little we see of the actual weather doesn't give much indication that anything's wrong.
Yet it is. In South Africa, the air quality is a lot worse than we thought. Here in Cape Town, the wind blows our city pollution away (where?)... until a dead-calm day reveals how terrible that layer of smog, smoke and junk in our air actually is. With thousands of cars heading into the city each day, our city-wide "green debt" is huge. Industry may have slowed during tough economic times, but we're still pumping out the crap in scary amounts.
And yes, it's contributing to the shift in the world's climate. Collectively. And individually. None of us stop to think that hopping into the car to drive 500m to the shops is doing damage (to us and the environment). None of us stop to think about that half-cup of perfectly-good water we threw away instead of putting it down our throats or onto a plant. None of us stop to think that our bad habits now are going to make life very, very difficult in years to come.
So what do we do? CAN we do anything or is this simply a cycle of warming up / cooling down that the earth is going through - that we are too "young" as a human race to remember? Is the change in our climate going to wipe us out or whittle us down to survival of the fittest? It's all unknowns, really. We don't know if we're part of a big cycle of death and renewal that the planet needs to survive, or if we're just killing ourselves and the planet thoroughly and permanently through our stupidity.
But this much we do know. Things are changing. Things have changed. We have to adapt - or die. We need to become more conscious about how we live, how we work, the choices we make. Whether it's starting up your back-yard veggie garden (and adding to the world's greenery, your general health and bringing back a bit of balance), whether it's walking or biking instead of driving (everywhere's within walking distance if you have the time.. ;-) ), whether it's investing in a green technology like solar or wind power (stuff Eskom's price-hike plans!), or any myriad of other small and big steps - we need to be stepping. All of us. Before it's too late to bring ourselves back from the brink of disaster.
Subscribe to:
Comment Feed (RSS)
Posts
